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bringmemyrocks · 3 months

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Are you a convert to Judaism? When did you get interested and how long was the process? Im thinking about it

Hi anon, yes I'm a convert. I was orthodox for many years before going the more liberal/non-denominational route.

"How long is the process" really depends on:

Your denomination: Reform and some conservative or non-denom can have you done within a year. Orthodox may take longer unless you're getting married and/or have a lot of money.

It took extra long for me because I'm pig-headed and tried to be frum when I shouldn't have. The frum world didn't deserve me *hair flip*, and doesn't deserve any of the amazing queer people who still try to make it their home.

Don't be orthodox, anon.

Anon, if you want to learn about Judaism, read books, learn Torah, join a community, please don't get all or even half your information from Tumblr (and that includes me). Facebook groups can be a bit better but still not great.

This sounds like a TV pharmaceutical ad ("Ask God if Judaism is right for you!") but do try praying. Learn Jewish prayers in English, pray psalms in English or Hebrew or whatever language you want. Talk to God like you'd talk to someone you trust. (Some Jews call this "hitbodedut" because they think a hasidic rabbi invented it, but I don't think anyone can claim to have invented the practice of speaking to God outdoors.)

See if this tradition speaks to you. The Bible is free, and you can access a ton of English-language commentaries and prayer books (siddurim) for free on the website Sefaria.org. opensiddur is an online source with free prayer books, some have transliteration. Lots of synagogues stream their services to youtube. Judaism is not a closed tradition in any meaningful sense--you can visit, learn, eat all you want. Very few things in Judaism are truly reserved only for Jews, and you won't do them accidentally.

I don't have many book recs because most books people give orthodox conversion candidates are not worth the time you spend reading them. Some liberal Jews like "choosing a Jewish life" by Anita Diamant but I haven't read it myself.

The Book of Legends pulls the narratives/stories from the Talmud and puts them into an anthology, but the book is formatted terribly and it's not in the public domain yet, so nobody has fixed that. A lot of those stories made it into Nathan Ausubel's Bible Stories section in A Treasury of Jewish Folklore, which is a bit more accessible.

Anyone is welcome to comment book recs on this post for anon and I'll add them.

I can recommend you more books or resources if I know more about your theological background and/or current interests in religion.

Anyway.

Here's a copy-paste of my journey to Judaism that I wrote in August 2023. Entitled "Why Stay Jewish?" as a play on "Why Be Jewish?" It does not touch on the current genocide being perpetrated by Israel in the name of Judaism, but in case someone who doesn't follow me comes across this post:

Free Palestine from the River to the Sea. Zionists f off.

Everything below this line was written in August 2023:

Why Stay Jewish?

Aka “a religious Jew who still hasn’t read Heschel tries to assemble a coherent testimony for Judaism”

A few days ago, a friend asked me what drew me to Judaism. (Background: I decided to be Jewish almost 10 years ago, gave it up for a bit after burning out in orthodoxy, and ended up coming back a few years ago.) The TL;DR is that I’ve always been fascinated by religion, and my conversion was more driven by religious faith than by anything else.

This is a bit disjointed, but I don’t want to spend weeks editing a Tumblr post, so just going to post it as-is. I talk a decent amount about the theology of orthodox Judaism as well as that of various Christian sects, but I’ve tried to make this readable for anyone with a different theological background.

In 2015, progressive Christian leaders Nadia Bolz-Weber and Rachel Held Evans (RIP) started the “Why Christian” conference. The conference, which had its last meeting in 2019 shortly before Evans passed away, sought to answer the question “why be Christian in the twenty-first century?” Christian theologians such as Peter Rollins, Gustavo Gutierrez, and James Cone have all addressed this question when dealing with issues of race, class, and other axes of oppression. Evans and Bolz-Weber held “why Christian” conferences to discuss these questions, inviting both Christian leaders and lay people to talk about the role of Christianity in their own lives and in the world.

While my friend asked me “why did you become Jewish,” I feel (like Bolz-Weber and so many others) that the more pertinent question for me is “why do you stay Jewish?” Because if you’ve followed me or known me personally for any length of time, you know that I wrestle a lot with Judaism, and not in the cute “my lesbian rabbi makes jokes about fighting G-d in a Denny’s parking lot” way, and have done for the past decade. (No hate towards those who experience their religion this way; I imagine that’s a much easier path than the one I took.)

The short version is that I am a theist, someone who believes in God and revolves my life around this belief, and that I believe Judaism is the truest way to connect with God. I do not believe in intermediaries between people and God, not priests, rabbis, or any person.

My religious journey started off with me as a young Roman Catholic who chafed against the idea of priests as gatekeepers between people and God. Eventually my anti-intermediary philosophy applied to saints, Jesus, or any human institutions. Some people on here will say “Judaism isn’t Christianity minus Jesus!” but for me that was definitely part of the progression, stripping away useless layers that clung to my religious faith. I don’t think my conception of God himself has changed much since I was a child, and there’s good and bad in that. I wonder how many Christians have a similar concept of God that I did, loosely modalist with very little focus on the incarnation, that Jesus was always secondary and that the New Testament was interesting but not a theological guide except for its reinforcement of Old Testament concepts (Matthew 25 in particular comes to mind). Atonement theories were confusing and none really made sense. I was always the “odd Christian out” for preferring Matthew’s ethics-focused Gospel to John’s word-become-flesh.

When I learned that much of Jesus’ teachings came from the Torah, I decided to study those texts instead. The Jewish view of God (is there such a thing?) resonated with me far more. God as omnipotent and all-knowing creator, one who loves but whose love can be incomprehensible to the point of terror–I experienced the world and my religion as overwhelming at regular intervals, so it all made sense to me. I can be a bit more rational now (my rabbi is a philosophical though not political disciple of R. Slifkin), but the idea of God as imperfect in the Harold Kushner sense never sat right with me. Maybe I’d be happier if it did.

An aside: People online often tell Christians that “Judaism isn’t just Christianity without Jesus,” but I have an issue with that statement. There is no Christianity at all without Jesus. Even naturalist Christians who reject the idea that Jesus is literally God, or that God is a personal being rather than a nebulous force, even these Christians center their religion around the life and teachings of Jesus. Even Christians who view Easter only as symbolic are not practicing a “Christianity without Jesus”. They may have a very low christology, but their religion does not “lack Jesus” in any meaningful way. Even liberal Protestant Biblical scholars who agree that Jesus is not foretold as a messiah in the Old Testament still view the text through Jesus–they just filter their Christianity through liberation or womanist theology (both of which are Christian worldviews which believe in Jesus as a teacher and redeemer of some kind). This is not to condemn Christianity at all, conservative, liberal, academic, or otherwise; just to say that anyone who claims that Christianity minus Jesus is a religion or philosophy at all is mistaken.

I sought out Judaism because it was what I had been searching for all along in a religion: largely unencumbered access to God. What with learning Hebrew and realizing the difficult path that converts are put on (often unfairly), the “unencumbered” part became murkier, but still I stuck with it. Not all the rules made sense then, and not all of them do now. I used to be more comfortable davening with a mechitza, but now praying separately from women feels wrong and misogynistic.

My favorite Jewish communities have always been lay-led, using folding chairs rather than pews, and arks made from ikea cabinets, and plastic table bimahs. I’ve never been a fan of purpose-built synagogues. (Liturgically-inclined Christians would describe this as being “low church”.) I’m very no-frills in this way. Unfortunately, there’s a not insubstantial part of the Jewish world that also loves the casual, baggy mismatched clothes of the pop-up minyanim that I used to go to. It took me far too long to grasp this, perhaps out of denial, but the large knit kippot and colorful tichels and guitar music that I loved in the “left-wing” modern orthodox communities I was in are also widely popular among settlers, and have been for longer than I’ve been alive. (That and the music of Shlomo Carlebach, but that’s another post. TW for the all-too-common #metoo stuff.)

A lot of converts say they fell in love with Jewish culture, and that religious belief came later, but for me it was the opposite. Part of this may have been that unlike the vast majority of converts, I came to Judaism alone, without a romantic partner. (The vast, vast majority of converts to Judaism are heterosexual women converting to orthodox Judaism.) To me, God is central and always has been, and that’s one reason I fell into orthodoxy when my sexuality and politics would have otherwise made me more comfortable in a different denomination (thanks, Mordecai Kaplan). The New England frum culture I found myself in at age 19 was totally alien to me, and the misogyny and racism that I witnessed was both antithetical to my life philosophy but also something I was in no position to fight against. There is no single “Jewish culture”, but you wouldn’t know that from davening with the orthodox minyanim where I was. I became Jewish first as a young single man, with a tentative, arm’s length liking for the man-made tongue-and-mustard-eating, upper middle class world I found myself in. I did not love the Jewish world at first, and I still find it difficult to love my fellow Jews uncritically. Racist grandfathers are all too common among people of all backgrounds, and Jews are no exception.

In this century, I don’t believe my love for the Jewish world will ever be uncomplicated. It’s been poisoned by nationalism and chauvinism, some of which has roots in trauma, but most of which instead has much deeper origins in centuries of racism learned in Europe and the USA. And much of the Jewish world has no love for me, either. But still I pray three times daily, often in English and rarely from a siddur except for Monday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings. I wonder if I’m just wired this way. Since Sinai, since birth, since learning that praying was something I could do, perhaps.

I remember speaking to an evangelical pastor many years ago about my relationship with God after I had left orthodoxy and was trying to do church again, seeing it as the next best option. I realized that while I had had little trouble setting up theological discussion places for LGBT people of faith since I was 15, I could not speak of my own religious experiences easily. I told him that God had been my comfort since I was young. That I turned to God in times of strife and also saw God’s beauty in the world (sorry, Karl Barth). God was refuge, redeemer, source of wisdom, sometimes in the world and sometimes not. I had no experiences with Jesus directly, and this pastor never pressed me on my christology. He seemed, as I was at the time, fine with me not knowing which “person” of the Trinity was the source of my theological experiences. I saw God in my experiences, and while I liked reading theology, I never found Aquinas or Tillich particularly interesting. I preferred Buber and Nouwen with their deeply personal writings. I felt there was more soul there. I left out the fact that if I’d discovered that I was halachically Jewish, I would have jumped ship immediately and stopped practicing Christianity.

I don’t have many points that I could point to as a “testimony”, a particular life event that convinced me that God was real, or that a particular stream of Judaism was my lifesource. In his Varieties of Religious Experience, William James describes “peak experiences” as intensely religious experiences that someone can have. My journey has had few of these, preferring to take a more slow, scenic path. Not every journey of the mind and heart has moments of blinding light or burning bushes. But I’ll try and pick out a few, in loosely chronological order. Not all of these are directly Jewish, but I’m including them because they help frame my “spiritual autobiography”.

----------------

The first is a recurring dream I had between 2015 and 2019. It drew on the story of Thecla, an early follower of Paul the apostle. When she was led into the arena to be killed by lions, she baptised herself first so she could be baptised before her death. I had a similar dream that repeated itself every few months, minus the lions, in which I immersed myself in water while those around me refused to baptise me. I don’t believe in clairvoyance, but I do think of them as the brain’s way of communicating with itself. In this context, I had been prohibited from joining any religious community, and was willing to do almost anything to achieve that.

Another experience I had was in a class on Catholic mysticism. (Most of my study of academic theology has been in Christian environments, largely because Christians are more amenable to teaching in English.) I experienced something not-quite akin to psychosis, in which images and sounds from my old Jewish life flooded my brain. I spent the entire two-hour lecture drawing the pictures of the shul that came to mind (the Ikea-branded ark, the men in assorted hats and yarmulkes, the mechitza a cheap cream-colored curtain hung on a washing line, etc.) At the time, it felt like part of me was dying. Perhaps it was, perhaps it still is–I’m no longer orthodox, and in good conscience can’t be again.

My experience with religion has always had large positives and large negatives. When I finally did my mikveh a few years ago, I told one of my (only remaining) frum friends, and his immediate response was “that’s lovely news, especially after [proceeds to infodump all the depressing queer frum news that I’m not privvy to living outside NYC.]”

I’ve talked about this next one before, but I got to attend a mostly-secular Jewish retreat last year, and went with the bf. The one genuinely non-secular part of it was an optional kabbalat shabbat service led by a former-haredi now non-denom rabbi and a cantor from a similar background. They didn’t have siddurim or anything, so we all just sang from memory. I got to sit next to my bf with my arm around him–the very concept of singing yedid nefesh while being openly, visibly gay was insane to me, but I got to do both there. I’m always glad that my partner (or his being secular) pushed me to explore outside of orthodoxy, because it’s been a much better experience. Sometimes the familiar isn’t always what’s safe. (A more innocent example of this would be my cat, who used to be a street kitty. He still prefers sleeping on plastic bags or pizza boxes to sleeping in a real bed. In the same way, I felt more comfortable in environments that placed heavy restrictions on gender and sexual identity, even if they didn’t kick you out the door.)

People have described me as “passionate” and “obsessive” about my faith, and I don’t think this is a false characterization. Someone who felt less passionately that God alone should be worshiped could have been happy in a UCC or Unitarian church, but such was not true for me. I won’t weigh in directly re: Christianity being avodah zara (idol worship) except to say that much of orthodox Judaism doesn’t see it that way. (Tovia Singer does not speak for most orthodox Jews in most matters, and I think that if people want to worship literal or figurative idols, we should leave them alone and not harass them in the street.) Rather, I would compare Christianity to any sect of a religion which demands its followers approach God through a human intermediary (make of this what you will). Rebbe Nachman has some interesting ideas, but I don’t chant mantras with his name as some of his followers do. I finally tried learning kabbalah last year, and I found it surprisingly dry. Very intricate, but why split God into a tree of life when you have God already? Perhaps I’m too single-minded. If I had more faith in myself, I would say I'm Maimonidean.

It’s interesting being a scholar of religion while simultaneously being religious. Last spring I had to do a systematic theology course to finish my Master of Divinity degree, and I failed to articulate my personal theology very well, and I didn’t do very well in the class. I had a passion for God and for what’s right and wrong in the world, but even after decades of study, I still couldn’t make my theology make sense to my liberal protestant professors. (And I don’t think I’m doing the best job now.) If I had known more Maimonides at the time, I would have invoked him rather than trying to explain Judaism on my own, convoluted, contradictory terms.

I was always more theologically comfortable around evangelicals because they didn’t mind me talking about God and not circling back to Jesus and his lessons. There’s an almost Marcionist impulse among some liberal Protestants to insist that every book in the Old Testament be either discarded (side-eyes the Revised Common Lectionary), or viewed solely through the lens of Jesus.

Brian Zahnd insists on this reading in his Sinners in the Hand of a Loving God, a condemnation of what he sees as “fire and brimstone Christianity.” To his credit, Zahnd argues against literalism in the New Testament just as much as he insists the “Jesus lens” be applied to the Old Testament. This isn’t to condemn Zahnd or his theology–the man has theological chops, something that can’t be said for much of the often-fundamentalist neo-Anabaptist world (David Bercot et al.) I just don’t personally find Zahnd’s worldview convincing with the weight I give the Old Testament.

For so much of my life, Judaism was orthodoxy. It’s hard to construct a systematic theology outside of that, especially when I find myself frustrated with Buber and Rosensweig and their insistence on mischaracterizing Christianity in treatises in order to give Judaism an identity. A Jew who wants to read about Judaism without passive aggressive lashon hara about Christianity often ends up reading orthodox work. Ironically, I know now that in modern orthodox Jewish works, this lack of antagonism is largely because of R. Soloveitchik’s strong aversion to interfaith dialogue, especially with Christians, as expressed in his Vatican II-era essay Confrontation. So while I saw orthodoxy as less opposed to other religions, it was in fact the opposite–there was so much opposition, they barely even acknowledged that the Reform movement existed after 19th century Berlin. Maybe this is a sign to try reading Heschel again. He, Kaplan, and Judith Butler can have a race to the bottom on most incomprehensible philosophy, but people tell me I’ll like his ideas.

One thing my rabbi has taught me (same former haredi rabbi as mentioned above) is that ritual and religiosity don’t have to go hand in hand. I can decide not to bench after meals if it makes me happier and still pray as often as I want. The phrase “religious Jew” often obscures the many non-orthodox Jews that exist. I can be fulfilled without scrubbing my oven with a toothbrush every March. God is everywhere, so relax, I guess.

We’ll see.

Added today, February 5 2024:

A friend later pointed out that I talk a lot about God and not a lot about Torah in this post. I'll reflect on that again sometime and see if I can come up with something. I forgot that I tried to psychoanalyze my dreams to try and construct a testimony last year. That's funny.

I've been reading a lot of Elmer Berger, and while his books aren't systematic theology, they describe a liberal religious Judaism that exists apart from Zionism. Highly recommend reading him because any Jew or Jew-curious individual should. Most of his books are free on the Internet Archive.

Oh boy anon, bet you didn't expect something that long-winded, huh? I think we almost hit 4000 words there.

Feel free to ping me with more questions.

#jewish convert #conversion to judaism #judaism #long post #me and religion #i #anon #ask #asks

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antimonyandthyme · 2 years

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when i sent my previous ask i didn't expect bodyswap threesome idea😵‍💫 hot

did they tell mick? did seb (in charles body) kissed mick first? did mick kissed charles (in seb's body) bc he thought it was seb??

Oh god anon this is just. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine Mick shooting his shot with Seb thinking it was Seb and then having Seb stumble back because that was Charles? Oh my gaude. Can you imagine the misunderstandings?

Can you imagine Mick in tears? Fumbling away going, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, running away to the sound of his own heart breaking, breath coming out in short bursts, his chest feels like it might just tear itself apart--

Can you imagine Seb (but in Charles' body) finding him in that state? First he's livid, so fucking angry, who the fuck caused Mick his tears? Who does he have to hunt down? And Mick doesn't usually confide in Charles, but this Charles is sympathetic and familiar, in a way that Seb hasn't been, and it comes spilling out of him and--

Oh god, Seb despairs. How will they fix this? How do they go about repairing this without letting Mick in on a secret that basically sounds like both Seb and Charles have lost their minds? Body swapped, really? And there's the added thing that he's just discovered Mick is fucking in love with him? What is he, what is he supposed to do with that?

And then you have Charles in Seb's body wringing his hands and going what the fuck, what the fuck, so it's true then? Mick's in love with Seb? Everyone's seen them together. Hearts in their eyes as they gaze upon each other like loves long lost. How am I supposed to compete with that?

All I can say anon, is that even with a threesome, we're unlikely to even get close to resolving half of the above. Lemme mull over it and see if I can write something of coherence. ;)

#athy texts #body swap au #sebchal #smick #fanfic #rpf #body swap au anons are the gift that keeps on giving

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alittlefrenchtree · 9 months

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I may be an anomaly in that barbie didn't really do it for me. As a person who has read a lot of books about women's rights and the experiences of women, it felt a little too on the nose for me BUT I've enjoyed talking to others about it and have since realized many people probably do need to hear that stuff out loud. And I'm glad it's really touching people.

I will say the costumes and throwbacks to some of the dolls I had a kid was a nice surprise.

I'm hoping you'll write about your viewing experience (likes and confusion) I always enjoy what you have to say.

I don't think you're an anomaly and I pretty much agree with what you've said.

I didn't even read that much on these topics, but I kind of feel the same (for various reasons). Again, not saying it does not exist, just that I've experienced life very differently than many women, so I also learn by listening to them. And I kind of had the same feeling as you, by watching and listening to the 4 teenagers who were at the screening and seem to be enjoying themselves very much. And if it's good for them, the movie is worth existing already.

The costumes, decors and throwbacks were pretty to watch (I wasn't really into Barbies as a kid so none of it was really relatable to me) but I can recognize a well built universe for the movie. I regret that it sometimes felt kind of like an #ad for Mattel and selling Barbies (as do many of other franchise movies). Like: https://shopping.mattel.com/fr-fr/collections/barbie-the-movie where did they draw the line between feminism and "womenwashing" ? Seems a bit too low to me.

I'm still not sure about how to write about my viewing experience to be honest. I liked Weird Barbie for example, because it felt like she has the most subtlety in her lines but overall, I think my main problem was with the script itself? I think that by trying to write something intelligent and engaged but with big budget and massive audience targeting constraints they've ended up with a movie lacking of coherences in the storytelling? They kind of lost me from the moment they go back to Barbie Land, I think. I don't know how to express it but I guess my main interrogation is what was a point (beside the one carried by Ken)? Does Barbie Land is supposed to feel fixed at the end of the movie? Or are Barbies the men of the real world ('s movies) and are we supposed to know that bad people have won in Barbie Land? If so, was the point making a movie where the oppressive part of society is still in charge at the end? Where does the want of Stereotypical Barbie to be human come from? and what does it say in the general meaning of the movie?

A few of many questions I could ask myself so yeah very confused I am. I'll probably browse through analysis of the movie to find some answers when I'll have a bit of time to do that but I thought it would be fun to ask around first.

Thank for sending me your message and a bit of your opinion about the movie, dear Nonny. It helped reading some of your thoughts and having to put some of mine in actual words to answer you 🙏💜

#alft asks #barbie spoilers #barbie

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imalifegen89 · 2 years

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The Fracture - A Hardy Boys Fanfiction

In the end, there was a hard lesson to be learned. The Trust, once broken, was one of the hardest things to fix. Even if it was, it would never be the same again.

Hello,

This is my first fanfiction attempt on the famous and much beloved, Hardy Boys series.

First of all, this is a Nancy-Drew-Free zone. Sorry, not sorry.

I'm mostly focused on the brothers and their relationship throughout the story. Unfortunately, I won't be using the other characters such as Callie, Iola, Chet, Biff, Vanessa or any of the others. Original characters will come and go as the story reaches its conclusion. The Hardys' parents and the basic back story (until Iola's death) are kept intact, but after that, I have diverted from canon to headcanon. The brothers are 29 and 30 in this story and have characteristics to portray their adult lives and careers, although their fundamental personalities and quirks remain unchanged.

The story is a sci-fi thriller and is set in the near future. The world-building in this story was inspired by a list of movies and TV series: "Intelligence (TV series -2014), Johnny Mnemonic (Movie 1995) and Electric Dreams (Movie 1984).

Enjoy!

Prologue - Two Years Ago Monday - 10:45

In Transit

“Frank Hardy?”

“Yes?”

“Son, this is Admiral Hawkins of USS Saratoga…”

For the life of him, Frank Hardy could not recall the rest of the conversation he had with his brother’s commanding officer only three hours ago. There were bits and pieces of words and phrases tumbling around in his brain, refusing to fall into coherent thoughts that would refresh the stark terror he had felt listening to the grave voice of the Flag Officer.

Words and phrases such as, wounded in action, critical, transferred to port for urgent medical care, brain surgery…would advise you to visit if at all possible, son.

The clusters of clouds passed at speed as he stared out of the small round window of the jet as it cruised at a sedate 800km/h to get him to a private airfield in Dresden, east Germany. It wasn’t honestly his doing - how he ended up in a private jet flying to Germany. He closed his eyes and sighed, taking a moment to be grateful for Alexis, his beautiful, brilliant wife who had been there with him when he had received the news.

“Frank, give him a bit more workout, he can take it.”

Lexi’s voice drifted over from the hardware room she had just plugged in the supercomputer’s latest overall system update. This was the final tweak before her people finally handed over the entire system and its rights to his people. Frank smiled and added a few more commands with curt gestures of his gloved hand, enjoying the way the computer responded to his complex demands.

“Okay,” Riley Quinn - Ex Army Ranger Gunnery Sergeant turned agent - smirked from her perch on the table outside the holosphere. “I’m not going to comment on what that would sound like without the context. But Lexi, honestly, the things on this funny screen are already so fast it looks like the sphere’s gonna take off to space anytime now,” she said as Lexi walked out of the room to come stand near Frank’s second in command. “You want your man to speed it up more?”

“How else would I know the latest upgrade is working, my dear?”

“You guys are crazy.”

“If by that you mean, brilliant and sexy, You’d be right.”

Frank listened to their banter as the system finished the final test runs and diagnostics on what he had just put it through. He felt another proud grin break over his face as he stared at the final set of statistics that stared placidly back at him from the screen.

“Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that?”

Lexi joined him on the raised platform and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Did you doubt me?”

“Not even for a second.” He dropped a kiss on her head that reached just under his chin.

His mobile ran then, cutting off Riley’s fake coughing and Lexi’s giggles. It was a withheld number, and he answered because calls like that were normal in his line of work.

“Hello?”

“Is this Frank Hardy?”

“Yes”

“Son, this is Admiral Hawkins of USS Saratoga…”

The next thing he knew, Lexi was shaking his shoulder gently while Riley peered at him, her gaze worried.

“Frank, who was it?” Lexi demanded, her brows furrowed in a frown and her voice full of concern.”

Frank looked up and blinked. He still had the phone clenched in his fist. He blinked some more, trying to get the static in his mind cleared to answer her question. He knew he was in shock, in a state of suspended reality, to stay away from facing the facts that was going to terrorize him, hurt him to the core.

“It’s, uh, it’s Joe,” he heard his voice through a haze. He sounded dull to his own ears. “I mean, that was his CO. He, um, he got hurt during a raiding operation–”

“Where is he stationed?” That was Quinn. The ex-soldier in her already knew where this was going.

“Saratoga,” Frank mumbled.

That was apparently all Lexi needed from Frank. She entered a few rapid commands to the system as Frank watched, numb, detached and somehow seated on a chair next to the platform. Within a short moment, she had Joe’s initial medical records, x-rays, blood work and test printed and scanned, along with a full explanation of what it all meant. It never even occurred to him to question the legalities of her searches and the data retrievals.

By the time she was done, Frank was aware enough to see the colour drain on her face as she understood the exact condition his younger brother was in.

“Lexi–”

She looked up and took a deep breath. Frank knew that she would never hide anything from him. She always chose honesty, despite how painful it was sometimes. “It’s bad.”

Frank felt whatever air that was left in his lungs leaving in a rush. He deflated, slumping in on himself. The admiral’s somber words echoed in his mind, creating horrifying images of his brother; hurt, bleeding, unconscious…dying.

And Frank wasn’t there. Frank hadn’t been by his side for seven goddamn years.

Now, his brother might just be lost to him, forever.

A painful sob tore out of him before he could stop it. He bit on his fist savagely and closed his eyes, refusing to let the tears out. If he did, he might not be able to stop it.

There was nothing he could do to stop the shivers that wracked his entire frame as he sat, lost, in that chair though.

“Frank, baby, listen,” her hand on his shoulder was warm and her tone was gentle. “I know you want to get to him as soon as possible, but please, I think you should contact Aaron first.”

It took him a long moment to understand what she was saying. Aaron Burkhardt was a mutual friend. They met him during their time at MIT. He was involved with them in three projects regarding supercomputer processors and software developments. Frank remembered how that veritable genius used to joke with them, saying that electronic brains fascinated him just as much as the real ones.

He was now one of the world's leading innovative neurosurgeons, based in Dresden.

Lexi’s suggestion, however, confused him. What he needed was to get to his brother right now. “Why?”

“Because Joe’s condition is critical,” Lexi explained patiently. “And based on the injuries mentioned on these records, I think you - your brother - is going to need his help.”

The copies of all the medical reports were there in his briefcase that rested on the seat next to him. He hadn’t looked at any of them yet. Looking at Joe's condition depicted in an emotionless set of numbers, chemicals and harsh medical terms felt wrong somehow, before the chance to actually see him. It was an illogical thing to do, he was well aware, and Frank was nothing but logical and practical to the core.

Except, it all changed drastically when it came to the matters of his brother.

He still recalled the first serious argument they’ve ever had, all those years ago, when Joe had announced his intentions for the first time.

“What do you mean you aren’t going to college?” Frank repeated, bewildered, thinking he had heard it wrong.

“I’m enlisting,” Joe said, stretching his tall frame across Frank’s bed.

Things had been hard, messed up for some time now. After eight months since Iola’s sudden, cruel and needless death, things were finally starting to fall back into their usual rhythm. They had just gotten back from their first case after the break they took from everything, only yesterday. It had been a resounding success too, and an entire ring of cyber criminals were now cooling their heels in a county prison in France. Not bad for two private detectives returning to their game after months of hiatus. Joe had been happy, and Frank had seen the pale, sickly complexion of his brother's face acquiring a healthy tan during the time they spent chasing those hackers. He had seen the haunted look in dull, blue eyes getting replaced by a gleam that didn't bode well for law breakers. He had finally seen his brother getting better.

Or so he had assumed.

What he was hearing now, told him that his assumptions should have been exactly the opposite.

“Have you lost your mind? Tell me this is a joke!” His question and the demand came out louder and sharper than he intended.

“It's really not,” Joe’s reply was quiet as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling, avoiding Frank’s incredulous expression. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and my application’s already been accepted.”

Joe’s admission did nothing to calm the anger that started to boil in Frank. He rarely let his emotions get the best of him like that. But this was Joe - his brother, his best friend - who could effortlessly make Frank’s carefully crafted logical mindset fly out of the window. And now, he was telling Frank that he was just…abandoning him like it was nothing.

“You already-” Frank had to cut himself off and unclench his teeth so he could speak properly. “Joe, what the hell? That’s not the plan,” he shook his head, still wondering whether this was a sick joke his brother was playing, despite his denial. “The plan was to go to college, and then Uni, to get our degrees in criminology and–”

“Frank,” it was Joe’s turn to cut him off. He sounded so calm and in control. It was as if they had switched personalities. The thought made him want to laugh hysterically. “Brother, that’s always been your plan, not mine. I'm sorry you thought I was just going to follow you along–”

This was crazy. Why was he only hearing this now? “Joe I don't get it,” he said, the project he was working on forgotten as he had his chair turned towards his bed fully to face his brother. “How come you never spoke about this before?”

“It never came up.”

Frank took a few moments to breathe slowly and study his brother. Joe was still sprawled on his bed and avoiding eye contact. There was a certain weariness about him and that look of defeat, that sense of infinite grief was back, wrapped around his brother like a heavy cloak.

“Is this about Iola?” Frank asked softly, carefully. There were still a lot of landmines in that conversation realm that Frank did not want to trip, further upsetting his brother. As it happened, his good intentions were not enough to keep him from doing exactly that.

“What?” Joe was startled enough to turn fully towards Frank, finally looking at him. “No.”

The instant denial sounded genuine enough. He would have accepted Joe’s word for what it was at any other time. But, since Iola’s death, there was a state of discord between them. That made him badly miscalculate his response.

“Are you sure?” Frank asked, his skepticism evident in his tone. “Or is this you using military service, of all things, as a way to run away from all the memories?” He saw the way Joe flinched at hearing that, the way his eyes flashed, hurt. But he couldn’t stop. “That you aren’t using that as a distraction from what happened? Is this your choice to find a way to feel better?”

Joe stared at him for a long moment, and except for that initial flash of hurt, there were no other emotions in his blank expression. It was too late for Frank to take back what came out of his mouth. He kind of didn’t want to, because, damn it, he was hurt too.

“No, Frank,” When he finally broke the silence, his voice was still quiet. But there was a hard edge to his tone that he had never aimed at Frank before. “I’m not joining the navy, signing up to put my life on the line, along with the lives of people around me, as my feel-good form of therapy, so fuck you.”

Fair. Frank knew he deserved that. “Joe,” he said, shaking his head. “No. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant–”

“Whatever,” Joe said, getting up from his bed, clearly done talking about it. “How you feel about my choice is not going to change my mind. It’s done. Just thought you might wanna know.”

Admittedly, Frank had handled that wrong. He had known that the moment Joe had left his room without saying anything further. It had taken some time, but Frank had spoken to Joe after that a few times, and had managed to apologize in earnest. Joe in turn, had revealed that he hadn’t wanted to make him upset by telling him his plans, which had happened anyway.

They never truly let any grudges grow between them, not for long. Sure, they fought and argued, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out, forgive each other and move on.

They were brothers and they trusted each other. That always came first.

Frank went to college as he planned. He threw himself at any and all academic pursuits he could to fill the time. His bid for MIT was accepted easily where he spent the next four years earning his masters in the field that fascinated him the most: software engineering and supercomputing. After that, his projects and thesis regarding the practical uses of his fields with regards to global surveillance and data gathering caught the interest of a certain agency that specialised in exactly that.

At the age of 28, Frank was now one of the youngest agents in the Central Intelligence Agency who had the command and control of his own branch, Global Signal Intelligence. Which was a fancy way of saying he had permission to run electronic eyes and ears all over the world. Even better, he had the chance to bring his own precious tool he had helped to create for the job.

He even met the love of his love, Alexis Wayland during that time. She got a job at Hewlett Packard Enterprise soon after the concept of ‘Spearhead’ turned into reality. The programme was rechristened as HPE Cray XX351a/Spearhead by their sponsors at the final stage before it was procured by Frank’s current employer.

While Frank found his way into the spying business, Joe went on to the service as he said he would, taking to the disciplined life of a sailor like a duck to water. Years went by as he finished his training specialising as an Engineer’s mate, three tours in three ships followed by a bid at the Officer Candidate Training School and then the rigorous requirements and training of BUD/S.

This was his brother’s seventh year in the navy, last two as a Lieutenant of one of their finest special operators, a SEAL.

But, what happened to him only forty eight hours ago might just be the end of all he worked so hard to achieve during all those years. He might lose his life.

Which was why Frank was on his way to Aaron Burkhardt. Lexi had made a quick call and the surgeon had promised to meet him at the airport. He would take a look at Joe’s records and they would make their visit to the hospital together. Frank didn’t know what he had done to deserve friends like that, the ones who would drop everything in their lives to come to his and his brother’s aid. He is immensely grateful nevertheless for the fact that he did.

……..

They were kindly but firmly told that they weren’t allowed to see the patient just yet, his condition was still unstable and was under constant supervision. Frank was sure they got as much information they could, including a copy of Joe’s recent chart, only due to the charming, yet insisting presence of the towering neurosurgeon.

“They just confirmed what I told you when I saw the records, Frank,” Aaron said, dropping heavily onto the seat next to Frank in the waiting area. “He hasn’t woken up yet, not even once. And the swelling shows no sign of going down. It doesn't look good.”

Frank could only nod at his friend's words. He wasn't sure he could get any words out without dissolving into sobs. He kept breathing deeply and evenly, his gaze fixed on a spot on the tiled floor of the waiting area of the intensive care unit.

“They won’t let anyone in to see him. Not yet.”

“Is there anything we can do here, Aaron?” Frank asked after a long while. He couldn’t just wait here to be told that his brother had passed without even having the chance to see him at least. He just couldn’t.

“There is,” Aaron said, slowly, carefully, making Frank turn his gaze towards his friend fully. “But, only if you have the right to make decisions as his power of attorney.”

“I do,” Frank said, curious as to why his friend sounded…reluctant.

“You do?” Aaron repeated, with a raised brow. “Not the navy? I thought the military usually took the lead in cases of injuries on duty.”

“They do,” Frank explained. “But they couldn’t treat him in the cruiser and they couldn’t arrange a transit home in his condition. The moment they transferred him to port, the authority regarding his medical decisions fell to me.”

“That's a good call on his part,” Aaron nodded. “To have it arranged to be you.”

“It was one of my conditions,” Frank admitted with a wry smile. “He agreed just to make me back off,”

“He’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

“It’s mutual,” Frank sighed. “Tell me what my options are here, Aaron.”

Instead of answering, his friend stood up and gathered his jacket. “We are going to find a place to stay the night and then I'm taking you back to Dresden tomorrow first thing in the morning,” he said, confusing Frank.

“Aaron–”

“I know you'd rather be near him,” He cut Frank's protest off gently. “But, right now, you can't help him. What can potentially help him is in my office, and I can't talk about it here.”

The enigmatic man didn’t divulge anything further than that cryptic comment no matter how much Frank nagged and cajoled. As promised, he did find two suites for them at The Fontenay to spend the night in luxury. The next day, they left the hotel after an early breakfast in a rental, and made it to the Gustav University Medical Centre where Aaron Burkhardt led the neurosurgery department.

………..

“I understand that the concept falls somewhere in the ethically grey area,” Aaron sipped his coffee and broke the silence as Frank stared at the screen on his friend’s laptop. “Not because there’s any question whether it works, because it does. Just that it hasn't been approved for the next stage in clinical trials yet.”

Frank blinked, looking up at his friend. He knew that the confidence he displayed wasn’t arrogance. He was only stating a fact. Aaron Burkhardt was a bona fide genius in dual fields and this thing that stared back at him - this concept that went beyond anything he had ever even imagined - had the potential ability to save his brother's life. It boggled his mind that this invention was a branching ripple of the concept of the project that now resided back in the basement of the Central Intelligence Agency.

“Tell me more.” Frank whispered, grabbing onto the silver of hope his friend presented with both his hands.

“The chip uses the same data storing concept of Spearhead,” Aaron explained. “The programming meshes into biosynthetic hardware. Now, this new base can be used without an issue, it went through the final approvals just last year,” he said excitedly, warming up to the subject. “The problem is with bonding organic matter and synthetics with the programming itself. This design of mine lets the chip connect to the brain and even grow to become a part of it. I know it sounds fantastical but it works.”

“Let me see if I got this,” Frank muttered. “You want to implant a microchip in my brother’s brain?”

“Exactly,” the neurosurgeon beamed. “There's still so many hidden abilities of the human brain and chemicals. We learn something new every day just by studying it. It is actually capable of integrating with an external storage device such as this to save itself. Survival instinct at its finest.”

“How is this going to help him survive losing a chuck of his brain?”

It was the first time he put words to the extent of Joe’s injuries. He had to swallow hard to keep back the bile he could feel burning his throat. Now that the words were out, all his fears about Joe came rushing back to the surface, reminding him that he was on the verge of losing his brother for good.

“We can replace the parts he lost due to head trauma with the chip, Frank,” his friend said gently. “It’s organic parts are capable of adapting and expanding its mass. The injury left space inside his skull for it to grow and I can develop it into a point to speed up the process even. Within six months, his brain functions will be restored back to a guaranteed 98.9%. If it worked.”

“If it worked,” Frank repeated numbly. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around what his friend was telling him.

“There’s always the chance that the body would reject the new addition.”

“What else could go wrong here, Aaron?” Frank pressed. His friend was talking about a wholly new level of brain surgery. And, as was the case with any new invention, it was bound to have a plethora of bugs, mistakes and side effects. “Give me all of it.”

“Well, he might experience some memory loss,” Aaron said. “The chip can complete his brain but it can't retrieve lost data. He might have side effects such as headaches or seizures, which would become apparent within the first month of the implant. But those can be corrected with minor surgeries and adjusting the programming of the processors.”

Frank waited for the rest of it. But Aaron kept drinking his coffee, staring at Frank expectantly.

“That's it?”

Frank’s utter incredulity made him smirk. “I’m a genius after all, Frank. You didn't think I would design something faulty, did you?”

Frank couldn't believe that that was all there was to it. It sounded almost too good to be true. At this point, the legalities didn't even make an appearance in his thought process. All he cared about was saving Joe’s life.

“But what's the catch?” he demanded. “Because this all sounds too good to be true.”

“Yes, the catch,” his friend shrugged, still smiling. “There are several. For one, it’s not approved yet, so it's illegal,” he sounded remarkably calm about it, as if it was a negligible concern. “The second, the board of directors of Gustav, HPE and GTN are still negotiating about the property rights, because my design involves all three of them coming together to make it work–”

“GTN?”

“Yeah, they own the biosynthetic base I have to use for the chip,” he explained.

“How long is it going to take for you to make it?”

“Oh, it was already made about five months ago,” Aaron said. “There's three of them in storage, I've been running tests, improving the overall efficiency of it all this time.”

“But you just said–”

“The talks are about the shares and market prices and profits, Frank,” said Aaron. “They know it works. It’s the new revolution of the field of brain surgery. But they are not doctors. They are not concerned about the brilliance of the concept or the number of lives we could save. They are all about the money.”

Frank could understand that. His own project would have had the same issues if it weren’t for the extensive and largely undisclosed budget of his agency.

“So how are we going to make this happen in reality if we did decide to do it?”

“Well, I was thinking you could transfer your brother here. I could take over as his primary care physician and then do a surgery for the implant. Then I’d keep him here on an extended stay to make sure everything works as they should.”

He made it sound so simple. Frank still couldn't even begin to comprehend the process.

“I’m not… I can't even–” he tried to put words to his disbelief and failed.

“It’s overwhelming, I know,” Aaron nodded. “And the biggest catch would be the secrecy. If we go through with it, only you and I can ever know about it,” he admitted. “Not even Joe can know. We can just let it be known that the genius saved the day again because I'm that good,”

“And humble about it too,” Frank muttered, shaking his head.

Aaron chuckled. “I can even make it spin that I did some innovative grey matter grafting,” he shrugged, closing his laptop back. “The chip will be integrated into his brain within the first twelve days and it won't be visible to any scans. So you don't have to worry about it being found. And the other thing is, I’ll be able to keep everything under wraps until such time. That’s about it.”

“What’s it to you?” It was a valid question. His friend’s suggestion could very well end up in costing him his medical license. Or worse, he could end up in prison. Their friendship went way back and Frank trusted him. But he just couldn’t believe that Aaron would gamble his career and life away just to help Frank’s dying brother out.

“Why, Frank,” Aaron said with another proud smile. There was a predatory gleam in his green eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I want the very thing any inventor wants to witness. That’s the moment their invention comes to life before their eyes.”

Now that Frank could believe. That confidence and self satisfaction he could clearly see in his friend's expression was genuine. He had seen it a few times during their shared time back in the university days.

“I know you're going to have to think it through,” Aaron said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them while Frank contemplated the unbelievable offer.

“It's a big decision and it's harder because you're making it for your brother, not yourself. But right now, your brother’s scale is leaning towards death, and this is a shot at life we could give him.”

Put like that, it seemed like the easiest decision he had ever made in his life. Except, did it really give him the right to play God - or let his friend play God - to potentially alter his brother’s life like that? He truly did not know.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly. “But at what cost, Aaron?”

“It’s up to you to decide my friend,” he replied just as quietly. “Because your brother can’t speak for himself right now.”

Wasn’t that the crux of the matter? Joe wasn’t in any position to do anything for himself. He was in a coma, lying on a bed in an intensive care unit with a number of machines hooked up to him to keep him alive.

Frank thought about the entire thing for the rest of the day, lying flat on his back on the bed in his hotel room, staring at a dusty ceiling. No matter how many reasons and justifications he mentally listed in pro and con columns, he couldn’t make up his mind.

The thought of doing nothing and letting his brother succumb to his injuries paralyzed him with terror. He could not imagine living in a world without his other half. Even the slightest contemplation of the idea made his heartbeat pick up the speed in an uneven rhythm. What Aaron gave him was a chance. One last throw of dice. If it worked as advertised, not only would his brother live, but he would be able to continue as before, without any permanent debilitating after effects. If it didn’t, it wasn’t as if they could have made his condition worse. Joe was already teetering at the extreme edge of life anyway.

But, he was equally scared of the ramifications he would have to face down the line if this miracle worked. He wasn’t even bothered about the legality of it. He would gladly take the blame and punishment for it if it meant that Joe got to walk out of this alive at the end of the day. What scared him was what Joe would say or feel if he ever found out. Would he be appalled? Would he demand the implant be taken off? Would it change him in some fundamental way or his personality? Would he be fine with it?

Then again, according to Aaron, this was going to have to be a secret that Frank took with him to his grave if they decided to go ahead. So the chances of Joe finding out about it were almost non-existent.

In the end, none of his reasoning, trepidations or fears didn't matter. The call he received from the General Hospital in Hamburg late that night, made the decision for him.

#hardy boys #frank hardy #joe hardy #Franklin W. Dixon #CaseFiles #Mysteries #Frank & Joe #my writing #Brothers #fanfiction

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nnegan13 · 5 years

Text

Okay, so the Boat Scene (as I am hereby calling it): chock full of symbolism and metaphors and it’s making me yell, quite frankly.

Given that this is a period romance, each interaction between designated or potential love interests should be looked at with a Romantic Lens, which is how I drew these metaphors. I am no expert at script writing or directing or filming or anything involved with TV production, plus it’s really late and my brain isn’t working super well anymore lmao. Forgive me for not being the most coherent I’ve ever been.

I’ve written a transcript of the dialogue as well as actions I find significant to the scene. It can be found here, along with where I use it in this meta. The video of the scene can be found here (ok it’s not working in my drive but I'm leaving it there in hopes that I'll remember to come back to it in the morning). also bc tumblr hates me I've put this all in a doc that has the original formatting I used if you want to, like, not be as confused as the tumblr formatting of this meta will make you lmao.

now to the meta. @viviansternwood thanks for being my excuse to do this lmaooo <3

The scene occurs in four shifts: rowing, rivers, boats, and rowing again.

Shift the first: rowing

Charlotte: It’s a little over an hour until the race Mr. Parker, I’m letting all the competitors know. Sidney: Thank you. What do you think Miss Heywood, do I look ready to you? C: I’m no expert. S: Neither am I, regrettably. I haven’t picked up an oar in years. Sidney picks up the oars. C: I’m sure it will come back to you. S: I wonder. Sidney heads to the boat. Charlotte picks up her own set of oars and walks to the boat as well. She hands him the oars S: Thank you.

The dialogue is innocent enough, but the metaphor can be drawn looking at this line from Sidney:

S: Neither am I, regrettably. I haven’t picked up an oar in years.

In years should immediately draw attention, given that Sidney also hasn’t been in a relationship since his with Eliza, years ago. With this connection, the metaphor that rowing skill is romantic skill is established. The scene reads much differently now:

Charlotte: It’s a little over an hour until the race Mr. Parker, I’m letting all the competitors know. Sidney: Thank you. What do you think Miss Heywood, do I look ready to you? —> Do I look ready for a relationship? I mean, in your opinion? C: I’m no expert. —> I don’t know, I’ve never been in a relationship before, I’m no expert on them. S: Neither am I, regrettably. I haven’t picked up an oar in years. —> I wouldn’t say I’m an expert on romance either, I haven’t been in a relationship in years. Sidney picks up the oars. C: I’m sure it will come back to you. —> *thinking about the fact that his last girlfriend is back* I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you to work it out again. S: I wonder. —> *thinking about everything that’s gone wrong with Charlotte rather than Eliza in any capacity* I doubt it. Sidney heads to the boat. Charlotte picks up her own set of oars and walks to the boat as well. She hands him the oars S: Thank you.

Now for the oars. I’m real big on word definitions so:

Oars are specifically used to propel boats through the water. Sidney takes a set, Charlotte takes a set, they both end up in the boat. Onto shift two.

Shift Two: the river and philosophy

Since the romantic lens is already applied to this scene, we can just look straight at the dialogue without establishing the romantic connection.

Charlotte begins to turn back to the tent. —> Sidney sees her leaving and immediately calls her back. Like literally look at the video I’m gonna attach to the end of this and just scream. As soon as he sees her turn around he launches into this concept like, Sidney, dude, you’re not being subtle. S: A man cannot step into the same river twice, you ever heard that? —> I don’t think I can get back together with Eliza. Do you understand why? Both sets of oars are now placed in the boat. During the last line, Sidney put Charlotte’s oars down as he spoke. —> think of the definition of oars while I hold you in suspense for Shift the Third C: He is not the same man and it is not the same river. —> You are not the same and neither is Eliza. Sidney smiles. —> Damn you understand me better than I understand myself. C: It’s Heraclitus. —> I have to cite my sources that aren’t my personal investments in your romantic life. S: Yes. Of course you’d know that. Well— —> The fact that you know that pleases me to absolutely no end.

Metaphor established: the river is Eliza and Sidney’s relationship, Sidney can’t step back into it because he is a different man.

According to this neat philosophy website, Heraclitus’s original quote is more like

Which apparently means something like this:

Which in the context of our dear Sidney and Charlotte means that over the years, since personalities are not stagnant and people do change, Sidney “stepping into” Eliza would prompt not Sidney and Eliza getting back together, but Sidney turning toward Charlotte instead.

Here’s the mental math bc I’m still a little confused (I’m not a philosopher, clearly):

River = Eliza River also is the same according to Heraclitus Heraclitus also said “not everything is changing, but because some things (ie, Sidney) change, other things come into existence (ie, Sidney and Charlottes relationship)

So, basically, the Heraclitus quote on the surface level is saying that Sidney and Eliza are two different people, so their relationship won’t work anymore, and on a deeper level (ie, fucking looking up the context of the Heraclitus quote for a meta about fictional characters) it’s saying that because Eliza hasn’t changed but Sidney has, Sidney and Charlotte’s relationship sprung into existence rather than Sidney staying the same with Eliza.

If you don’t get the deeper level, it’s cool bc I also don’t really get the deeper level. The surface level works just fine for this conversation lmao.

Shift the Third: boat

Now, the third metaphor drawn is that of boats. Our Romance Lenses are on.

Sidney unlashes the boat. —> It’s already been established Sidney is Looking for Romance through the line “do I look ready to you?” Him unlashing the boat is him establishing that he’s trying to enter a relationship. He himself is unsure of exactly what he’s doing, but the fact that the scene is happening with Charlotte instead of with Eliza is pretty telling. He’s more unsure of what to do that who he’s doing it with. If you can’t tell, I have zero doubts about who Sidney has feelings for and who he doesn’t have feelings for. S: —I need a second person to balance the boat, would you mind? —> *Sidney, knowing that his relationship with Charlotte has been touch and go, realizes that he needs to be clear through all of this and establish that he does want her* I can’t exactly have a relationship by myself, do you want to do this with me? He offers her his hand to help her get into the boat. —> before this he looked away, which is where I got the idea that he realized the undertones/my meta of the situation as it was playing out. Gotta look away to compose yourself before asking the love of your life if she wants to get in a relationship with you, amirite? C: I’m not sure if I — —> Sidney, you confuse the ever-living hell out of me, I don’t even know if I’m the person you want to be with— S: Come on. —> Charlotte, please, I want you. Charlotte, unsure, gets into the boat, grabbing one of Sidney’s hands. His other hand goes to her waist. She rushes a little, and rocks the boat. He does not let go until the boat is steady again. —> The rocking of the boat is tell-tale of Charlotte’s character, she often rushes into situations without thinking them through, similar to how she gets onto the boat in a bit of a rush and it rocks. Sidney doesn’t let go of her waist until the boat steadies. Even with my interpretation of what Sidney said, Charlotte’s uncertainty means Sidney needs to be more explicit. S: Careful. Sit down behind you. —> It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m here for you, it’s not just you here in this thing, I’m gonna be with you the whole time. Sidney pats her hand before letting it go. He sets an oar in place, pushes them off, and starts rowing. —> He gives her a reassuring pat on the hand before letting her go. He lets her know where the best place to sit is, essentially reassuring here that he’s there to help her. The oar’s purpose is to propel the boat, Sidney sets the boat in motion.

Jumping out of that last one to collect my thoughts. Since the boat is a metaphor for their relationship, Sidney is essentially asking Charlotte to enter into a romantic relationship with him (“I need a second person to balance the boat” meaning he can’t be in a relationship by himself). The entire way into the boat, Sidney is there to reassure Charlotte she isn’t going to fall into the water: they grasp hands, he takes a hold of her waist, he waits for the boat to stop rocking, directs her to where she can sit, and then lets go when they both know she’s not going to fall.

Finally to the oars. Oars are meant to propel the boat forward and steer it through the water. Since the boat is the relationship, the oar is a metaphor for the effort put toward propelling the relationship ahead. Sidney first rows, as we can see from 1.06 and other bits of 1.07: he asks Charlotte to come to the ball with him, he stays by her side for the beginning of the party and only leaves when he has to help Tom. I assume once he was done he went to find wherever Charlotte went, and immediately asked her to dance. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else,” “I might wait for you downstairs if you don’t mind” (into 1.07 territory, now) C: you’re not nearly as unfeeling as you pretend “Well, if that is the case, I would ask you to keep it to yourself, I have a reputation to uphold.” (the fact that Charlotte is the only one to know he’s a big softie,,,,,,the implications of it all, also he’s establishing a teasing relationship with her here), plus everyone’s favorite from the end of the episode that I’m including just because it’s my meta and I want to lmao “I believe I am my best self, my truest self, when I’m with you.”

He’s been doing the metaphorical romantic rowing (and for good reason, Charlotte’s been the one all season to fix their misunderstandings with one another, so he needs to step up lmao), and so he puts in the oar first and rows first.

Shift Four: rowing, again

Now that rowing has been established as a metaphor for the propulsion of their romantic relationship, the undertones of the physicality in this shift come out just as much as the undertones of the dialogue of this shift do.

S: May I ask you something, Miss Heywood? Why is it, that when I finally have a chance at happiness, I cannot accept the fact? —> Literally the girl I was going to marry is back and yet I can’t get myself to date her C: What is it that you cannot accept? —> I want to die low-key over the fact that we’re talking about your ex, but I’m a good person so I’m going to help you talk through this. Also I want to know what you’re thinking. S: I had convinced myself I was destined to remain alone, that I was ill-suited for matrimony. —> I thought I was gonna die alone but now I have trouble believing that? And coincidentally that trouble started up when I met you C: I don’t believe that anybody is truly ill-suited to marriage, not even you. —> It hurts that you think you won’t get married because look at your face. Also I’m taking a jab at you because that’s how our relationship works. Also what the fuck do you think ill-suited means? Marriage isn’t a job that you have to have certain qualities for. Sidney laughs. —> I’m gonna get into the difference between matrimony and marriage below okay? Prepare yourself. Also Sidney has a thing for teasing big time. C: I supposed it’s just a question of compatibility —> Ill-suited doesn’t even mean what you think it means, you’ve got to try at marriage Sidney and just because your ex dumped you and is back now doesn’t mean you automatically have to get back with her. Destiny isn’t real. Marriage is about finding someone you work well with, not fulfilling some fairytale, destiny, fate thing. S: Yes. I supposed you’re right. Now, its your turn, give me your hands. —> I’m in love with you, just a little bit. Now let me teach you the art of metaphorical rowing. They start rowing together. Both watch the progression of the oars to make sure it’s going smoothly. —> Rowing has been established as propulsion of the relationship, Sidney is showing Charlotte that he wants her to row, he wants her to be a participant in their boat of a relationship. S: Roll/row your hands. Good. —> Sidney has seen here that Charlotte’s rowing works with his, he’s telling her that her rowing is working for him and for their boat. Charlotte takes a moment to watch her rowing. —> She’s looking to see what he’s seeing. S: That’s it. Yeah, keep your back straight. —> More reaffirmations that what she’s doing is working for him, that this is what he wants and that she’s doing great. Also an excuse to touch her because they’re both repressed horny on main this is a period romance and all touching automatically charges a scene both for the audience and for the characters. Sidney wants Charlotte to get that this is romantic. Sidney touches her waist, she readjusts herself, he smiles. They’re both smiling wide, Sidney is laughing, Charlotte looks sure of herself for the first time in that scene. Camera cuts wide to show them on the boat together. Sidney lets go and Charlotte rows by herself. Eliza enters the scene and when it cuts back to the boat, they’re both rowing together again. When Sidney looks over when she calls, he’s smiling. Eliza looks unsure of herself. —> got slightly carried away on that last little bit but imagine the stuff about the waist touch down here. Now that Sidney’s reassured her, Charlotte’s uncertainty disappears, she looks sure of herself for the first time in the whole scene because Sidney has given clear indications that he wants to be with Charlotte which is what makes the entire scene with Eliza and Lady Susan later that much more heartbreaking she’s finally been given indication that her feelings are returned, that she’s not foolish for feeling as she is. When Sidney lets go, it’s an indication that the next batch of romantic rowing (beyond the end of the episode) is going to be done by Charlotte because of his declaration at the end of the episode. The camera cuts to Eliza but when it cuts back to the boat, they’re rowing together again, indicating that they’re together in what they’re feeling and that their relationship and feelings are strong. Sidney is fucking smiling when he looks over at Eliza on the shore because he was smiling at Charlotte when Eliza called to him. If their feelings weren’t strong, why would Eliza be looking so worried about the race she only entered because she knew she would win?

Okay I kind of got carried away explaining in that last bullet point but you get the picture. Sidney rows first because he initiates the romantic development of their relationship (as in the development that can be looked at in universe, not just by the audience, as romantic), them rowing together is an affirmation that they’re on the same page (for the moment, soon ruined by the appearance of Eliza and Sidney’s loyalty and politeness to meaningful people in his life), and Charlotte rowing by herself is an indication that in the end, the decision is hers to add to the propulsion of the boat (ie decide whether or not she wants to be with Sidney), because the boat can’t be rowed by a single person.

Now into the discussion of matrimony versus marriage.

The definition of matrimony focuses on the ceremony of being wed, whereas marriage focuses on the partnership and relationship aspect of being wed. Sidney says he didn’t believe he was suited for matrimony, as in the ceremony. He focuses on the formal action because that’s what it’s meant in his life. The one woman he wanted to marry left him for someone with more money, clearly teaching him that marriage is a business transaction, not something romantic. Charlotte uses the word marriage, which emphasizes the actual relationship itself and being with another person, because she’s a romantic. She’s shown time and time again her belief in love throughout the season. Sidney doesn’t think he can participate in the business of matrimony, whereas Charlotte believes he can experience marriage and romance as long as he finds someone he is compatible with. Lads,

Harmony brings us back to balance (“I need a second person to balance the boat”). Together brings us back to the rowing.

Other thoughts/observations outside the shifts

competitors: Stringer and Sidney, Eliza and Charlotte

“Neither am I, regrettably. I haven’t picked up an oar in years.” —> call back to their conversation in 1.06, Charlotte calls him unfeeling, he says his life would’ve been easier if he was unfeeling, the romantic metaphor of the rowing shows that this line also means that Sidney regrets, at this moment for reasons we as the audience don’t know yet Charlotte, wishes he’d had romance in his life between when Eliza left him and now.

“Of course you’d know that.” —> in-conversation kicking himself for underestimating her

The rowing is a test of their compatibility. Idk if I got that in during all of that up there, but it’s late so I don’t feel like checking atm.

He’s so gentle with her throughout the entire scene. He knows being abrasive is just going to get both of them angry, and while that can be productive for their development (try to tell me it’s not, please), it’s not at the moment because it involves pushing away before coming to a better understanding. He wants to skip the pushing part, and also Sidney is just Soft™ deep down, especially with Charlotte when they’re not at odds.

Also the balancing, their entire development throughout the season has been about them balancing their extreme characteristics

In conclusion

The entire boat scene is a metaphor for Sidney asking Charlotte to be with him and Charlotte being unsure because his ex-fiancee is literally here (and he literally was the one to bring her to Sanditon) and Charlotte and Sidney’s relationship has always been a bit rocky. If Eliza hadn’t shown up when she had, I’m sure that boat ride would’ve ended with Charlotte feeling a lot more confident with where she stands with Sidney.

Since Sidney was confident with his feelings the entire time, he feels comfortable enough to make the Heraclitus joke/reference in conversation with Charlotte later, but Eliza hijacks it and turns it from a nice moment between Charlotte and Sidney into a moment of competition, which sours the conversation in a similar way that Stringer and Sidney’s conversation after the boat race is soured when Stringer brings up “the prize he wanted.”

Even though I’m annoyed that Eliza interrupted their boat ride, I think it was necessary so that the conversation later could go as it did (also this meta about that convo is great) and so Stringer and Sidney’s conversation could go ask it did and because it allowed Eliza to think she had “won,” so to speak, and prompt her to talk to Sidney. All three of those interactions influence how Sidney was feeling and ultimately culminated in Sidney going to Charlotte that night and saying “I believe I am my best self, my truest self, when I’m with you.” So while it sucks that it was interrupted, it was ultimately necessary for Sidney to confess and put Charlotte in the position of choosing (ie, rowing by herself) next episode.

And I guess the conclusion to this conclusion is that the Boat Scene was fully of heavy romantic metaphor and symbolism, Sidney is a hundred percent into Charlotte and Charlotte only and he was even when Eliza showed up, he just needed time and a few gentle kicks to the head (Eliza being rude about Charlotte constantly, seeing that Stringer is interested in Charlotte, seeing Charlotte’s uncertainty about his feelings) to shake off the residual feelings for an ex-fiancee that your family won’t let go about you guys being destined to be together again, and Charlotte gets to choose if she wants to be with him next episode. And I’ve got a feeling she’s going to decide she wants to.

#sanditon #charlotte heywood #sidney parker #charlotte x sidney #sidney x charlotte #sanditon meta #this took me so fucking long and it's so late I'm sorry if it makes no sense #I'm coming back to this when I'm coherent and adding to it/fixing it #see you all in like 48 hrs once I've fixed my sleep schedule again

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astro-rain · 3 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter nineteen - “tomorrow”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.8k

synopsis: reader is faced with a very distressing ultimatum and has to deal with the consequences.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

authors note: omg pls listen to “water under the bridge” by adele after reading this it’s fits so well

Muted. She felt muted - but not necessarily in a bad way. Everything in her was dialed down and dulled. Over the last couple days, Y/N had toned down her emotions, feeling less. Call it a coping skill. Call it a stress response. Whatever. It wasn't like she was sad about it. In a way, in was comforting - not having some overwhelming internal angst.

It had been a week since that fight she and Bucky got into. The mature part of her was telling her to find him and talk it out like the adults they were. But here's the thing. Over time, before they even had the fight, the number of therapy sessions they were having was less frequent as his treatment was improving. The sessions were more intermittent now, and there wasn't one scheduled for a while. Until then, she felt no desire to talk to him.

Was she mad? Sad? She wasn't sure. She just avoided thinking of things that caused her a considerable amount of distress. At this particular moment in time, Bucky was one of those things. Ergo, she made a constant effort to ignore all thoughts of him.

Though, she somehow couldn't entirely ignore the ever present lack of... Bucky. She had gotten so used to having him close by, used to having someone to talk to, laugh with. His proximity had become a constant. A comfort. She refused to admit to herself that silence didn't feel like silence anymore; it just felt like the absence of his voice.

She found she needed to keep herself busy.

Bucky handled it a bit differently. He had lots of intense emotions but he didn't mute them, per say. He didn't ignore them. He felt them, he definitely felt them. He just kept them bottled up inside and talked about it to no one. It was a very strange change of routine. Whenever he had some sort of emotional turmoil, he would always go to her - therapy session or not - to vent, rant, ask for advice, or just talk through a stream of consciousness. Now he just had to sit with it.

He spent most of his time alone. He missed her.

"Hey Shuri," Y/N greeted as she entered the princess' lab.

"Hello," Shuri smiled. "Come sit."

This wasn't a routine visit. Shuri mentioned wanting to talk about something else this time. Something important. She was reminded of this when she walked in to find two Doras sitting with Shuri at a lab table.

"So," Shuri started, "The trigger word experiment. We're here to discuss safety and security."

Shit. That awful thing. It had slipped her mind these past couple days.

"Alright. What are we thinkin'?"

"Well, the Doras don't think it would be necessary to have two of them there with you, but if you would feel safer with two, then that's fine as well."

"I think one is fine. I trust your judgment," Y/N nodded to the Doras.

And I'm not afraid of Bucky, she thought but didn't say.

"We also have a special location to run the experiment," one of the Doras, Ayo, added. "Away from people and secluded in the case of an emergency."

"Okay. That sounds good."

"We understand Barnes is now equipped with the vibranium arm, yes?" Shuri asked.

"Yes, he is."

"Then you need to know something for the experiment."

Y/N's brows furrowed, confused. Was she missing something?

"There's sort of a fail safe built into the arm," Shuri began.

Fail safe?

"There are a series of pressure points when, if hit correctly, will disengage the arm. It will just drop to the ground. So if anything were to happen-"

"I'm sorry, what?"

The expression on Shuri's face changed immediately when she heard her partner's tone. Y/N looked bewildered and almost in disbelief.

"It's there as a precaution in case Barnes needs to be put in check."

Suddenly, every emotion she had been "muting" rushed back into her head. Every feeling for Bucky returned, as well as her compulsion to protect him.

"Building that into the arm shows a complete lack of trust."

"You know what HYDRA did. It's unpredictable, and I'm sorry but we just can't be sure."

"We need to be careful with this so it doesn't blow up in our faces," Ayo said.

"I understand having that precaution for this test, I do. But it isn't just this test. Given it was successful and everything worked out, he was supposed to keep the arm. Right?"

"Right."

"So we fix the HYDRA programming and he's free, but leave the 'fail safe' in so after all of this, he still has someone in control of him."

"The arm is a gift," Ayo stated. "He should be happy he has it at all."

"I understand that, and believe me, he is so grateful. But a gift is for someone else to keep and use as their own. How are we supposed to help him and work with him for months, building trust and aiding him in healing to just tarnish all of that with deception?"

"It's what's best for the protection of all."

"Even after the experiment if it's successful?" Y/N cried in disbelief. "I should say when it's successful. Shuri, I've been seeing his progress for months and working with you on his neurobiology data. Can't you tell how much skill has been put into this? It's us. It's going to work."

"Even still."

"I can't stand for that. I would understand if it was just for this test, but after? We haven't come this far just to not trust our own work and Bucky's deprogramming. He deserves to have someone on his side."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's already been done. The arm is already built and being used."

"This is the plan," Ayo declared. "Either you are on board, or you are free to leave Wakanda. We can fly you out as soon as tomorrow morning."

"I can't knowingly be a part of this. It's wrong."

"As I said. Free to leave."

She refused to be a willing participant in perpetuating the loss of Bucky's autonomy. He's been through enough, had enough taken from him. She would not play a single role in taking more away.

"I guess I have to go then," she said, standing from her chair.

She couldn't believe the words coming from her own mouth.

Shuri sighed. "That's very unfortunate, my partner. I'm sorry we couldn't agree on this."

"I am, too. But please. Please consider what this will do to him. It's like saying 'even though we've all been working with you, we don't actually believe that you're not still a weapon.' What is he supposed to think of that?"

"Barnes isn't going to have to think anything about it..."

"...because he isn't going to know," Ayo finished the thought.

"No..."

"It's the way it has to be."

"No it's not."

"Y/N..."

She took a couple steps back, preparing to leave the room. "No, I'm sorry. I can't. He needs to know. I'm going to have to tell him."

"I'd advise against it if you care about your job," called an unfamiliar voice.

Y/N turned to the other Dora, whom she didn't know.

"What?"

"What would your employers think if they knew their doctor had certain... inappropriate relations with a patient? And a very infamous one at that."

She froze, face burning. Her stomach dropped and her breathing stopped dead.

Did they-? Who else-? How did they-? What did they-?

She couldn't form a single coherent thought.

"You are more than free to leave quietly, without any worries" said the Dora, "but if Barnes knows about this, you can be sure that the rest of the world will know about you and your... relations."

It was then when she could feel almost every piece of her world come crashing down. She could feel every test she took, every research project she was a part of, every hour she spent studying for the career that took years to build. The thing she was most proud in this world, the part of herself she most loved. She felt the job she loved and all the things she had learned and accomplished begin to crumble around her.

This career... it was her life. It was her passion. It was all she had. Now she was in immediate danger of losing it. All she could process was fear; she shut down.

Finally, she managed words.

"Okay," she conceded, her defeated voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go... quietly. I'm sorry."

With that, she turned around and took the remaining steps out of the now silent room.

- - -

When she was in the hallway, she felt like she was dying. The guilt was overwhelming. How could she betray him like this? She tried to fight for Bucky to get the truth and now she has to hide it from him and leave him. She has to lie to him.

Y/N was still in shock, completely immersed in her own fear. It felt as if she wasn't in her body. She knew she was moving - walking down the hallway. But her body was just on autopilot; she was gone.

She couldn't tell if she was crying but she could feel a twinging in her eyes and a burning in her nose. She was also hardly breathing so if she was crying, it was nearly silent.

In a faraway echo, she thought she heard her own footsteps. She wasn't sure where they were taking her, but she wasn't sure if she cared.

She walked, and she kept on walking for a long time. She could feel the ache in her feet once she sat down in front of the water. She hadn't planned to go to the waterfall - that waterfall... their waterfall. It just sort of happened. Perhaps it was a long enough distance away to feel safe.

She finally let herself think for a moment.

What the fuck had just happened? Her exact fears had come to be. Somehow, someone saw or figured out her and Bucky. It felt worse than she thought it would. Exposed. Embarrassed. Guilty. Humiliated. Distressed.

It was numbing. So numbing that she stared at the little pool and let the white noise of the waterfall clog her ears until she was able to lose track of time.

She had no idea how long it had been when he approached her.

"Y/N!" Bucky's voice called as he jogged over after catching sight of her. "I've been looking for you! Can we please talk?"

His voice snapped her out of it, but her gaze remained fixed on the water in front of her. She wasn't sure what to do, how to engage with him; she froze.

When she didn't even turn her head, Bucky guessed she was still upset with him. He didn't want to be a bother, but he needed to talk to her. He sat down right next to her.

"Okay..." he started, carefully. "I know things aren't great between us right now, but-"

She turned her head to him and the words died in his throat when he saw her face: bloodshot, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. He forgot whatever he was going to say, cupping both sides of her face.

"Oh my god, what happened!? A-Are you alright?"

The cool metal of his hand on her cheek made her want to scream, reminding her of what she could not tell him. Reminding her of the searing guilt. Trembling hands reached up to touch his arms. And then he saw the quiver in her lip.

"Oh, honey," he cooed, worried. "Hey... Hey, talk to me. Talk to me, what's wrong?"

He was so concerned and so sweet even after they had a huge blowout. If possible, it made her feel even worse. She didn't deserve his kindness anymore. She just stared into him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen.

Bucky had never seen her like this and he was scared. Was it because of him and their fight? He supposed so. What else could it have been?

"I'm so sorry, please don't cry," he caressed the back of her head with one hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said, I was just mad. You were right. I feel awful, I had no idea it upset you this much."

Their fight was the very last thing on her mind. Looking back on it, it seemed like such a trivial thing compared to now. But he thought this was his fault. She wanted to break into a million tiny pieces and let the wind blow her away.

She shook her head. "Bucky, no. It's not that. It's not you."

He looked so confused. She felt so bad.

"Then what... what's wrong?"

"I'm leaving."

Bucky leaned back, perplexed, and his hands slid down to rest on her forearms. "Leaving? You're leaving Wakanda?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, hey- You don't have to leave. We can figure something out. We were too risky, you were right. I understand that now. We don't have to do that anymore. We can make sure that we're always completely in private from here on out."

She shook her head, staring down at the grass below her. "I'm sorry, I can't... I can't do that. I have to leave."

She could barely look him in the face.

"You don't, it's okay," he implored. "I know it worried you, but it really only was Steve. And I know, I know it could have been anyone and I get that. I thought about it, and I get it. We don't ever have to... sleep together... again. We won't be distracted, and-and we'll be careful."

She clenched her eyes shut, trying not to let her burning eyes release more tears. It didn't work.

"Bucky..."

"Baby doll please," his voice cracked while he tipped her chin up to meet her eyes again. "We can just-... we can just go back to the way it was before. In the very beginning. We can- we'll only see each other in sessions, we don't-... No more lake trips or all-nighters or anything just-"

He sharply inhaled, beginning to ramble as his breath became unsteady.

His voice shook just slightly. "You can barely even talk to me if you don't want to- just please don't go..."

She thought a part of her cracked and died at that moment. She sprung forward and held him as tight as she could. Instinctively one of Bucky's arms was around her back and the other cradled the back of her head.

She thought maybe if she held tight enough, she could keep them together and she wouldn't have to leave him there alone. Of course he would be fine, but he would spend the rest of his time feeling like it was his fault that she had gone.

She couldn't let him think this was his fault.

"Buck, I don't wanna leave you. But I have to do what's best for the both of us. You'll be just fine without me. I promise."

He didn't think so.

"I'm putting your treatment and my career in jeopardy if I stay," she continued. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to either of us. I'm sorry if you hate this and I'm sorry if you hate me for doing it."

He mumbled something in the crook of her neck, but she couldn't hear it. She pulled back from the embrace.

"What?"

"I could never hate you."

Despite the fact that she was so internally distraught, despite what happened with Shuri and the Doras, with having to tell Bucky she was going to leave him, with having to watch him beg her to stay, despite the extreme dread and guilt within her, she still looked at him and felt so much love.

She was doing the very thing he feared and all he could do was care for her.

"God, I'm gonna miss you," she breathed before grasping his jaw, and pulling his head to hers.

Bucky tasted salt and he couldn't tell if it was his or her tears mixing into their lips.

As much as he wanted her to stay, he could sense how serious she was about this. He wouldn't be able to convince her to stay even if he tried. And he already did.

He could only soak up as much of her as he could before she left, and be with her until she had to go. He had no idea how much time he had. Wait-

"When are you leaving?" he broke the kiss as soon as the thought arose.

She was silent for a moment when another tear dripped down her face. "Tomorrow."

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @small-death-and-codeine @avengersgirllorianna @cataves @thatbitchsposts @talktomeaboutthestars @surrealpsycho @headheartbellarke @bubbly-moonwarrior @bluemoon-icecream @buckeyecreates @augustbucky @itsthemaree @undiadeestos

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belit0 · 3 years

Text

Madara making his s/o squ1rt + Daddy k1nk.

Request for the anon who asked this a while ago, here you go, more of my brother. I get it, he’s hot, but damn y'all crazy for him.

Writer added daddy k1nk cause she wanted to.

You are sitting in Madara's office, wrapping up some envelopes with documents to surprise him with the gesture. You're trying to be a good girl, you were misbehaving last week and your neck shows the marks of how he made his grip on you, it hurts to sit down and swallow is a difficult task. Helping him through his work while he's in a meeting is a way of proving you are willing to stop being a brat and start behaving.

It really is boring. Seal a paper, put it in its envelope, close it, make sure the Uchiha symbol is neat, repeat. A monotonous little routine that seems to never end. The pile of documents seems to grow as time goes by, and all you want to do is get out of that room.

You love Madara's office, it is one of his favorite places to fuck you, on his desk, on his work. Secretly, you suspect that it gives him special pleasure if he takes you over paperwork that is related to the Senju clan. His big velvet chair is the most comfortable piece of the whole house, padded and soft. The most suitable furniture for your battered thighs.

Wearing a T-shirt of him and only your underwear, you caress the material under your body, feeling the softness and comfort of sitting without experiencing pain. The Uchiha did not used to give you such severe punishments, and for that to be the case, it is because you had been out of place. As when you humiliated him in front of his brother a few days ago, describing a moment of vulnerability that had to be kept private.

The problem was that you came across a peculiar situation, something never before witnessed in your eyes, which awakened your curiosity and generated the need to ask Izuna about your man's past. It was a lazy morning, where both of you were just waking up after an intense night almost without sleep. You went into the bathroom as any person would, without noticing that he was there taking a piss. When you made yourself present, his inspiration was immediately gone, he got frustrated and threw you out in a huff. Without understanding what his problem was, you analyzed what happened, and discovered that you had never shared the bathroom simultaneously. Of course, to brush teeth and take a shower, but not to use the toilet. Did Madara have a trauma with peeing? Izuna would probably know.

After asking his younger brother, who seemed strangely happy when you told him about it and did not stop laughing throughout the story, the older Uchiha began to be harassed by the younger one every time he tried to go to the bathroom. Somehow Izuna was always behind him when he tried to pee, making him angry and forcing him to stop.

Because of the torture your man suffered thanks to your curious mind, the worst punishment ever given in the history of your relationship appeared without warning, making you endure more spankings in one night than you thought you were capable of. But his resentment continued for days, and your perverse attitude did not help the cause.

That's why you had made the decision to behave at least for as long as it took your buttocks to lose the bruises he caused. Being bratty with him is something you are passionate about, but now you only have the option to behave well and obey because technically you owe it to him.

There are still too many documents to be sealed, but you hear the front door opening and closing, and that makes your attention focus on that part of the house. You know your man has arrived, and in a apparently better mood, as you hear him whistling a tune as his footsteps echo down the hall. The first destination he visited was the bedroom, and you smile at the fact that he thought he would find you there, resting from his lesson.

"[Y/N]?"

He asks generally towards the house, hoping to hear your voice from somewhere to find out where you are. But to gloat and annoy him, even a little, you prefer to keep quiet and continue closing letters, completely ignoring his presence.

You feel him calling you several more times, climbing the stairs, going out to the patio, searching in several rooms. Why would he expect you to be in his office? You would have nothing to do there when he is not at home. It is the last place he checks, and when he opens the doors, there is a slight sign of concern in his features.

Of course, you can't help but smirk at this, it's the most you can play with him without provoking more punishment for your body. You watch him with narrowed eyes and without ceasing to work.

"What do you think you are doing? It's not funny."

"Was it a little, wasn't it?"

"Haven't you had enough? Do you really need more?"

"No! Of course not! Look, I'm trying to make up for it, I'm being a good girl for you daddy."

"I don't know, are you?"

Having said that, he enters his office and heads behind his desk, to where you are sitting. You know this means he wants you to sit on his lap, so you get up and let him settle into the seat before you climb onto him.

You try to kiss him, but he stops you.

"Keep working, you're not done."

Obeying, you seal a document, and when you want to take an envelope to put the paper and leave it closed, it is Madara who holds it in his hands in front of your mouth.

"Put the document in and close it with your mouth."

"B-But..."

"Do you want to have Daddy angry?"

"No..."

"Go ahead. No hands."

You insert the paper into the packet, and as the Uchiha indicated, you slide your tongue around the edge of the packaging, from one of his fingers to the other. When you reach the other end, his digit goes into your mouth without warning and smoothly. The task you were performing falls forgotten on the desk.

"Suck it well, show me what a good little girl you are.”

Pleasing your man, you stick your back to his chest, leaning your head over his shoulder while your tongue dances on his finger and fills it with saliva, giving him little sounds of approval. A second one enters your cavity, and you begin to move your head back and forth as if you were working on his cock, feeling his eyes on your lips.

"I think my baby has missed her milk bottle, hasn't she?”

Nodding on his lap, you feel like a hand is moving your underwear, and taking his wet fingers out of your mouth, he directs them towards your pussy, massaging the outside and wetting you completely.

“I'm still very sensitive..."

"Don't worry baby, I don't plan on messing with your tiny clit today. Daddy will teach you how to go to the bathroom.”

With those words, his two fingers are pushed inside you mercilessly, positioning themselves in the shape of a claw and rubbing that thin membrane on the top of your stomach that simply made you curl up and close your thighs over his arm.

"Open your legs or I'll have to spank you again, you bad girl.”

Moaning uncontrollably, with your head tilted back and sliding over his lap, your vagina makes watery noises every time Madara's knuckles hit your outer lips. Your feet are suddenly on his knees, allowing him better access, and with his arms he forces your thighs to stay apart, while his free hand runs to the side your soaked underwear.

"D-D-DAD-DY!"

Spasms run through your body and no coherent thought crosses your mind, you don't even care that your juices are dripping from your cunt and staining the upholstery of your man's chair, as he keeps his legs open along with yours. You're intoxicated in those digits working wonders on that magic point in your body, while the punch of his fist somehow also manages to act as a masturbation for your punished and over-stimulated clit.

You can no longer resist it.

"What's the matter girlie, do you feel like going to the restroom? Come on, do it on my hand, give all your fluids to dad."

With a final scream, a stream of liquid flows from your pussy, smoothly and strongly, hitting Madara's hand and landing on the floor. The Uchiha exerts pressure with his fingers inside you until the liquid stops pouring and your body stops shaking, leaving you exhausted over him and unable to gather strength to care about the mess left in his office.

"Oh no... what a bad girl... what a bad, bad girl... look what you did on the floor... I will have to teach you another lesson..."

"B-B-But-I..."

"But? You said, but? You have some serious behavioral problems. Come here, Daddy will fix you up."

#uchiha madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #madara #madara scenario #madara imagine #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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i'm fucking losing it about that most recent post and i cannot get coherent words out about it because i get too excited about the possibilities and it is extremely hard to type while flapping but !!! oh my god!!!! oh my godd!!!!!!!!!

CW: Opening to what is definitely going to be a severe trauma response in the next piece, brief victim-blaming language

Jake watches the video, and Laken can't read his expression at all. It's grim, maybe - his jaw is set, and his blue eyes don't leave the laptop screen.

Youtube starts with a stupid fucking State Farm car insurance ad, and Jake is quiet and thoughtful before the ad even ends. He didn't argue with Laken, or suggest disbelief. He only texted come to the house and show me while C is at rehearsal, and Laken had hopped on two buses and walked half a mile, but here they are, now, only a little sweaty for their efforts.

Laken hunches over next to him, their hands over their mouth, thick wavy black hair falling over their eyes. They'd re-shaved the sides yesterday and the air moved over the shorn-short spaces as the fan turned overhead.

They don't speak. They just watch Jake watch Tristan Higgs dance. They watch Antoni, Chris's other brother, sit quietly on Jake's other side, his own dark eyes equally fixed on the screen. When the video ends, Jake hits the replay button and watches it again.

And again.

"This video is from eight years ago," He finally says. His voice is a deep rumble, barely a sound human ears can hear. “I mean, the dancing is from eight years ago.”

Laken swallows and nods. "Um, y-yeah. So he would be-"

"Fifteen," Jake finishes for them. "Give or take. If he's as old as I think he is. And this guy seems pretty fucking sure that Tristan Higgs is dead."

"Right." Laken swallows, uncomfortable. "So, Ben-... You remember Ben. He's, um. Been looking stuff up, and... He sent me some links to, like, old news articles, and... Um..."

"What is in the articles?" Where Jake's voice is rough-edged, struggling for control, Antoni's voice is soft, hazy with his accent, sliding over consonants and coasting the vowels. "What is he sending?"

"So, um, like... This double-... Uh, double-murder and stuff. These people that were killed and just, like, their kid survived, Tristan Higgs. Except then he disappears-... just drops off the face of the earth. But no obit or anything.”

Jake and Antoni look at each other, the men sharing an expression that communicates a wealth of information Laken isn't privy to. But the one thing they don't show is any surprise.

"-and... Ben's been messaging the guy that posted the video, and-... They're gonna meet, um, in a couple days. At, you know where La Mode is? The ice cream place where they filmed that bit in that old Vince Shield movie-"

"I know where La Mode is, yeah," Jake says, watching Laken carefully. He hasn't looked at them like this in a long time, since he first met them - calculating and slightly cold, considering the risk they pose to Chris and to everyone else in his house.

"I also am knowing that place," Antoni says with a nod, putting a hand on Jake's arm. Jake is tense - Laken didn't realize it until he suddenly relaxes, consciously, now. "Why is Ben wanting to talk to this man?"

"I, I don't know. He kind of, he's really intense about this stuff. You know, when he found out Chris was, um, was... a pet..." The word is ash on their tongue, gums up around their teeth, makes their stomach flip in disgust. "... He kind of lost his shit once we got Chris calm about it. I think he thought-... Uh, you know, people like Chris, they get targeted, and... so he's been thinking about that.”

“This isn’t his business, Laken,” Jake says, weary, closing his eyes.

“No, I know, but he's got a little brother who's the same age Chris was when-... this video must have been made. Who’s a lot like him. So I think he's... I don't know. Maybe thinking, you know, if it was his brother, he’d want someone to do all this... if-... if someone took his brother away."

"Yeah, I get it." Jake swallows, sitting up slowly, rubbing at his face. He's got a day-old stubble along his jaw, the kind that made Laken grin a little when they saw the rubbed-red, irritated jawline of the guy with black hair who answered the door, Chris's other brother kind of.

The one that Laken met the night Dylan told Ben and them where Chris really came from. Except... not this. Dylan hadn't known this.

"So, we need to get Chris ready-"

"Get me ready for, for, for what? Laken, why, why are you here?"

Laken closes their eyes and lets out a slow, soft sigh. Of course - the one night they needed Chris's rehearsal to run full-length is the one night he comes back early. They turn to look at Chris and give him a slight smile. "Hey, querido, we just, um-... So, there's..."

The video has still been playing in the background, forgotten, and the music kicks into the crescendo where the second gymnast steps up, catching Chris's attention. "What's, what's that? Is, is, is, is is is it-"

He goes silent as Tristan Higgs steps into place, shoots his bright smile towards Akio Nakamura, and does his first set of flips and spins.

The three of them watch Chris watching Tristan Higgs. They watch his backpack slide off his shoulder and thump to the ground. They watch his eyes - the perfect match to the eyes of the boy on the screen - follow Tristan and Akio dancing briefly back to back, his laughter as he drops his head onto Akio's shoulder.

Something in the line of his shoulders tightens. His skin is pale under the freckles, his hair suddenly seems too garishly bright against the rest of him. There are shadows under his eyes Laken has never seen before. He looks younger... and haunted.

They hold their breath until it ends, the two boys hugging and laughing, Tristan bouncing and rocking and flapping ecstatically when the routine went off without a hitch.

The video cycles to the next one, a different set of Nakamura's. Chris blinks and then looks at the three of them, eyes moving from one to the next. "Why... are you watching... that?"

His voice shifts, change, slips into a drip-drop of words, a slowly leaking faucet language that Laken barely understands when compared to his usual mile-a-minute. He stands perfectly still.

Once again, Jake and Antoni aren't surprised.

"Chrisha," Antoni says, gently. Jake's jaw works, maybe fighting for words that don't come. "That is you, we think. You were... are Tristan Higgs."

Chris's eyes move to Antoni. Then back to Jake. "No," He says, simply. "I'm... not."

"Chris?" Laken feels a wash of uncertainty. "Are you okay? We're pretty sure this is you."

Chris stares right through Laken, eyes empty, full of a kind of fog all their love can't break through. "No, I, I'm not. I'm... not him."

Jake is the one to push himself to his feet first, taking Chris gently by the arm to walk him back towards the doorway. "Chris-"

"I'm... not, not him," Chris says, looking up at Jake, up and up and up. "I'm... not, Jake."

Chris, Laken's sunshine boy, their love and light and life, is a dull bit of broken rock, sodden earth after too much rain, the sooty stumps of trees in an empty wildfire-wrecked field.

"I know it's hard," Jake says, folding Chris into his arms, and Laken watches with a twist of something that isn't quite jealousy, but isn't that far off. Chris will always turn to Jake, first. They can't compete with that - they don't want to, even, they just sort of wish they could. "I know, Chris. But Laken's right, this kid... I think that might really be you."

"No," Chris whispers, burying his head into Jake's chest. "No, no, no. I'm... not. I, I make myself, I made Chris, I don't want to, to, to to to-to be anyone else anymore..."

"You're still Chris," Jake murmurs, and holds him close. "You're still my brother. This just tells us maybe a little bit about what happened before I met you, that's all. That's it, Chris. Nothing has to change."

"Everything changed," Chris whispers, pulling slowly back. "Because I, I did it wrong. I, I, I moved, wasn't... I was, was supposed to hide... and, and be so quiet..." His hands move, one finger up to his lips, as though shushing himself. The empty look in his eyes is cracking open to a well of pain that Laken, for all the times they've held him after nightmares and all the meltdowns they've seen... They've never seen it quite like this.

He pulls away from Jake, and slowly picks his backpack up from the floor.

"Chris?" Laken shifts forward, but the look on his face when he glances back at them makes them stop short. "Baby, I-"

"Go... home, Laken," Chris says, and turns away from them. "Tris, Tristan Higgs is, is, is, is dead. He, he, he... he he-... he, k-... killed people, and he’s, he’s, he’s dead.”

He's gone, his feet heavy on the stairs, before Laken can say another word.

Jake and Antoni glance at each other - another immense conversation contained in a single shared look - and then Jake sighs. "Come in, Laken. I'll drive you back to campus. Ant, if you'll-"

"Watch the house and speak to Chrisha. Got it." Antoni gives Laken a soft, sympathetic smile. "These things are not easy," He says, softly. "You cannot pick yourself back up again, simple as that, start a story where you were left off. I will speak with him."

"But, I should-"

"You'll make it worse," Jake says, rough-edged again.

"Harder," Antoni gently corrects. "He will need us, who know what it is they do to our minds, tonight."

"Wh-what do they do?” Laken looks from one of the men to the other. “I, I know memory loss, I get that, and he was clearly-... hurt, so much, but-”

“They take a frightened man-... or, child,” Antoni says, voice gentle as always. “And they teach us that the person we were before was so terrible that the person we are now exists only to suffer.”

“But he’s just a kid, there, in that video,” Laken says, a token protest, voice weak. Antoni’s smile widens, slightly, in its sympathy for them. “There’s no kid on earth who could possibly deserve that. He doesn’t even remember what happened!”

“You do not have to remember a crime to be told you are responsible for it.”

“But-”

Antoni takes their hands in his, looking them right in the eyes. “When you are alone, and frightened, and desperate to survive... you will believe anything that gives you the slightest chance for a way out.”

Laken swallows, hard, thinking of Chris whispering after a nightmare one night, they made me a Romantic pet because I was a slut who wanted it all the time - their sunshine boy, who never ever does, effortlessly believing a lie, repeating back the names they called him, acting unbothered and like he barely noticed his own words.

Laken swallows back a flip of disgust at the idea of a teenager being taught to hate himself that way.

“Wh-what happens if he remembers everything they made him forget?” Laken’s voice is a whisper.

“If we’re lucky,” Jake says gruffly, “He doesn’t remember it all at once. If we’re not-”

A wail shatters their conversation, a low keening cry from upstairs, muffled by distance and closed doors, a sound of wild screaming wordless grief. All three of them flinch as there’s a resounding crash and a slammed door.

“If we not, that happens,” Jake says, and he’s on his feet and up the stairs before Laken can remind him that he’d said he would take them home. They move to stand, but Antoni lays a hand on their arm.

“Jake, first,” He says softly. “It is easy to be overwhelmed, in these moments. Jake first, and then you.”

What they feel now is definitely a little bit jealousy.

And guilt.

Chris’s screaming, his misery and pain, seems to go on forever, twist itself into the walls of the house and burrow in. Antoni leaves to comfort frightened people who stick their heads out of doors and ask what’s going on, people Laken doesn’t know and has never been introduced to. They look at Laken, consider them, and Antoni speaks to them with soft reassurance while Laken feels helpless, and hopeless, and pointless in this house full of hurting people, while their own hurting person finds comfort in his brother, not in them.

They turn back to look at Jake’s laptop, sitting alone and watching a group of gymnasts hugging after getting their scores, laughing.

The title dates it as a year after the dancing video.

By the time this one was filmed, Tristan Higgs was already gone.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #whump #memory loss #memory recovery #tw: trauma recovery #box boy #box boy universe #recovery whump #laken mamani: frankly i want to date them #tristan higgs #jake the shelter guy #antoni sings lullabies

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harlequinmoss · 3 years

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How would you rewrite season 3 so it would be more coherent? I'm not talking about a full on rewrite of the entire episodes, I just mean how to make the plot lines and development flow better or changing them to be satisfying for all the characters.

Okay this is a really good question. I was going to say to make it more centered on FOWL but going back and reading the episode titles, it already kinda is. Like there's not that many episodes that don't tie into the finale in some way. I do have tweaks here and there that would help with plot and character development throughout the season. This ended up being a lot longer than I thought so here's a page break lol

Going in a linear format, Steelbeak should have made himself smart in Double-O-Duck instead of making the ray to make everyone else dumb. He'd be a more competent villain and more in line with his character in the original DWD. Maybe he could have even played a roll in LGD. It also would have avoided both him and Launchpad being mostly comic relief characters. I think there's too many jokes at Launchpad's expense about him being dumb. If he went back to his "normal" level of intelligence at the end, he could have told the family about FOWL without jeprodizing the search for the rest of the season. All they'll know is that FOWL is trying to take down the family and where the secret headquarters is. There's still the search for the leader and why FOWL is doing what they're doing. This makes it so that Huey has more to do and accomplish in what is supposed to be his season.

Next, The Rumble For Ragnorok. I'm just going off of memory here. I don't think that this episode did very much in the way of developing characters. Or at all. It was a forgettable filler episode where Dewey learned a lesson about humility or something and then it didn't come into play ever again. This episode could have been removed entirely to make room for an episode after LGD to give the Mallard-McQuack family more screen time and development. A general plot of this episode could be: Huey is helping Fenton and the other adults search the other realities for Gosalyn's missing grandpa. They end up finding him but he's either dead/a totally different person with different memories that doesn't remember Gosalyn at all. This event causes Gosalyn to give up the search and accept that her family is gone. Dewey has an emotional moment with her aside where he comforts her and relates the situation back to his mom and talks about found family while looking back at Launchpad and Drake. (Not really integrating this into any of my other points but if Della died on the moon in season 2 and the kids knew about this, it would make the interaction more impactful) At the end of the episode, its shown that Gosalyn has her own room, either in the lair or in a house similar to the original DWD, and Drake tucks her in while singing her lullaby.

The Phantom and the Sorceress. Oh God, what a mess. There's way too much wrong with this episode. Soup-Du-Silence had a good idea on how to fix it from Lena's perspective, which you can read about here. As for Gladstone, he could have still lost his powers and come to the mansion for help. But instead of him asking literal children, its Della and Donald (and maybe Fethry is there too) and then its a cousins adventure! Donald revels in Gladstone being unlucky but still wants to help. Gladstone doesn't seem so pathetic and played for comic relief. They track down the Blot together after Lena and her family fight him out of the Saberwing house, or they're about to find him when the Blot's gauntlet breaks and Gladstone magically gets his luck back for seemingly no reason, much to Donald's dismay. It might have to be two different episodes because cutting back and forth between the two plot lines would detract time from each and make the episode harder to follow. Idk but there's so many things they could have done that would have made the episode actually good and coherent

Let's Get Dangerous. It was good but it felt rushed. It needed to be longer. The timeline was hard to follow. Instead of the cheap shot at the end were Heron picks Bradford up in a FOWL helicopter, have the triplets being suspicious of him and figuring it out for themselves. Maybe they're all wary for different reasons and talking about it in a group huddle and Huey connects the dots in a dramatic reveal. They confront Bradford who does an evil villain slow clap congratulating them on figuring it out, but before anything else can happen, he's able to escape.

How Santa Stole Christmas. I don't think we needed this backstory. Instead, give us the opportunity to see bonding between characters. Its Della and Donald's first Christmas back together. Let us see that. Give us an interaction about the sweater. "You still have that sweater?" "Of course, wear it every year." And then they hug or something. That's literally all they had to do. Instead of following a Santa storyline that ends in Scrooge leaving an impoverished child alone in a house with nothing but a lump of coal when he could have given a tiny portion of his wealth to help her, let Scrooge learn the true meaning of Christmas through his family. Or even better yet, let him throw a party, inviting over recurring characters, and have it double as a brain storming session on how to defeat FOWL. Show them coming up with the plan for Webby's birthday party. Give us interactions with characters who haven't been there all season. Penumbra can help. Where has she been? She was building a ship back to the moon before, right? Give a conclusion to that. If she's decided to stay on Earth like it seemed in the end of her episode, all we really need is a short two second clip of her hanging out with the other Moonlanders, having their own form of Christmas or Hanukkah or whatever else.

As for the last few episodes leading up to the finale, I get what they were going for. Give each of the triplets one last centric episode. However, I think that the messages fell short in the Dewey and Louie episodes. I think they should have taken more of a Beaks in the Shell approach where the selected triplet still gets to shine, while also setting up high stakes for the finale. Don't be adding new characters so late in the game, be wrapping up storylines with already established ones. There wasn't really a point in adding Kit or Poe, other than the writers wanting to make reference to as many characters as possible. Same with April May and June.

Now for the finale. My main thing: don't make Webby a clone. It messes too much with all the dynamics in the show and ruins the found family message they've had this entire time. It would have been a lot better if Webby's parents were FOWL agents who had a change of heart after having their child and got killed by Bradford or Heron when trying to leave the organization. That's ample reason for Beakley not wanting Webby to know. I think the finale did a pretty good job of wrapping things up outside of that, honestly. Again, there wasn't really enough time to give all the characters a proper ending, like Gene who just disappeared once he was saved, never to be seen again, but if time was managed better in the episodes leading up to the finale, it would have made it so that more characters could have accomplished what they needed to. And what was with Bradford getting turned into a real buzzard at the end? You really going to just undomesticate him like that? Give him some poetic justice, push him into the void that makes people cease to exist.

That's about all I can think of at the moment. Thanks for the ask! It was fun to go through everything and think about what could have been done better

#ducktales #ducktales season 3 #dt season 3 #ducktales critical #ducktales criticism #dt criticism #dt critical

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years

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I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

#catradora #catradora fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers #askbox fic

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huntective-kyeo · 3 years

Text

❗Warning❗ TYPOS, SPELLING, AND GRAMMAR. And English is not my first language. Kinda angry hehehe

This is my first time to post it here and I hope you like it. Feel free to criticize my writing so I can improve.

So enjoy.

FIRST FANFIC

My Father is Dean Winchester

Dean POV

I sat down on the chair and open the lid of the beer. It's been hectic two weeks. Sam and I hunt a witch in Colorado and it took us a week to find the witch and killed it. That witch got Sam to bruise his ankle, and a concussion but thankfully nothing major injuries that needed stitches and so. Most of all the sonavabitch wore witch almost touch and probably hex my Baby which I did make her pay for it.

All in all, it took us a few days to get back at the bunker and now I'm sitting on the chair, probably wanted to eat some pies and get drunk.

My thoughts interrupt when the door opened and I looked up wonder who that person is. My instinct is to grab my trustful gun and aim it towards that intruder. However instead of getting alert, and hunting instinct it exactly quite opposite to what I feel right now.

Third POV.

A girl took a deep breath and with her shaky hand, she holds the handle and she pauses before she opened the door.

She didn't know what to do or what to say. She felt nervous to face them all. She wants to keep it secret however it keeps harder and harder to hide all the symptoms she felt during the last few months.

with heavy heart and soul, she opened the door and wish that bunker is well as empty as when she leaves it a few hours ago.

She didn't notice that the Impala, her first love park on her usual spot, she didn't notice a man sit on the chair seem like thinking something, she didn't notice her dad.

Dean POV

" y/n? " I blurted out. I didn't notice that my daughter y/n leave the bunker without telling us, or wasn't I?

Y/n my precious daughter, my little sunshine, and the only reason aside from my little brother who keeps me alive. 16 years ago Her mother and I met at the bar and happened to have one night stand. I was drunk to forget us condoms. I didn't realize it until, nine months later, Kylia found me and she shove the newly baby born into arms. I didn't hear her rants about not wanting kids because I was so fallen to my baby girl. I swear y/n is the most beautiful baby girl that I've ever seen. From that fateful night, I swore that I protect and love her no matter what.

With the help of my brother and my family, we did a good job raising a finest and yet mini-me y/n which kinda bit frustrated when she becomes a rebellious teenager and seeking for a new way to hunt.

I know that being a father and hunter ain't hood to raise a child in a world full of darkness but I did try my best to become a father that she deserved and not the father that I used to grow up

I again clear up my throat and by the time that I saw her, I know something is terrible up. Called it father instinct. My stomach began to feel something that I don't know if it's about the food or the worriedness about my daughter.

"Where have you been, I told you not to go outside not unless if you needed something but should-" I stumble and am shocked by a sudden hug coming from my daughter. My eyebrows meet and speculate more thoughts about what happened to her during a few weeks.

Then suddenly y/n cried up and my heart broke up thousand of pieces. Through I used to her cry of nonsense but this is different. I can feel it.

I began to think of a different reason why she cried like this. Is she on her period? Did a boy break her heart? If it is, then who? Oh god, my baby girl is heartbroken?! No-no-no.

" Hey, baby girl what's wrong? " I managed to ask a few words as I stroke her hair.

I didn't get her reply as she continues sobbing and sniffing on my chest. I continuously stroke her hair and rubbed a small circle on her back. With her tears I heard, I began to tear up which probably I got hurt when my baby girl gets hurt.

I saw Sam holding a can and some books and gave me confused look. I know he was confused about what is going on and the same as me. I only gave her shrug off before concentrate on keeping her calm down.

I sigh and sing a song that makes her calm down. It's a song that I always sing to her whenever she feels scared and upset. it her lullaby and till now I always sing to her when she felt like this. And now even though she's growing up ain't stopping this.

'Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better'

I sang softly and smile. I heard her sobs subside and her shoulder is no longer tensed. I kissed her head and quietly sing the rest of the song

By the song ends, y/n look up to me and hate to see her red-rimmed eyes and red nose face at me.

" Daddy... "

Y/n POV

After the song finish, I felt quite comfortable and my heart no longer pains me.

" daddy" I called up again. I hate seeing my dad worried glances and I wanted to back down but I know it's too late, now that I cried to his chest, and makes my father worried.

" what's wrong, princess " I nearly chuckle to hear the old nickname that I used to love but hate now. I should give my father annoying and death glares to him but I'm drained and tired to argue with my father.

Instead of the reply to his question, I took a piece of paper inside my leather jacket. With my shaky hand, I hesitate to give it to him. I saw my father unfold the paper and read it.

I know he reads it as I saw his face turn to a worried and horrifying face. I bit my lip as teardrops start to stream to his face and suddenly it aches my heart.

I didn't realize that my uncle Sam was there and he took the paper that my dad read it. My dad was frozen and saw Sam has the same reaction but he stumbled a bit and luckily sat on the chair or else he would hurt more.

The air was tense and several minutes seemed like a century to me as I was forced to see my dad and uncle of their horrifying reaction.

I was about to leave them and lock them up in my room but my dad grabs my wrist and put pressure on it, so I couldn't shove it off, I hesitate to look at his now red-rimmed eyes just like mine.

" Is this true? "

My heart broke as I nod

" when... When did it start? "

I flinched to hear a tone when my dad wanted a straight answer but I could see the difference of it. Instead of deadly and threatened, it's a broken and saddened tone that probably haunt me the rest of my life.

" honey, when did start... " I look up to him as a surprise to hear the familiar fatherly sweet tone that only me can know.

"a few months ago. When you just back from purgatory dad... " I mumble but I know that dad heard it because he mumbles coherent words that I know he's cursing, I wish it's not from me.

Then suddenly my dad sat down on the chair and then he hugged tightly couldn't breathe but slightly loose the tightness but still hugging me

" We can pull this up alright, we will. N/n we will fight this together okay, we'll find ways to rid this shit. We will be on your battle. " I then look up at my father and saw the tense and urging look " we will fight this out but you'll do your job ok, you'll kick this shit out, and keep fighting. Don't give up okay please, little n/n. " I heard him crack as didn't say anything considering, I was crying again and the inky response I can get is nodding.

Then I hug my father again and I feel another wrapped strong arms. I smile softly that uncle Sam joined the party. Now we are Complete, I feel like I'm ready to fight this shut out.

" Winchester is hard to kill, not even cancer. " I chuckle to hear uncle Sammy spoke.

"Yeah right, so you gonna do your part little princess, aright. Don't give up. " My father kiss my forehead. We parted away and wipes the tears we have. We laugh as we sniffle then finally our tears died down.

My father, Dean wipe the remaining tears and I look up to him confused. I saw him sad and regret my eyes and my heart sank.

" I love you N/Niepie, " then he kisses my forehead.

----AND CUT!!! ---

" Nice work J2 and Jodi damn there are no dried tears here " Robert yelled as all the staff and crew wipe their tears. " okay thirty minutes break, Jared, come to me I gotta asked you something" he added.

A group of assistants swarms the actors and did their task. Some wipe their sweats, do makeup, fixing their hair, and so on.

Jensen chuckles a little bit and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes.

" nice job dude, seem like the Days of our Lives gig paid off huh" A sixteen years old, young actress Jodi Smith tease him.

He rolled his eyes and ruffle her hair. " nice try but no you not riding my Baby" Jodi groan and about to reply when her assistant came and whisper to her ear "You're lucky, Mr. Ackles. Robert needs me now but I won't stop bothering you not until I sat on the driver seat and ride the impala".

When Jodi is out of sight, Jensen Ackles began to walk through his trailer. The thirty minutes of break is not enough of yearning for his daughter.

By the time he got inside. He locks it and sits on the couch. He rubbed his tired face as he grabs the old filthy Cinderella wallet. Today scene was emotional to him, not because of the scene itself but because he truly did miss his daughter y/n

In the finale of season 12, alongside Jack Kline played Alexander Calvert, and y/n Winchester played Jodi Smith we're both introduced and a new cast of Supernatural. Jensen was supposed to be glad that there are two new members of their family, but instead, it replaces guilt and dreadful feelings.

It's not the new cast members but the fact that Jodi Smith portrays is seem a great punch to his heart that he starts to realize he still has a daughter that should be taken care of.

No one knows not even Jared. Danneel and the kids, the crew nor the fans knew that the great Jensen Ackles has a secret daughter and only his close family knew about this truth.

" I'm sorry princess, How I wish I was there for you but you know I can't."

Jensen stroke a faded picture of an eight-year-old girl holding a doll whilst hugging the twenty-year-old Jensen Ackles.

" I'm sorry, I love you" he kisses the picture with so much love and tears began to stream down his cheeks

Hope you like it keep safe everyone. Reblog and like will yah.

#winchester x daughter reader #supernatural #jensen x daughter reader #jensen ackles #x daughter reader #dean x Reader #dean x daughter reader

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serialreblogger · 3 years

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Dracula is awesome from what I've read and I'm always happy to hear your thoughts about as coherent or incoherent as you want or feel up to

!! Have a small excerpt from my extremely self-indulgent WIP, Dracula Unabridged

After far too much close reading and conspiracy theorizing, here’s my proposed version of the section in chapter two describing Dracula’s appearance, as it would have existed in Jonathan’s diary prior to Mina’s careful edits (original below the cut):

The time spent at his side gave me ample opportunity to observe him. His dark eyes were alight, reflecting the flame before him as he gestured with fluttering hands and his narrow arms. His face was a strong aquiline, with a nose that protruded almost too much to be what one would call attractive—yet it lent the rest of his features a classical sort of charm. His brows were thick and dark, matching his hair, which curled madly around his ears. His cheekbones were high and, despite his enthusiasm, quite devoid of any trace of blush; rather, the flickering light in combination with the sharp angles of his face cast much of his countenance into stark and shifting shadow. Somehow he gave the impression of being carefully controlled, even as he gave himself over to his delight for the inhabitants of the hills. His eyes glittered at unexpected times, and I fancied more than once that his teeth flashed sharper and brighter than one would expect, seeming bone-white against the vibrant flush of his lips.

He leaned forward as he spoke, and I found myself leaning towards him, until at one point his fine hand brushed against my own. Despite the heat of the flame beside us, his skin remained cold as ice; and yet I do not think that was what made me shiver. I tried to conceal it, composing my expression firmly, but he evidently noticed something amiss.

He drew back as quickly as decorum would permit, a grim sort of smile crossing his face. Silence fell between us; not an uncomfortable silence, but one of that peculiar character which is special to the dark of night and the crackle of the fireside: closer to entrancement than comfort.

As the first fingers of dawn showed in the far window, there came to our ears the distant sound of many wolves howling. Dracula tilted his head, listening to them with a strange, melancholy expression.

“Is anything wrong?” I asked, a bit anxious for our safety despite the fortifications standing between us and the wild beasts.

“Nothing, nothing,” Dracula assured me. “It is only that I like to listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!” He broke off with a bitter sort of laugh. Then he rose, saying, “But you must be tired. Come, your bedroom is ready; do not fear to sleep as late as you will tomorrow. I must be away until very late in the afternoon, so sleep well and dream deeply, and rise only when you have rested to the fullest!”

With a courteous bow, still careful not to touch me, he opened for me himself the door to the little room that stood between my bedchambers and the dining hall. I thanked him and went in, coming straight to set this down lest I forget such a marvellous evening.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think—strange things, which I dare not confess, even if it be only to my own soul. God keep me, if He cares for such a wretch!

Original version:

I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy. His face was a strong—a very strong—aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. . . .

As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said:—

“Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!” Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

“Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said:—

“But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!” With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom...

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

#also an interesting fact: apart from how closely this description of dracula matches stoker's mentor henry irving #it also - according to aristotle's theories of phrenology anyway -#well. there are some pretty uh. pretty sexy connotations to some of these features #essentially if we're using aristotle's writings stoker is saying that dracula is very.. well-endowed #so that's #interesting #please do not ask what it felt like to go down that rabbit hole of research hyperfixation #those were some secret shrimp emotions #dracula #linden writes #i have So Many conspiracy theories about this book #thank you for the ask lunar <3 <3 <3 #ask linden

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