#This is more a prediction than anything (and also a method of hurting myself with feelings) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letteredlettered · 3 months

Text

Since people expressed interest in the comments about the music I used to write my current fic, I wanted to share some of what I explored to write it. I don't think that you need to know this canon or have read this fic to read this post, though I do spend a bit of time talking about how canon influenced the choices I made. Anyone who has been following this fic knows that it was supposed to be porn, and largely, it really still is for the most part a fic about sex. But I did do a lot of research on music with which I'm frankly not very familiar, and the process was really rewarding.

The fic is Time Signature, if you're interested. This post has a lot about music, electronic music, Chinese music, and music theory, as well as some links to music that interests me and inspired portions of the fic. I don't expect anyone to read anything this long, but it was nice to write it.

Canon. One of my favorite things about both book and drama canon is how in synch WWX/LWJ are cultivation-wise. It’s not just that they can predict the talisman the other will use or the seal the other will cast; they also have the same hunches solving mysteries, the same instincts protecting others, the same ideas about where to go. When writing an AU, it’s important to me to show that synchronization (beyond physical attraction and sex), mostly because I think it’s hot.

In canon, however, WWX revolutionizes cultivation, inventing a whole new method when no one ever thought that possible. I also think this is hot. I also think it’s hot if LWJ thinks it’s hot. Look, canonically, LWJ disapproves of demonic cultivation because it will injure WWX’s spirit and body, but imo there is a reason LWJ is so into WWX, and it’s not just because WWX bugs him. It’s not even just because WWX is really cute and happy and exuberant and everything that’s the opposite of his upbringing. I also like to think that it’s because WWX is a fucking genius, and LWJ doesn't mind the idea of upending tradition and the entire cultivation world as much as it really seems at first that he would; he just struggles with anything that could hurt WWX. So anyway, WWX being revolutionary, in basically a technological sense, is important to me.

Wangxian both play music canonically. LWJ’s playing is noted to be particularly powerful, and WWX’s chosen music is at least one part of his revolutionary cultivation method. Additionally, the song LWJ writes for them is an important plot point. It makes sense that in a modern AU, music is a point of connection, so that is what I chose for their careers.

The final point about canon I want to make in connection to the music for this fic is that this is a Chinese canon with Chinese characters set in China. I don’t think it’s wrong to write AUs set in the west. I have done so, and I think there is value in examining a Chinese canon that has become very popular in the west through the lens of the Chinese diaspora. But I also think that there is a lot of value in a western person such as myself trying to learn and understand the cultural context for a canon that I really like, even if I sometimes get it wrong.

I had decided to set this fic in China because I thought the setting would not strongly feature, which would give me an easy “in” to write something set in a place I don’t know much about. Directly after choosing the setting I chose their careers, which made me realize I needed to do a lot more research—both about the careers but also about the setting--than a fic that was supposed to be mainly porn should have really required.

Music genre choice. Lots of AUs I’ve read have Wangxian’s mutual interest be that they both play western classical instruments. This baffles me, but it’s what I’ve seen, so I loosely started there—ie, I spent some time thinking about what would be revolutionary in western instrumental music, which entailed doing some research on contemporary classical music. There are obviously pioneers in any music genre, folks doing new things, but it turned out I just did not know enough about this genre to really understand what would be truly avant-garde.

I took a step back and thought about the instrumental music I have personally heard that feels really new and different, and Philip Glass was the first thing that came to mind. I first heard of Philip Glass when I saw The Hours, for which he wrote the soundtrack. I still think that soundtrack is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard, and I did use it as inspiration for music in this fic, particularly LWJ’s. More on that later.

Philip Glass is great, but for all his eastern minimalist influences, he is a strong figure in the western paradigm. I did some research on Chinese contemporary instrumental music, but most of what I found had a really western flavor. I think there are two reasons for this—one is that I am in the west searching for articles in English; for all that we like to imagine the internet is universal, search algorithms and search history is actually making it far harder than it used to be to find material with which you are completely unfamiliar. Secondly, western music did in fact have a notable impact on Chinese music, which is fine, it’s still Chinese, but I worried about everything I wrote just sounding like it was about western classical, which is a concern of mine I’ll address more later.

Since I wasn’t finding what I wanted, particularly for WWX, in the “art music” (aka, lowercase “c” classical music, which Wikipedia says is also known as “cultivated music, serious music, or canonical music”—ie, instrumental music with strings, winds, percussion) scene, I realized I needed to examine the other contemporary music, by which I mean everything else. Since I am most familiar with rock, Radiohead immediately came to mind, but Radiohead is a band, and there are lyrics. Though the lyrics are not where the meaning of Radiohead songs lie (the vocals are treated as largely instrumental), if there were lyrics, I’d need to write about them, and I didn’t want to. More importantly, Radiohead is singular in what they do, which makes them difficult to categorize, and this makes them difficult to describe textually. You can say that Radiohead revolutionized rock, or even reinvented it, but that is not really addressing how fundamentally avant-gardeRadiohead is. Describing how revolutionary Radiohead is on paper really is just saying “but they’re different!” over and over again.

What I needed for WWX was a music genre that was revolutionary, an entire school of music that felt cutting edge and frankly, unfamiliar, and for that, I realized I needed my brother.

Some stories about my family. My brother is a music artist who creates electronic music. If you want to understand why it took me this long to get to my brother in this thought process, you should understand a few things about him. First, I love him a lot, but we’re not very close. Second, my brother is probably the quietest person I know—like, idk, LWJ levels of non-talking. Last, I do not understand my brother’s music. I’ve tried! I listened to it a lot! But when I didn’t understand, I asked questions, and my brother cannot explain any of it. He’s an expressive guy! Just not verbally, and as a very verbal person, I have a tough time when people cannot use their words. Like, even asking him what type of music he plays, he’ll say something like, “It’s complicated.” (This is a lie. He’ll look at me and say, “Type?” And I’ll try to explain what I mean. And he’ll say, “I don’t know.” And if I said, “Okay, but if you had to label it?” He’d laugh and say, “Why?” And if I said, “So I can better understand your music,” he’d think for a long time, then look very frustrated, and laugh, and say, “I don’t know?” I think we’ve literally had this exact conversation).

Anyway, possibly through one of these type of exchanges, where I’m grilling him like a school marm and he’s acting like I’m making him take a standardized test he hates (I’m his little sister. Would it be easier to subject him to these horrors if he was my little brother?), I learned that one of my brother’s influences is Aphex Twin. My brother loves Aphex Twin. I . . . don’t. I’ve listened to a lot of him (in order to understand my brother better); I do not like it, and I do not understand it. My brother talks about Aphex Twin like he’s a genius (if and when my brother talks at all). Now, my brother is a very smart guy; it’s not that I didn’t believe him when he said Aphex Twin was a genius, but he also gets . . . swept up by things, and as previously discussed, he doesn’t talk a lot, so I didn’t really understand what my brother meant by this. It took hearing about Aphex Twin randomly, in a couple other places, for me to realize Aphex Twin is a Big Deal. When I looked up Aphex Twin at some point in order to better understand the music my brother makes, I found that Aphex Twin is considered by many to be a genius and also a pioneer. Apologies to all of you who already knew that about Aphex Twin.

Sidenote, my brother’s wife is also a musician, though not professionally. She could have been, considering that she was ranked as one of the top flute players in Texas, and Texas is fucking huge. But no, professionally, my sister-in-law is in cognitive science and linguistics, which you may remember was the career LWJ had in Say More (my fiancée is also a linguist. I also know a few other linguists. My life is convenient for my Wangxian AUs, I gotta say). I mention my sister-in-law because my sister-in-law has enough musical acuity to also recognize that both my brother and Aphex Twin are geniuses, which really helped me to understand that even though I’m not really into this music at all, it really is a Big Deal.

So, I researched Aphex Twin and also went to my brother’s website for his music to find out what the hell this type of music is called, and it turns out there’s not a good name. IDM, which stands for intelligent dance music, is a label Aphex Twin himself famously does not like, and my brother labeled his own music as “acid, techno, house, electro.” Wikipedia said that Aphex Twin is known for techno, ambient, and jungle.

Anyway, into this confusing morass of electronic revolutionary music is where I decided to plunk Wei Ying.

Electronic music. Note for this section that I know nothing about electronic music. I’m writing this post partly to document the journey of discovery I went on to write this porn. I’m not really trying to educate anyone so much as I’m trying to provide insight as to what I researched for this fic and what the references are, in case the fic interested you.

When you really get down to it, music made with electronics has as many genres and styes as music made with more traditional instruments, and the labels are just as confusing (see this Wikipedia list of electronic music genres). For instance, “electronica” just means music made with electronics to some people, but to others it’s more specific. You’ve also got a bunch of other terms: ambient, EDM, techno, house, IDM.

This is all based on what I learned from Wikipedia, but here are some loose definitions as I understand them: There’s ambient, which is really made for background listening, and then there’s EDM (electronic dance music), which is made for active listening—ie, dancing. Within EDM you have lots of genres, such as techno; techno is usually characterized by a specific tempo and repeating structure, and house, which . . . is also characterized by a specific tempo and repeating structure, but the tempo is different. From what I can gather, house is also a bigger tent than techno; ie, many different genres and styles can be house, but techno is more often just techno. (Note that part of the reason all of this terminology has so much overlap is that it originated in different places; techno was invented in Berlin, house in Chicago.) Meanwhile, the list of genres of house is so big that it also has its own Wikipedia page, which is almost as large as the list of electronic music genres.

Note that there is such a thing as “house ambient”, which explodes the entire concept of ambient vs EDM. To aid in that explosion, IDM is described on Wikipedia as including styles such as ambient techo, and “is regarded as better suited to home listening rather than dancing.” What stands out about IDM, and the reason it is featured in the fic, is that it’s known for being experimental. (I’ll add that it emerged in the 90s, which isn’t great for my fic. Whatever WWX is doing, he is on the edge, and 90s music already old to him, even if he’s Aphex Twin’s biggest fan! But alas, my research could not tell me what is happening right now, because you really have to be involved in The Scene to understand what’s new. By the time it’s documented, it’s already really a little old.)

If you are researching electronic music and how it is revolutionary, you’re probably going to get into its evolution and history, since this is a new style of music. And if you are looking into the origins of this kind of music, you’re going to find Brian Eno. And if you’re looking into Brian Eno, you’re going to find minimalism.

Minimalism. Brian Eno is an extremely famous dude. I’d probably heard of him before, but I am very good with big concepts and pretty bad with details, so because I didn’t know anything about the bigger concepts behind ambient/electronic music/minimalism, I never paid attention. Now I’m hearing about him literally everywhere, which is funny, since it’s not like he’s new news. Ezra Klein was literally waxing poetic about Music for Airports just a month ago.

Eno is famous for his pioneering work in ambient music and electronic music, and, as one might expect, electronic ambient. Eno was always doing experimental, avant-garde stuff, and early on he embraced a minimal style. He later coined the term “ambient music.”

What’s interesting about this is that around the same time as Eno was doing this in later 1960s/early 1970s, a new kind of art music was being born in classical circles. This is the capital “M” Minimal music, for which—you guessed it—Philip Glass is really famous. And when you look at Philip Glass’s influences, he was deeply influenced by the minimalism of eastern music, especially Indian and Tibetan music. I couldn’t really find anything saying that Brian Eno was directly influenced by traditional eastern music, but Eno is definitely a fan of Glass and vice versa; they really build on each other.

This ended up just being a very cool intersection for the fic that I didn’t plan. I didn’t end up using it very much, but I must say I was stupidly pleased that the kind of music I was looking into for both of these characters has such deep roots in eastern music traditions. So now let’s talk a little bit about eastern music, specifically Chinese music, since that’s where this fic is based.

Chinese music. I did read a bit about Chinese music for this fic, and I have to say that I still don’t know a lot about it. As stated above, I’m in the west, using my western search techniques, looking for primarily articles in English (though I get Google to translate some things). I also just have a western understanding of music and music history, and it turns out, surprise, different cultures are different, and my entire paradigm for understanding music does not really apply to music from other cultures.

I, and many of us, want music to be a universal language, something that can move through all barriers and touch us in our souls. And it is! I have listened to and loved music not from my culture! But thinking of music as something intrinsically universal and therefore immediately moving to everyone really collapses the rich history of musical tradition all cultures have. Music really is like a language, in that it is built on the culture that creates it; it has its own internal logic; it has style and meaning that depend on the history of that tradition and the understanding of its audience. The brief reading I’m going to do to write some porn will not give me to understand the deep and rich tradition of Chinese music, but also, frankly, even if I turned all my efforts and career to learning and understanding this right now, I still would not have the best comprehension. I don’t even comprehend western music, and I grew up with it. So, forgive me for the paucity of my understanding and knowledge, and please correct me if I make mistakes.

When I think about Chinese music that I know about, I think of two things: modern and traditional. The modern stuff I’m thinking of is stuff like C-pop, but also the things you might hear on the soundtrack for a drama or movie. To me, none of this music sounds that different than western pop or western soundtracks. There are a few reasons for this: one, there are tons of Chinese music that is not reaching me. Two, maybe I just think it doesn’t sound that different because I can only really process what I recognize. Three, in a similar vein, maybe I’m thinking “that sounds like what I know” when really what I know sounds like what I’m hearing. Globalization is definitely doing things to music; if you’re telling me that Asian pop is not influencing western pop right now, I’m going to think you’re crazy, considering the influence and popularity Asian pop has in the US and Europe right now. And four, western music did have an impact on Chinese music, so there’s that.

Obviously, the music genre I chose for Wei Ying falls into the modern sphere, and I certainly looked into the techno/EDM/IDM/electronic/ambient/house scene in China. Articles I found stated it took a little longer for EDM to pick up steam in China, but now it’s definitely going strong. There are some great electronic music festivals, EDM clubs, underground EDM scenes, and EDM music artists (composers and DJs!) in China. Researching these artists was pretty difficult, especially because I wanted Wangxian’s musical discussions to be highly technical, and for highly technical discussions about EDM you are wandering into some very niche spaces. I’m sure such spaces about EDM in China exist, but they’re most likely to be in Chinese.

As I’ve said, globalization is a factor when it comes to cultural difference in music, and I’d add here that because this genre of music is so new, globalization has even more influence, from what I can tell. That said, I do not want to diminish how much influence very specific locations have to do with this type of music. EDM is very tied to clubs (because of the dancing) and performance (because of deejaying, and also because of things like live coding/algorave), which is probably why we get so many granular genres of house—Chicago house is different from Detroit, just for example. Regardless, I stuck with researching a lot of western artists for both the music and musical discussions in the fic, mostly because the music is supposed to be so new and avant-garde that is should not be something overly familiar to the reader, even if they’re steeped in electronic music genres.

Then there’s traditional music.

Traditional music. Traditional music obviously had a huge influence on Chinese modern music. The influence of traditional eastern music on modern eastern music, as well as traditional eastern music itself, is what really influenced a lot of western minimalism of the 1960s and 70s (and onward). To be clear, not all “eastern” traditional music is the same. It’s just as richly diverse regionally as traditional western music, if not more so, given “the east” is fucking huge—though I will say that a lot of people think of western music as pretty monolithic, because folk is characterized as a separate tradition than classical. When you consider ancient western folk, there’s a shit ton of it, and it’s quite diverse. There is also folk music in eastern music traditions, and this is different than music that would have been played in courts and palaces, so there’s really a ton going on.

Traditional music is what people think of when they think of eastern music being “weird,” which is something I really hate. Look, I love being weird; I think weird is cool; it’s great. But weird means unusual, and traditional music is very usual; people who say that just mean it’s unusual for them, and they should think about their words. What they’re trying to say is that traditional eastern music will sound very different for many western listeners, even though, again, we like to think of music as so universal, actually!, because it’s based on math, actually!, and math is so universal!!! The truth is that math is patterns, and patterns are things that your brain recognizes when there are familiar elements, and when there are unfamiliar elements your brain has trouble recognizing the pattern. So, again, music is a way to communicate across all kinds of boundaries, but it is not a universal translator. (But it does make you wonder . . . if Lan Zhan played Inquiry, could Aeneas answer???)

Regarding the unfamiliar math, what we’re talking about is scales. I think most people know this part. Eastern scales are based on math, just like western scales, but the frequencies are divided up differently. Among other things, traditional Chinese music did not use equal temperament, which means depending on what note you start with, the intervals for all the notes on the scale were be different. A way of thinking about this, at least as I understand it, is that a piano is even tempered. All the notes are always the same whether you’re playing in C major or B flat, because you have no control over the frequency produced when you press the key. But if you’re using just intonation—say you’re using an instrument with just a few strings—you’re adjusting the frequency of the note to match your scale. It requires extremely precise hearing and playing ability.

Notation for traditional Chinese music was really different than how I as a westerner understand it. For one thing, it didn’t include rhythm, and for another, it represented more a framework for improvisation than every single precise note. (See Gongche notation, Wikipedia.)

Authorship was also thought of pretty differently. When I googled “great Chinese composers,” the only results I was getting were twentieth century. There are some great ancient Chinese composers, but I had to do a lot of digging to find them, and trying to find someone like the Chinese equivalent of Beethoven is just the wrong approach. When you get right down to it, this really seems to be about the fundamental difference between western individualism vs eastern collectivism and community-based thinking. The individual artist is not the hero of the story. That said, the tradition of the music is very heroic. For instance, the notation allows such variation that the same piece can really build and grow through different artists, much like a story through oral tradition. Additionally, for an artist in an ensemble piece to stand out would really be quite rude; the point is not the individual talent of the musicians but the fundamental beauty of the piece. (This was a particularly hard thing to research, and I mostly found out what I laid out above from various folks answering questions in forums. The best one I found is here.)

Another thing is that harmony, as we think of it, was just not really a thing in traditional Chinese music. The focus was on a melody, which is where minimalism comes in. I’d add here that the “as we think of it” is pretty important, because the western paradigm, including western music language, is not super great at really capturing the nuance of Chinese music. I am terrible at tracking my sources when I research stuff for fic, so I was trying to find some of them now, and I came across this article, which examines the harmony that did exist, but how different it is from what we think of when we think of western harmony.

Despite the reading I did on this subject, very little about Chinese traditional music made it into the fic. I do have Lan Zhan reading a book on traditional music that he hates. This isn’t based on a book I found, but rather to show that Lan Zhan isn’t really into the idea of musical “purity,” that is, ideas of what you should and shouldn’t do with music. That said, I’m not really aware of what strictures around traditional Chinese music are like, or what the Chinese thought is on that. I am aware of how deeply restrictive western thought is regarding music theory, and that’s really where that part of the fic was coming from.

I’d originally had Lan Zhan reading a book on western music theory and very deeply hating it, but I also felt like having him read a book on western theory could reinforce the idea that he’s working within a western paradigm, when really the whole point is that this Lan Zhan very intentionally uses traditional music values. Due to his inspiration from Wei Ying, he’s breaking the norms of how that music works, but he's not necessarily making it western; he’s making it avant-garde. Basically, my inspiration was a Chinese Philip Glass, but I didn’t want to say that because as mentioned above, Glass is still western, no matter his influences. That said, Wei Ying does compare Lan Zhan to Philip Glass and also Tan Dun, who you might recognize as the guy who did the soundtrack for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, among many other very famous projects.

Tan Dun has in fact been called the Chinese Philip Glass, which is probably not very respectful to Tan Dun, who is himself an incredible (and experimental!) composer. I should note, however, that Tan Dun is Chinese American—he was born in China, but got a degree at Columbia and has lived in New York since. Also, he is particularly famous for marrying Eastern traditionalism with western style, and that really wasn’t what I wanted for Lan Zhan. I didn’t want Lan Zhan to be incredible because he was using western traditions, though he is familiar with them and can make very talented use of them. A lot of very famous Chinese modern composer are famous for that, and that music is still very Chinese. That said, I felt that if I made that Lan Zhan’s style, it would feel like I was saying Lan Zhan’s music is special because it’s western, and that was something I really wasn’t keen on.

In the end, I possibly did the fic and traditional Chinese music a disservice by having Lan Zhan read his book and hate on it. One of the whole reasons western music theory sucks is it can be pretty racist, and that’s what I was trying to avoid, but by conflating my rage at western music theory with eastern, I didn’t really help things much. But anyway, since I’ve now mentioned it, let’s just take a slight detour to talk about what I mean by racist music theory.

Western music theory racism. There’s a scene in the movie Tár that really solidified my feelings on the subject. In it, a student who identifies as BIPOC and pangender, says they don’t really have much use for Bach because of Bach’s misogynist history. The extremely famous director, Tár, played by Cate Blanchett, lambasts the student for “cancelling” Bach because of Bach’s personal life. The student goes on to say that they really just don’t have much interest in cis male white composers, and Tár continues to lambast the student for considering things like gender and race in conjunction with the art.

My understanding of this scene was that it was demonstrating that Tár is a jerk, so full of herself that she can’t listen to other voices, and so steeped in her 18th century western ideas of genius that she’s literally silencing the music voices she’s supposed to support. That was not most people’s reading of the scene, and in retrospect, possibly not the intention of the film. It seems rather telling that not a lot is known about Bach’s misogyny or lack thereof; there are plenty of other “great” western composers that are known to be worse in terms of misogyny and abuse, and yet the film did not make this scene about them. In retrospect, maybe that scene wanted to paint this student as kind of ignorant for cancelling Bach, and Tár really puts them in their place when she describes how art is more important than the artist.

Fuck that. I certainly believe that art is more important than the artist. JK Rowling sucks; that doesn’t mean I will stop loving HP fic and the part it’s played in my life. But the ugliness of the scene is that it hinges on importance of Bach, and look here, shocker, Bach is not essential, just as JKR is not essential if you decide you don’t ever want to familiarize yourself with the literature of TERFs. Even if you want to be a musician and create or conduct music, Bach is just not essential.

He’s pretty important if you want to be a western music historian, true, but when we talk about music there are many, many music traditions that are incredibly worthwhile and important that not only weren’t created by cis white men, but also weren’t ever derived or influenced by cis white men. If you think that you need Bach to know and love and create and perform and conduct music, it’s because you’re operating in a single paradigm that has become yes, universally known, but also for that reason oppressive and imperialist. I am not saying western classical music is bad because it’s imperialist, just to be clear. Bach’s great! Hate ‘im, but I do love me some Beethoven and he was also very cis and male and white and also a complete douche! What I’m saying is that forcing this music tradition on others is deeply imperialist, and it happens all the time.

Anyway, this is really a tangent, because despite my very good intentions to write about Chinese music, as I have stated, almost everything I used for reference was western, even a lot of the stuff I listened to. Maybe I just wanted to acknowledge that that’s a little racist, even though I tried not to be. Maybe I also wanted to hate on Tár and leave you with this interesting video about white supremacy in music theory.

References. Finally, we’ve reached the part I had originally intended to post, which is why I started writing this. Below are the essays and articles I used to write this fic. They were used in three ways: 1) to describe the music (though I also listened to things, see next section), 2) to inform Lan Zhan’s critiques and Wei Ying’s ideas—though I read a lot of essays to do that, just a crazy amount considering how little of the fic is actually about that, and 3) to describe the reading material Wei Ying and Lan Zhan exchange.

Music Beyond Airports – Appraising Ambient Music

This is a series of essays largely focused around Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, though there’s a lot of other stuff as well. I didn’t read everything in here, but the collection is absolutely fascinating. “Ambient House: “Little Fluffy Clouds” And The Sampler As Time Machine” is one of the “articles” Wei Ying sends Lan Zhan; meanwhile, the collection as whole is what Lan Zhan sends Wei Ying when he says he’s been reading about ambient house. Additionally, “Adaptive Game Scoring With Ambient Music” really influenced Lan Zhan’s commentary about arpeggiation, the first time he comments on Wei Ying’s music.

Counterpoint - Tracking in the Music of Aphex Twin

I have some embarrassment about this, given that the article is about counterpoint, and as I have discussed above, eastern traditional music doesn’t really employ that in the way westerners think about it. However, it’s also pretty backwards to restrict Wei Ying to traditional eastern music, as modern Chinese music includes plenty of counterpoint, and part of the point of the fic is that Wei Ying is doing entirely new things that haven’t been done before. Well. They’ve been done by Aphex Twin, as described in this piece, which also describes the first piece that Wei Ying plays for Lan Zhan in the fic, in the car. I did lift the phrase “pedagogy of counterpoint,” and could not decide whether it was long enough or significant enough to credit in the fic.

Unequal Temperament: A Review of Aphex Twin’s SYRO

I can’t remember what I used this article for. It’s an interesting read.

Reverb Machine (the entire website)

This is the site I kept returning to over and over and over again. Most of the articles about electronic really focus on either the equipment used or chords. In the fic, Lan Zhan isn’t supposed to know much about equipment or how any of it is used, because he does not do electronic music. Also, I didn’t really want to talk much about chord progressions, because those discussions are steeped in western music theory, and I wanted it to be possible for Wei Ying to be using the kind of scales traditional Chinese music used, even if a lot of modern Chinese music does use an even-tempered 12-tone scale. However, this site has a lot, and I ended up returning to it again and again so Wei Ying could say an offhand thing about reverb, and to describe certain things.

Notably, Wei Ying’s track, sex.mp3 is loosely based around Trent Reznor’s and Atticus Ross’s soundtrack to The Social Network. I haven’t even talked about Trent Reznor, but he was also someone I considered deeply when I started thinking about making Wei Ying do electronic music. In case you don’t know, Reznor was the artist behind Nine Inch Nails, but in later years he moved on to more experimental things, including movie soundtracks. Side note, movie soundtracks and video games is where a lot of these experimental artists doing either minimalism, ambient, or electronica, or a combination of all three end up, and I ended up reading a lot about video game music.

But anyway, when I saw the Social Network, I came out of it 1) admiring Aaron Sorkin and wishing I didn’t admire Aaron Sorkin because he’s kind of a douche, 2) shipping Mark and Eduardo way too much for my comfort, 3) going HOLY SHIT THAT SOUNDTRACK. Turns out I was not alone in finding that soundtrack totally different and new compared to anything I have ever heard, because as it turns out, it really was—wait for it—revolutionary. I understand that I have now said that about Glass, Eno, Radiohead, and Aphex Twin, but hey, people are doing things in music. Like I get that pop and hiphop artists are revolutionizing their genres all the time, but also it is possible for music as we know it to be redefined, and it’s not just the weird shit you hear that sounds like noise (there is a place for the weird shit that sounds like noise, and Brian Eno is closer to it than any of the above mentioned; I am not dissing weird shit that sounds like noise, because it is part of how we get where we are going).

Anyway, I used this website’s essay about The Social Network’s piece, “In Motion” to describe some of the music and inform some commentary on it.

“East Meets West: A Musical Analysis of Chinese Sights and Sounds, by Yuankai BaoSounds, by Yuankai Bao” by Jiazi Shi

This was the only essay I found that really had the extremely niche technical jargon that I really wanted for the fic that was also about Chinese music. You’ll note that it’s about a Chinese composer who is, again, famous for marrying eastern and western tradition, but this was what I could find in English, and I searched a lot. You’ll note that Lan Zhan’s very specific comment about the key change is something very directly inspired by this grad school dissertation. You’ll also note that this is where I found “Flowing Stream,” including a description of the song and the lyrics.

Music. A lot of fics like this one will link you to a specific piece that the character is playing. I could not do that, because the music in my fic is very intentionally made up. As I have been saying, the whole point is that Wei Ying is pushing the boundaries, inventing music that does not exist. So is Lan Zhan, by the end. I listened to music to inspire the descriptions, but it is not what they are playing, and almost none of it is Chinese. I’d be very interested in finding some Chinese music that is working on some of the principles of minimalism and electronic that these pieces employ.

Aphex Twin – Stone In Focus

Now you’ve come to the climax—this is really the story of how I learned to love Aphex Twin. This piece makes me cry. It’s what I used to describe the piece that has the remix of Lan Zhan’s guqin piece from 12 years ago. Obviously, the guqin piece mentioned in the fic is the canonical piece, Wangxian, but I find Wangian in the drama cheesier than I want it to be, and this Aphex Twin piece doesn’t have the Wangxian part. It’s just the sad longing part before Wangxian enters, but you’ll also notice that there are no flutes! Again, this is not the piece Wei Ying wrote; it’s just what I used for the description.

I didn’t link to the YouTube video I was watching, because the video was a collection and this didn’t come on until after minute thirteen. But that video just has this very sad tunnel that looks like maybe it’s for a train, and the rain is falling, and that makes me cry as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHl4NVytGpo&t=1074s

Book featuring Ndidi O - Hold On, I'm Coming

Wait, you’re saying, this is not electronic/house/ambient at all; this is just a trick to get me to watch one of your favorite wangxian vids! You’re right! But frankly, I was not focused on the genre when describing the music; I was focused on getting the feel of it that I wanted. The opening sequence to this was what I used to describe the track they make love to. (Lan Zhan starts making out with him and kind of slowly humping him to the track with the wangxian remix, but then Lan Zhan demands he plays something else, and this is what I listened to to get the feel for it.)

This pieces is a cover, and frankly, I can’t find out much about it. But just thinking about it turns me on and makes me cry and makes me feel so much, I can’t do it too often.

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross – “In Motion,” from soundtrack to The Social Network

As noted above, this piece inspired sex.mp3, but I will say that the article I linked above about this piece, as well as the memory of the soundtrack itself, inspired descriptions more than listening to the piece itself. In the fic, sex.mp3 is initially described as “violent.” This was because I didn’t know if the track would play a big part in the fic, and then when it did, I really had to change to both to fit the meaning and the flavor I wanted; it became “anxiety inducing,” and that’s when it became “In Motion.” “In Motion,” however, is kind of too bright and peppy to really be sex.mp3, though I will say I was trying to listen to it just to write this section of the post, and I had to turn it off. It makes me SO anxious.

Philip Glass – soundtrack to The Hours

I’m linking the whole soundtrack, because in the fic Lan Zhan writes several related pieces, which is what this soundtrack is. I can’t even recommend one piece on this soundtrack, because it’s the thing as a whole that really makes you cry, and I can’t say I listened to a specific part of it to describe Lan Zhan’s music, because I know it so well that I only have to listen to a small piece to get all of it.

Flowing Water, played by Chen Leiji

The part this played in the fic is obvious. I listened to at least five versions of Flowing Stream/Flowing Water, and this is the one that I like the best. However, like all the renditions I listened to, the piece eventually becomes pretty complex and different than I wanted for Lan Zhan. In fact, what the narration describes as “showing off technique” is what I found in all recordings of this piece. I guess if you’re going to play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on YouTube you’re going to do something impressive with it, but I will say this piece is still very close to what I wanted.

I will also say that when I searched for this piece, as well as several other traditional songs, the search results had a lost of stuff that said you can listen to these pieces for tranquility and calm and meditation. I suggest listening to this one as extremely passionate and longing, and you’re going to get a lot more from it. If you resign it to the background, yeah, it’s kind of nice. If you let each note really speak to you, you’re going to really ache in a beautiful way.

Brian Eno – Ambient 1, Music for Airports

After hearing so much about Eno and Music for Airports, I was a little afraid I wouldn’t like it. After all, this isn’t really my genre, and witness how long it took me to find something I liked by Aphex Twin. However, I really needed some inspiration for the piece Wei Ying composes after Lan Zhan breaks them up, so I started listening to it.

The opening to this album is not the heartbreaking thing that the fic describes. It in fact does break my heart, but that is because there is something so sweet about it, lonely and sweet, but also perfectly fine being by itself. This piece is like a child alone in a room, figuring out blocks. This piece is like a cat on a piano, content with its nonsense noise. This piece is what it’s like to be alone and to be fine with that, to love from afar and be fine with that. It still brings me to tears, listening to it.

Radiohead – Everything in its Right Place

Apparently I did not succeed in writing all the music without Radiohead. I will say it happened because I happened to be watching a TV show that just happened to use this song right when I needed something powerful. I was already thinking about them, because my BFF was listening to a podcast about In Rainbows, which explains the children shouting “Yay!” in 15 Step. I really wanted something other than rain to get sampled in Wei Ying’s music, and my brother has specifically used his children talking or his babies crying as samples. Once Lan Zhan knows about A-Yuan, I wanted to use that idea, so I listened to 15 Step again, which is far too peppy for what I needed. But then Everything In Its Right Place came on, and it’s actually way too melancholy for what I needed, but that doesn’t really matter; I just needed to get a few notes described, so this is what I used for inspiration for what Wei Ying plays Lan Zhan after he admits to being in love with him. I will just say that re-listening to this song really does remind me of just how much Kid A means to me, but also how much it means to, like, music. There was really nothing like it at the time.

I will end this post by saying that I am not, in fact, a "music" person. So many people need and rely on music to get them through tough times. I mostly don't care about it. I don't have a Spotify account, and I can't imagine taking the time to really curate playlists.

But one thing I can say about me and my tastes is that I'm interested in learning. I want to try new things and hear things that I haven't heard before. To be a little self-aggrandizing, I think that that's a good thing. I think it makes me a better person to work on listening to things that I'm a little unfamiliar with and learn what's great about them. I think I got to do that quite a bit writing this, even though in the end I used a lot of pieces I was familiar with to do the actual writing. I hope that maybe someone reads this and decides to listen to something new, just like I did.

63 notes · View notes

tragicalwisteria · 9 months

Note

hii ignore this if you want but

if someone seriously hurt you, and you had to get revenge, would you kill them or hurt them back?

hello!

and to answer your question- yeah why not. i mean unless they've hurt me so badly i can't move or something (assuming you mean hurt as in a physical fight). in that moment i wouldn't really care because id be angry and it would also be self defence (id have no moral qualms on someone who hurt me first, if that's what you're asking). if hurt in an emotional sense (say they did something bad to someone close to me) it becomes a bit more nuanced as then i would have to think of some intricate way of how to hurt them again. if i was to kill them i would need an alibi as it would no longer count as self defence and there's no point in committing a murder and getting caught. but knowing myself as being more destination than journey oriented i may not be arsed to plan properly in which case i may not do anything at all. the most satisfying method would be to hurt them in a similar fashion to how they hurt me (via someone im close to or whatever) but in all honesty that wouldn't work because i have no access to weapons or out of my house without being spotted by someone. yeah this sounds way more psychopathic than i intented it to be but i have thought about this before. i think i would in a hypothetical situation but obviously i cannot predict what would actually happen.

but anyways hope you're having a good day today!

#thanks for the ask anon #:)

1 note · View note

prof-peach · 3 years

Note

Hello there.. My name is Ranny and I saw Pokemon matchups are open.

I read somewhere among your posts that Ghost types could be good for little exposure to the outside? I could be mistaken, but I'll leave it to the expert.

I feel I'm quite.. difficult.. to matchup with and I can't think of something myself, I don't want to hinder any Pokemon's growth with my circumstances.. which I should probably explain? I guess I don't need to go into too much detail but I have a lot of anxiety and depression, social anxieties and ptsd (very reactive to things moving too fast above me). I have fluctuating agoraphobia also, when at a severe level being too close to windows and doors will trigger panic attacks.. I have mobility issues down to Fibromyalgia, communication and management difficulties due to Autism, and I have a hard time concentrating or get lost in hyperfocussing down to ADHD..

I'm very introverted, an INFJ personality, but I do get lonely, very lonely. My depression pretty much has me feeling low more often than not but also pretty hopeless in finding a Pokemon friend, partner, companion, or anything that won't ultimately become hindered by my existence..

Any shred of hope I have of finding someone, even if just the right direction toward one, has been poured into this.. But ultimately, please don't feel too bad if you can't think of any or don't have any available.

I have seen many specialists for my mental and physical health too, it's a painfully slow process, I just thought some company might help the journey perhaps..

Fingers crossed, huh?

Many kind regards, Ranny

The right thing you did here was explain. I’m able to give you a far more accurate suggestion because of that, so thank you for being honest about what you need a Pokemon for, aside from good company.

You’re not wrong, finding a Pokemon must have been hard for you, no one individual Pokemon could cover all the bases. That being said, a group of three low impact species could indeed help you here.

Because your situation is so specific, there’s a little less wiggle room on what you could get away with keeping, but for sure you have some choices.

So first off, emotional help, shuppet. A Pokemon happy to be indoors, often willing to help those who show them love. They’ll help regulate the moods, keep you calmer, happier, and overall more freed up to handle other things. The feelings of anxiety and depression are exhausting, You know that, but without that constant background noise of it all, you’ll have a lot more energy and opportunity to enjoy more things. In serious cases, even two shuppet would help, so talk to your doctor and also the pokecentres near you about this. This of course can be done over the phone or online, if it suits you better. Shuppet are underrated, and have high populations in the wild, I don’t know why folks overlook them, perhaps the dex entries around the species spook them. Either way, can’t suggest better than them.

Second up, indoor happy psychic types. The psychic lines are adept at aiding day to day, if you hurt and can’t reach something, or you feel tired and can’t get up to deal with going to the bathroom or something, they’re more than capable of using telekinetic powers to assist your movements, even in the bad days. Some are fully able to learn how to help regulate moods too, predicting panic attacks for their trainers, using various methods to help you before things get too stressful, or even dangerous. They also regulate brain waves, so your autism may feel a little easier to manage the longer you spend with a psychic partner. It’s proven most psychic types will do this automatically, to aid their human family day to day.

My top psychic pokemon picks for you:

solosis - a Pokemon that can and does exist in the vacuum of space, they don’t require food like average Pokemon, and have a very upbeat outlook on things more often than not, thrive indoors, so long as they get enrichment and company.

Espurr - correctly trained these Pokemon can also double up as a really good buddy for those who feel calmer when petting or brushing fur. They can be great loving companions, but also are notoriously happy entertaining themselves should you be busy, and find the life of an indoor Pokemon quite agreeable sometimes.

If I was in your position, and I felt like I could afford and handle three, I would get all three Pokemon I suggested. This gives them days off, time to relax, and breaks from the duties of a support Pokemon. Everything needs time out, so having a care rotor will allow them to plan for time out, to do things they enjoy too.

You’ll have to take this list to your local adoption centre, or even lab/professor, and they will help to put you on a waiting list for the correct species you decide upon in the end. You can’t just go and catch one from the wild in this case, these Pokemon all need very intense and specific lessons to help them be the best aids to you. The facility that eventually helps you find a set of partners will then try to match your personality to those of the support Pokemon then have ready to be rehomed. Get ready for a few visits to the facilities, to meet potential matches, but it’s well worth it. The company and love Pokemon give us is proven to aid in mood, and wellbeing. I think it’d really do you well to take at least a shuppet on.

Be aware, when possible it’s still nice for these Pokemon to go outside, even if you don’t. If you have access to a yard, or a shared garden, try to let them have time in the sun when possible if they are interested. Socialising them is also advised, even if only with friends and family’s Pokemon, send them with trusted individuals to the shops, just to take a break from the house, you know, normal junk like that.

The facility that will eventually assign you a partner will make sure to pick individuals who suit your lifestyle as best as possible, so you shouldn’t end up with a partner who isn’t ok with the conditions you’ve set out.

Do not lose hope, there’s a combo out there for everyone, and I think this set is a good one for you from what you’ve told me. Hopefully you can move forward and make some neat friends!

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #good luck buddy

171 notes · View notes

thesunshinebunny · 3 years

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

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

Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

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

The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #uuuufff #this was looong #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x reader #angst #eren smut

219 notes · View notes

msblackx · 2 years

Text

Dear Diary - Blissember 1

hope you’ll enjoy this little piece here :) I’m actually proud of myself, since it’s the first thing I’ve finished in a lot. I love this blissember’s prompts, and I hope to be able to partecipate to all of them!

In the text you’ll read names that will probably make you wonder what the hell you’re reading… Don’t worry! Those are some new characters, from the fanfic I’ve been writing for almost a year, now. Context will be given either in the next days of blissember, or posted here on my tumblr.

Dear Mum,

Today the air’s cold, for the first time in a while. It surprised me, I was not ready, at all. It’s not snowing, though. Dad says it won't snow until at least November (but then, again, he also said it wasn't going to get this cold until at least next month).

The first week of school has gone by, longer and even more dreadful that I’d predicted it to be. Since the very first day, Diana has insisted to take me out on the Pitch, always saying she has to practice her new strategy with someone actually skilled, and, since Albus and Adhara have refused to put up with this nonsense, the most obvious choice was me. I know why she’s really doing that, and I know that Adhara wouldn't have missed a single opportunity to breathe the green and wet grass of the Quidditch Pitch. And also, Diana is a monster on the Pitch, even her new, unpracticed method seems flawless. But, honestly, I’m grateful for it, and for all of my friends.

My mind sometimes forgets. And, before guilt spills in and through me, it’s beautiful. It’s warm, and peaceful, and quiet again for fragments of time -though short, not even enough for a second, let alone a lifetime- and it’s bittersweet. Because my ribs still hurt. And so does my chest. And so does my head, full of memories of you.

I don't know how many times I’ve fought the stupid urge to cuss in this letter, but you hated it. You said that it made me sound ugly, and that I was too pretty for that. If you knew how many fucking times I’ve felt like screaming every word that sounds hideous. Because that’s how I feel. You taught me to never keep anything inside, to never be ashamed of my emotions, and to always speak them out-loud. I don't think you’d like to hear me doing that, now. But you can’t, can you? You can never hear anything again. You can't hear my emotions ever again. And I have so many… too many. Overwhelming me. Flowing into unknown, with not enough time to even process them. And I had in mind to say a lot to you. A lot. A lot. A lot.

But I’ve barely said “I love you”, and you’ve left so early. Too early. All the things we’ve left unsaid, they weigh on me deeply, day after day. But, I suppose, that’s what grief really is, isn't it? All the laughs, the confessions, the fights, the hugs, the midnight talks, the complaints about Dad, our Love, left unsaid… lingering in the, now thicker, veil between you and me. It’ll become like a comfortable silence, sooner or later, and grief’ll become somewhat pleasant, maybe even sort of warm and enjoyable, and I’ll wish it to never go away. Because that’s you, and that’s us, and it’s more magical than magic itself.

Maybe you’ll never write to me again, or constantly send me sweets behind Dad’s back. And you’ll never hug and kiss me each time I’ll come back home. And you’ll never take me to King’s Cross again. And you’ll never tell me again, for the millionth time, how you and Dad met, or kissed for the first time. And you’ll never call me Scorp again, or even call me at all. Maybe you’ll never wake me up, in the middle of the night, with an Howler, just because you promised to sing me Happy Birthday every year, right when the new day began. And it hurts. It hurts so much, I can’t breathe. But that’s what has made those memories even more special and unforgettable. And I’ll never forget how much I’ve loved you.

I still love you Mum. And I miss you forever.

Always, your Scorp.

@kidovna @girlwithacrown

24 notes · View notes

official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 3/6)

A fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

Warnings: Charlie not obeying any rules! Word Count: 2,778

I couldn’t believe it. I have been gone for 15 minutes and the dragon was nowhere to be found. How does one lose a bloody dragon? How does a thing of the size of a small van disappear?

I looked everywhere in the vicinity of Asterin’s habitat but I couldn’t find her. I know she can’t fly and on foot, she can’t be that fast that she would go to any other dragon enclosure. So where could she be?

I looked at my wristwatch, it was almost 9 o’clock. How am I supposed to find a black dragon in the dark?

I had no choice, however, if my boss finds out that I lost her on the first day of her being here, he is not only going to take this opportunity away from me but I am pretty sure I will get fired. Dragon on a loose is dangerous enough, but with 5 villages around the reserve, it’s even worse.

I checked every place the dragon could be in the 500-meter radius. I was getting desperate and was ready to go wake up Matthew and tell him what happened when I remembered that I haven’t checked the nearby forest.

Since Asterin was found by the MacFusty family inside one and was hurt and scared, it didn’t even come to mind that that is where she could be.

I hurried to the edge of the forest and lit up my wand – it was too dark to see anything without it.

About 5 minutes of me walking, I heard the rustling of leaves. I lowered my wand as I didn’t want to shine the light directly into the dragon’s eyes and took a few cautious steps forward trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Asterin, it’s me, Charlie. Please don’t get startled. I just wanted to bring you some food.” I whispered.

I have never been so afraid of a dragon before. I didn’t know her well enough to predict her next move. I know I should stay calm as she can sense fear but I couldn’t help it. She could just jump at me and eat me alive. Maybe that’s her delicacy – eating people.

“Asterin?” I tried calling her again.

I heard a twig break and pointed my wand in the direction of the sound. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my ribcage when I didn’t see anything but a pair of purple eyes. I took a step backward and lowered my wand.

“Asterin, please, you can’t be in the forest. It’s not safe for you.” I said with a gentle voice. I saw smoke coming out of her nostrils and that doesn’t mean anything good. If she breathes fire in the forest she can endanger the two Hungarian Horntails on the other side of it that just had their eggs hatched two weeks ago.

I knew I had to do something about it and get the dragon out. There was no time for panic or me chickening out.

Chicken! That’s it!

I tried not to show too much excitement not to startle the dragon.

“Asterin, I am just going to get something and I’ll be right back.” I took a few steps backward, looking her directly in the eyes before turning around and returning to the food supply hut.

If she doesn’t want to eat meat – especially the Hebridean Black favorite, deer – then maybe she has to have another preference.

I unlocked the door and went straight to the baby dragon section. Chicken blood and brandy. If she can’t eat solids, then maybe this will do the trick to get her back to her habitat!

“Asterin, I brought you something,” I whispered the second I knew I was getting close to where she was before. I carefully lifted my lit wand to spot her eyes – she didn’t move from where she was before I left.

“I think you’ll love this. It smells delicious!” I tried sounding cheerful and even though my heartbeat has slowed down, I was still a bit nervous.

I placed a huge bucket a few meters away from her and poured the contents of 2 bottles inside. I looked around and picked a large stick from the ground to mix the two and slowly backed away.

“Try it. I made this especially for you.” I grinned at the dragon whose nostrils stopped smoking and was now eyeing the bucket with curiosity.

“I promise it’s good and it will make you big and strong.” I sat down on the ground, patiently waiting for her to move.

Asterin let out a silent growl and took a cautious step toward the bucket. She sniffed the chicken blood and brandy and then locked eyes with me as if she was reading my face.

“It’s okay. It smells good, doesn’t it?” I couldn’t help but giggle. She was adorable even for her size. “Look, it’s safe to eat. I like it too!”

I opened a bottle of brandy and took a few sips. Even though I am not big on alcohol, especially brandy, I acted as if it’s the most delicious thing I have ever drunk.

Asterin was now looking at me with her head tilted to the side and waiting as if she expected me to drop dead on the ground.

“You have a lot of trust issues, don’t you?” I furrowed my brows. I wish I would know what happened to her so that I could plan to approach her in the right way.

After staring at me for 5 minutes, she sniffed the liquid in the bucket again and tasted the liquid with her tongue. I couldn’t believe how fast the bucket was empty. I got her to eat!

I stood up slowly and opened a bottle with chicken blood and the brandy I opened for myself before and started walking out of the forest making a trail of liquids. When I reached the edge of the forest I heard stomps behind me and a smile creased my face as I couldn’t believe my method worked.

Asterin was walking slowly and stopping every few steps to look around her and make sure she is not in danger. It broke my heart seeing her so frightened.

The first day a dragon is transported here, it usually sleeps and the next day starts exploring its habitat. It rarely happens that the dragon doesn’t feel comfortable with the amount of effort we put into the habitats and how strikingly they resemble the wild.

I have witnessed at least a dozen dragons coming here since I started working and I have never seen one so aware of its surroundings and with such a strong will to escape.

From the looks Matthew gave me every day before Asterin came here, I knew that handling this dragon won’t be a piece of cake but I was not prepared for this.

The second he told me that I will be in charge of a Hebridean Black I rushed home and started working on my strategy and read as many articles and facts about the breed. Of course, I knew all of it already but it eased my mind to refresh my memory.

Even though nervous, I was ready to start taming the dragon, to try and befriend her but her running away took me off guard. Asterin proved to me that she is not an ordinary dragon, not an ordinary Hebridean Black and that I will have to come up with a new plan to make her trust me before I visit her for breakfast in the morning.

After what seemed like 2 hours, Asterin finally came to the end of my chicken blood and brandy trail and curved up into a ball. I waited for her to close her eyes and for her breathing to steady so that I knew she was asleep before silently returning home.

It was 3 in the morning when I came back but I had no time to sleep. The first step in my training with Asterin has to be that she is comfortable with her surroundings and knows that she is safe. And I can’t waste any time sleeping when I can work out a plan.

Pacing up and down my kitchen for about an hour, I knew what I had to do. I also knew that my boss was going to kill me for it but there wasn’t another way.

It was clear that Asterin started gulping down the mixture when she saw me drinking the brandy. The gesture let her know that it was safe. So if I want to make her feel safe in her new home, she has to see that I am safe in it too.

It seems that she trusts me on the level to trust my judgment – at least to some degree – and if that is the only way I can make her see that she is okay here and that she has nothing to worry about then I have to be a bit mad and break a few rules.

I slept for one hour before my alarm clock woke me up and I hurried to get some clothes on me, quickly washed my teeth, skipped breakfast, going straight to Asterin.

She was already awake when I arrived with a fresh bucket of chicken blood and brandy. I took the biggest one I could find. It already takes a ridiculous amount of both to feed a baby dragon so I can’t imagine how much she needs so she can properly grow into the size she is supposed to be at her age.

At around one year a dragon should be halfway to its full size not looking like a Muggle minivan.

I placed the bucket a safe distance away from her and backed away to give her space to eat. She needed a moment to start sniffing the air and taking a step toward her breakfast but it was faster than yesterday so I was proud of her.

When she was done, she slammed the bucket into a nearby tree with her paw and sat down on the spot where the bucket was before.

“I’ll have to order more buckets, won’t I?” I chuckled and scratched my ear. “At least you ate. Was it good?” I dared to look her in the eyes and she replied with a huff.

I waited a minute more to see if she was going to move but as she decided to sit still as a statue, her claws deep in the ground again, it was time to test the idea I came up with when I got home last night.

I took a deep breath and hoped that this won’t get me fired. As I already said we only have 3 rules but if we break them, the consequences can be severe. I was aware that I could lose my job for this but if I prove myself right then I know what an approach I have to take.

I sat down on the ground a safe distance away from her and took off my gloves and the fireproof hat first. The dragon laid down with her head held high, waiting for my next move.

I took off all my body protective gear and sat down, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and trousers. I hugged my legs and rested my head on my knees, waiting for her response.

To my surprise, she lowered her head but her claws were still not relaxed, her eyes on me.

“Charles, what in the bloody hell are you doing?”

I wasn’t even surprised to hear Matthew’s angry voice. I knew that me taking off my gear was wrong and I was putting myself in danger.

“Please, Matthew, let me explain,” I said calmly, my eyes on Asterin who was now standing up and looked as if she was ready to run away again.

“Oh, you will explain. Why are you without your gear and why do you look like you only slept for an hour last night?” He looked down at me when he reached me, an angry expression on his face, waiting for my answer.

“Asterin ran into the forest last night and she didn’t want to eat anything, not even chicken blood and brandy until I drank some of the brandy. So I thought that since she is so frightened it might help her to see that if I am not protected and feel safe so can she.” I cleared my throat. “Oh, and I did in fact sleep only for one hour.” I finally took my eyes off the dragon and looked up at my boss.

“Is that why a supply is missing from the food hut and why the gate to the forest is broken?” Matthew looked puzzled. “Yes, I am sorry. I will order more food for baby dragons, on me if needed, I just wanted her to eat something and I will fix the fence right after I am finished here.” I smiled apologetically.

“Why would you feed a 1-year-old dragon blood and brandy anyway?”

“Well, you said that her teeth were damaged and that it might pain her if she chews so I tried the liquid diet,” I explained.

“And did she eat?” Matthew sounding impressed now looking from me to Asterin.

“After I drank some brandy in front of her.”

“Okay, we will order more if she’s willing to eat.” He nodded. “Is that what you gave her for breakfast too?”

“Yes, and she ate it all already.”

“We will need to ask the research team to find out how much of this she should get per day so she can grow.” Matthew sat down next to me, observing her behavior.

“Are her claws always this…”

“Tense?” Matthew nodded as I finished his sentence. “Yes. That’s why I broke the rules and took off my equipment. I am trying to prove to her that it’s safe here.”

“And here I was thinking you have lost your mind.” He let out a silent chuckle.

“Are you going to fire me?” I bowed my head.

“No, Charles. I trust that you know what you are doing. Just please inform me of any kind of recklessness you are going to try with Asterin before I have a heart attack thinking you have a death wish standing in a brown t-shirt in front of a Hebridean Black.” He winked at me.

“I will try. There was no time yesterday.”

“I understand. I will leave you to it then. Hopefully, you can make some progress in the next 14 days. She has to have her health examination with the healers then.”

“I will try my best.” I nodded and bestowed him with a small smile.

Matthew got up and put his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. Before he could walk away or take another glimpse at Asterin, she roared so loudly that it hurt my ears. She got up so abruptly that Matt stumbled backward and fell.

I got up and got closer to her to see if I can do some damage control as it looked as if she was going to scorch Matthew at any moment now.

“Hey, it’s okay. See, I am fine.” I tapped on the shoulder Matt did before. “He didn’t do anything to me. Matthew is okay, we can trust him, right?” I turned to my boss who looked horrified. He nodded, stood up, and dusted his equipment.

“Matt, take off your gear,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Take it off.”

“Are you mental? Why would I do that? She just tried attacking me.” Matthew frowned.

“We have to prove to her that you’re trustworthy.”

Matt sighed but obeyed me anyway. Asterin’s nostrils were blowing out smoke, her eyes on him.

“Here, see I am not here to harm you or Charlie.” He lifted his hands in defense, bowing his head a little.

“I told you he is on our side. You can calm down.” I turned to her, talking with a soothing voice.

Asterin laid back down and huffed the smoke out.

“Well, you’re doing something right that she’s protective of you.” Matthew sighed in relief that Asterin decided to keep him alive.

“I guess. I have to think of a way to approach her and to make her relax.” I pressed my lips together, thinking. “I didn’t think this was going to be so difficult.”

“You can still back out and let someone else try,” Matthew suggested.

“No, I can do it,” I said with determination in my voice. “I enjoy the challenge.” “I know you do, Charles.” Matthew smiled and walked away.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the weasleys #dragon boy #charles weasley #hebridean black #dragons #a dragon story #charie weasley hphm #dragonologist

25 notes · View notes

angel-tries-to-write · 3 years

Text

Bloody favor

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoë Word count: 3204 Genre: smut, fluff

When Hanji suffers from menstrual pain, there's only one person who can help them.

Sometimes Hanji joked, that if only they could do more experiments on Eren without hurting him, they would be able to get to know titans so well, they could predict the times they attack. Levi would always roll his eyes and say that it would be very convenient, yet very impossible as well, since the titans weren't much known for thinking, with the obvious exception for shifters. Unfortunately for him, the crazy scientist wasn't the type to give up on their theories, until proven wrong, besides that would be a wonderful ability, to predict the attack and being able to properly prepare for it. Hanji felt it on a personal level, knowing there is a certain pattern to their behavior would made all their lives and fight less stressful, and stress was the last thing they needed.

Their body was acting weird recently, it felt uncomfortable, heavy and tired all the time, their personality has changed as well, they always were impulsive and short tempered, but the past few days have proven that their patience was very short, to the point that when Nanaba joked that maybe they are pregnant, she barely dodged a particularly heavy book Hanji threw at her. Not that it was impossible, those hot nights with Levi might or might not had something to do with that, even if none of them would ever admit something was between them. But Hanji knew better, Nana's stupid joke didn't make them paranoid, but they actually connected the dots: it wasn't pregnancy, but upcoming period.

And obviously, obviously, this thing always comes unwanted. It seems to have this annoying ability of picking the worst timing ever, especially when you were busy. Hanji knew that very well, they lived for long enough to experience menstrual bleeding in various moments and places they neither expected it nor wanted. Super important and absorbing experiment? Check. Boring but mandatory meeting? Check. Long expedition that was supposed to gain valuable information? Check. First secret date with Levi? Of course. If Hanji only wanted and cared enough, they could make a very impressive list of all the places and moments they started bleeding out of nowhere. And they hated it with passion.

It seemed like, at this point, the only inconvenient situation when this condition hadn't started, was a battle with titans. Obviously, with Hanji's luck in this field, it was nearly undoubted that it was only a matter of time. Yet as usual, they weren't thinking about such things, when the titans attacked, they took their gear and rushed to the Wall with no hesitation. Even though they felt tired, overwhelmed, and they really didn't want to move, Hanji knew it was their duty as a soldier. So they fought, they fought with passion and rage no one ever expected from them. For the first time they didn't care about the experiments, information, any scientific knowledge, all they wanted was to defeat the titans and go to sleep.

At some point, when they slaughtered their way through another titan's neck, its steaming blood splattered onto their face, blinding them temporarily. Hanji swore under their breath, pushed the goggles up to see anything at least and headed to the wall for a quick break. Of course, titan blood evaporates eventually, but they didn't have time to wait until this happens, so they had to clean the goggles manually.

“Squad leader! Are you okay?” Moblit screamed, running in their direction, as Hanji took the goggles off their head, to properly wipe them.

“As okay as I can be in the middle of the battle, thank you” they answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You're bleeding, four eyes” this time Levi spoke, though his voice was perfectly calm in comparison to Moblit's.

“I don't have time to bleed. Tell me where, so I can ignore it” Hanji did their best to look at him angrily, but they couldn't even see his face, so it was a challenge.

“Your pants” he pointed out. Hanji looked down to see a pretty large crimson pool, staining their white pants. Perfect. They should have expected that. It would also explain the constant pain in their abdomen they were experiencing.

“Oh for fuck's sake, not now” they groaned. Hanji wasn't swearing often, only when they were really tired or angry. “Fuck it, I'll take care of this later.”

“Maybe you should—”

“Don't you fucking dare to tell me what I should, unless you have more experience with periods than I have, shorty!” they snapped at Levi, very efficiently making him shut up. He knew that angry Hanji was the scariest person in the world. Apparently Moblit didn't, so he opened his mouth, but Levi elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don't even try, you'll only make them angrier” he said quietly. Meanwhile Hanji finished cleaning their goggles and they could see again, so they rushed back to fight. But as they landed on a rooftop of one of the smaller buildings, they could hear another person landing behind. They knew these footsteps too well to not figure out who followed them.

“I swear, one comment and you're dead” they growled, certainly not in the mood for bickering and jokes.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, approaching his partner. Hanji could see concern in his usually cold eyes. At first they wanted to yell at him, but they knew it wasn't going to help anyone.

“Yes” they sighed, leaning against the wall of the nearby, taller building, massaging their stomach in hope of easing the cramps.

“What I was going to suggest was that maybe you should go back and take some rest. I know it's your duty to fight” he quickly added, before they could interrupt him. “But just like injured soldiers, you only cause risk for yourself and the others by not being in your best shape.”

“I'm not injured. It's nothing, I can fight” they protested. Levi stepped forward and pinned them against the wall.

“Your pain is blinding you. Don't you see? All you've been doing is flying around and slashing titans like a maniac. That's not you, Hanji” he said and they could easily tell he was scared.

“Then what do you think I'm supposed to do? Rest comfortably while my squad and friends are fighting, bleeding and dying? Guess what, I can fight and bleed and not die” they stated angrily.

“Alright, then I'm going to have to use the more drastic methods” he leaned in and kissed them. But Hanji was not having it, they pushed him away as fast as they could.

“Are you out of your mind?! Someone might see us!” they scolded him furiously.

“Let them see, I don't care. You need relief from pain. Then I'm at your service” he smirked suggestively and put his hand on their thigh. “My body is yours, all you have to do is to use it the way you desire” he offered, pointing at himself.

“Fuck you” they spat angrily, but their blush was an obvious evidence they loved this idea, just maybe not in this place and timing.

“Excellent answer, now come and do it yourself.”

“Later” they sighed defeated, knowing fully well they couldn't resist him for long. “Once we're finished here, we can discuss your generous offer” they gave him a quick kiss and used their ODM gear to get to the other side of the area. Luckily the battle was soon to be won, after that, when they took care of the wounded and dead, Hanji could finally rest. The insides of their thighs were stained with various shades of brown and red from dried and fresh blood, and their body hurt, so all they dreamed about was a bath, a massage and, oh yes, almost naked Levi waiting for them with an already prepared bath.

“Ah, finally, you decided to show up. I thought I'd have to go and drag your dirty ass here.”

“I don't deserve you” Hanji said quietly, their eyes filled with tears.

“Less talking, more undressing. There's a bucket with cold water we have to put your bloody clothes in” he approached them and started to help them get out of ODM straps, then clothes. “Why didn't you change? I imagine it must have been very uncomfortable to wear this for that long. What did I tell you about self care?” he asked while working on taking out all the straps.

“I know, I was going to, but there was so much to do and so many people to take care of, that I didn't have time to even think about myself” Hanji explained, unable to look him in the eyes, they felt like they failed him.

“You really have to learn to care about yourself, shitty glasses” Levi said, his tone was difficult to read, even though Hanji knew him so well.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to me. You did harm only to yourself” he said softly, kissing their neck. It tasted like sweat and dirt, which meant Hanji really needed that bath. He helped them undress completely, trying to be gentle. “Are you still in pain?”

“Yes. But I also want you so bad right now” they admitted, shamelessly staring at his chest. They were so close that they didn't even need glasses.

“Are you sure?” he asked, getting rid of his own remaining clothes. “I don't want to cause you more pain.”

“Really? That's what you care about?” Hanji raised their brow in confusion.

“What else should I?” he took a cloth, dipped it in water, kneeled for better view and started to clean all the blood on Hanji's thighs.

“Don't you think it's disgusting? And dirty?” they asked hesitantly. “Like... even more than a regular sex?”

“There's nothing that can't be cleaned later. Just like I do it now” he wiped dried blood off their skin, proving his point.

“Are you sure? I mean, cleaning is one thing, but sex?”

“Hanji... Don't make me say sappy shit” Levi sighed.

“Say it. I know you hate it, but maybe that's what I need right now” they leaned against the bathtub, to let him get a better access to their legs and crotch.

“Alright. But if you laugh, there will be consequences” he warned them. “I've heard once, that a true warrior is not afraid of a little blood on his sword, and I pretty much agree with this sentence. I don't like it, but I can handle it” he said with his eyes focused on Hanji's leg, too embarrassed to look up and meet their eyes.

“That's... disgustingly sweet.”

“Also ridiculous and pathetic.”

“Yeah. Don't do it again.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to. But what I mean is that if you need me, I don't care about anything but your comfort” Levi stated, putting the cloth in the bucket with cold water, with Hanji's pants and underwear. He sat back on his heels and looked up, waiting for their move.

“You look really hot right now. I love to see you on your knees” they smirked, biting their bottom lip.

“Oh, I can imagine. I like to see you in this position too” he replied, there was a spark in his eyes.

“I feel almost bad I won't be able to properly use this position” Hanji lowered themself onto his lap, straddling him, then wrapped their arms around his neck. “Almost” they whispered and kissed him. Levi returned the kiss with passion, one hand entangled in their messy hair, the other caressing their buttcheek. Hanji's hand slid down his chest and perfect abs, but hesitated and only barely brushed his hardening penis. “Are you sure you want it?” they asked, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes. Now touch me, Hanji” he growled and captured their lips in another hungry kiss. The timing was perfect, just when he did it, he could feel his partner's hand on his dick, which made him moan in their mouth. He squeezed their butt in response, but that made Hanji break the kiss.

“Just be gentle, alright? My body is quite sensitive and not in the nice way. Especially my boobs, try to avoid touching them, it hurts” they asked and Levi nodded in response.

“Anything you want” he promised quietly and leaned his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on pleasure they were giving him.

“Ass gripping is fine, besides you do it so well” Hanji purred, palming him for a while and waiting for their lover to tell them he's ready. Which he did, after a moment.

“I think that's enough. Do you want me to warm you up too?”

“Umm... no, you don't have to...”

“Hanji.”

“I...” they sighed, seeing his stare. “Yes, I do” they admitted.

“It's the first time I see you this shy and embarrassed. Even our first time wasn't this awkward” Levi noticed, his thumb found their clit almost immediately. Hanji gasped when he touched that little bundle of nerves. Period cramps made it difficult for them to actually feel the pleasure in its fullest, but their lover's magical hands were doing their job very well, making Hanji feel at least a little better.

“I wasn't bleeding during our first time. Neither I felt like shit” they explained, having difficulties with gathering their thoughts when Levi was touching them like that.

“Does it really matter that much to you? It's just some blood, no big deal” he peppered their jawline with kisses.

“We'll talk about it the next time it gets on your clothes” Hanji chuckled, but Levi pressed his hand harder, making them moan.

“Clothes are a different story. I don't happen to have any now, though” he noticed, tracing their skin with his fingers. “Besides, I don't mind getting dirty from time to time. As long as I'm with you” he confessed softly.

Hanji looked at him with these beautiful, big, brown eyes and pulled him in a passionate, breathtaking kiss, then pushed his hand away and connected their bodies by sliding themself on his cock. Both of them moaned into each other's mouth at the sensation. Levi pulled his lover closer, grabbing their thighs and ass firmly, to help them move with ease, once they were ready.

This act was quite different than their usual lovemaking, but also very familiar. Levi ignored his pleasure, focusing completely on giving all the control to Hanji. It was rare, usually the one who wanted domination had to fight for it, because both of them enjoyed being in control. Even when they felt like just leaning back and leaving most of the action to their partner, none of them liked to make it that easy. But this time he knew it was a necessity. Hanji needed relief and distraction from pain, not further discomfort, so he just had to let them do whatever they needed. It felt good for him too, so he didn't actually mind. And he obviously tried to help whenever they struggled with pace or angle. It was a quite weird, slightly uncomfortable and pretty awkward comfort sex, but no less sweet and loving than their usual intercourses. Slow pace might have felt less intense than rough and fast act, but it always allowed them to feel their bodies in a different way, to learn each other and to discover new sides of pleasure. They moved in slow, steady pace, even a little sloppy, their orgasms building up like glowing embers instead of burning flame and finally flooding them calmly like a lazy sea wave, instead of usual explosion. But they enjoyed it, that soft pleasure, so different, but still satisfying.

“You were right. I needed it” Hanji panted, hiding their face in a crook of Levi's neck.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, embracing his partner.

“Yeah. I don't feel pain for now” they answered with a small smile.

“Good. We can take a bath and go to sleep” he decided, kissing his lover's shoulder and caressing their butt and thighs. “Come on, you deserve to rest after that battle.”

“You too, captain” Hanji lazily slid off him. “That looks scary” they said, staring at his cock and lap, which were covered with their menstrual blood. Levi didn't say a word, he simply reached for the cloth he previously cleaned Hanji with and wiped himself, then his lover.

“There” he gave them a quick kiss. “Now get your pretty ass into the bathtub, or I'll throw you there myself.”

“You think I have a pretty ass?” Hanji echoed, surprised by his words.

“Of course I do, you have a lovely ass” he stood up with a little difficulty, his legs were getting numb because of this position.

“Your ass is lovely too” they smiled, standing up as well. It felt really tempting to annoy Levi further, but Hanji decided they're too tired for this and stepped into the bathtub as he told them.

After a quick bath, they both headed to Hanji's room. They tried to hide their relationship, but it was common among the veterans to seek comfort in someone else, it didn't necessarily mean they were dating. It became clear after one time, when all of them woke up in a giant pile in Erwin's room, after a particularly rough expedition. It was the day when the commander allowed to bend the rules for their all mental health. It turned out to be extremely helpful. Just when Levi and Hanji were sneaking through the hallway, they heard a scream. It was Nanaba. But before the couple could react, they heard Miche's voice and screaming stopped. She had a nightmare again and he had to calm her down, sometimes in a quite drastic way, like yelling at her first, because nothing else but shock would work, only then he could hug her, when she was aware what is real and what is not. Hanji and Levi exchanged pitying glances, on top of everything they all had been through, Nana had a terrible childhood. Levi knew exactly how she felt, he wasn't surprised she couldn't sleep well, though sharing a bed with someone else was really helpful. Usually she would come to Hanji or Moblit, but recently she started to sleep only with Miche and surprisingly, her nightmares became even less frequent and less intense. Just like Levi's insomnia eased a lot since he started to share bed with Hanji. No one questioned why or how it was working, it just was and everyone simply accepted it.

Finally they reached the room and crawled into the bed. Or at least they tried. Hanji just groaned as they collapsed ungracefully onto the mattress, too exhausted to even cover themself with a blanket. Levi had to do it for them, as he placed himself behind their back, to massage their stomach.

“You're the best, Levi” they whispered. “I don't know what would I do without you.”

“Go to sleep, Hanji” he kissed their neck and nestled himself comfortably. He didn't have to tell them twice, they dozed off a moment later. Levi looked at them for a while, before closing his own eyes. He hated to see them in pain, but he was slightly happier, knowing he could help them even a little.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #my fic #levihan #hanji zoë #levi ackerman #moblit berner

22 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 3 years

Text

Circling the Drain

Summary: It's a race against time...wait, why do people say that? It's not a race against some outside force, it's a race against a crazed back-from-the-dead mafioso with a vengeance.

Word Count: 3454

A/N: I tried something a little different for this chapter in terms of formatting, mainly because there was so much I wanted to fit in different POVS. Uhhhhh let me know your thoughts and like, comments and reblogs make my world go round. ALSO that second gif is exactly how I imagine a certain scene (you'll know it when you read it).

Warnings: Very torture heavy chapter. Blood, torture methods, guns, knives, kidnappings, talk of death. You should probably go pet some puppies or kittens after you read this.

Duncan

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed since Duncan was last outside of this small concrete room. There’s no windows to let light in, no clocks to denote the hour, and no sort of schedule that he can catch on to. Although, even if there were a schedule, he would be too delirious from sleep deprivation to realize that there was one. The only thing that Duncan can count on is the unending torture at the hands of his uncle.

All of the crisis training in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the physical and mental torture that he’s been put through. Though he doesn’t know it, it’s been almost seventy-two hours of this absolute hell, of Bill beating him black and blue, taunting him, slowly ripping out fingernails one by one (somehow, he still has six, though one of the six is just barely hanging on), refusing to let him sleep, and tasing him back to consciousness whenever he tries to close his eyes. This most recent time, the throbbing of his head had begged him enough to where he finally closed his eyes, only to be jolted up with a rush of electricity running through his body and seizing his muscles.

“You still think you’re getting out of it that easy, huh? That you can fall asleep and bide your time until you’re ‘rescued?’” Bill chuckles. “No, it’s not that easy.”

“Just kill me already, if that’s what you’re planning on,” Duncan says through clenched teeth, glaring up at Bill through the one eye that’s not completely swollen shut.

“Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” His obviously-fake concern would enough to make bile rise in Duncan’s throat, if he had actually had anything left in his stomach.

“You want me to beg for it, don’t you?”

“I guess I underestimated you. Turns out you do have some sort of critical thinking skills.”

Duncan defiantly turns his head, refusing to give Bill what he wants. Realizing this, Bill begins to walk towards the door. As he does, going to flick off the single light bulb in this place, Duncan’s chest tightens in anticipation of the claustrophobia he’ll surely begin to feel (most likely a side-effect of what he’s gone through, considering he’s never been scared of dark spaces before) and he scrambles to stall him. “So why are you keeping me alive?”

Bill stops for a moment before slowly turning around. “I already told you.”

“No, I know that you want revenge. But what’s your plan? Why waste your time? Surely you’ll at least give me the honor of knowing what I’m dying for?”

His jaw clenches, not pleased with that last question, but he doesn’t hit Duncan. Yet. “I’m taking back what’s mine, and then some.”

“And you think Mom’s going to be okay with that?”

“Your poor mother is going to be more than okay with that when she finds out that the Coven killed her only child.”

Slowly, it dawns on Duncan. “You’re the one that’s been killing people in the Coven’s style and leaving them in our territory?”

“Of course I am!” Bill holds his arms out as if to say ‘tah-dah!’ “Cordelia Goode would never be so bold as to do that! But after I kill you, drain you of your blood, cut your tongue out, dump you in the Potomac, and reappear into society, people won’t care about that little fact. Especially after I reveal that it was the Coven that prompted me to fake my own death and go into hiding for years.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“About a year before you stabbed me, when I realized that you were far too…” he grits his teeth, “charismatic to not end up with the family business eventually. That’s why I always made sure that the police and paramedics were well-paid, just in case the day ever came that I needed them to lie on my behalf.”

“You have it all planned then, so why not just do it and kill me now?”

“Well, there are a couple of minor issues I still need to work out.” Bill glances at Duncan slyly. “Such as what to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

In a flash, Duncan sees red. He lunges, forgetting the fact that he’s chained to the radiator and can only go so far until his ankle is jerked violently and he falls back to the ground. “You leave her alone, she’s done nothing wrong!”

“You’re right, she hasn’t, but (Y/N) knows too much.”

Duncan’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Bill (predictably) knows more than he should.

“I’m thinking a suicide? It’s very believable, what with the grieving girlfriend and all.” Bill steps forward and, ever so slowly, places his foot on one of Duncan’s hands. “Maybe she slits her wrists in the bath? It’s very easy to overpower someone when they’re vulnerable. Or perhaps she overdoses? That’s not my preferred method, though, far too much room for someone to survive an overdose. Tell me, Duncan, how would you prefer that she die?” With each possible method, Bill continues to lay more pressure on Duncan’s hand until Duncan is moaning in pain.

“Don’t...hurt her,” Duncan pants.

Bill finally removes his foot, giving Duncan a moment to breathe before he stomps on his hand, digging the toe of his shoe in until Duncan is screaming and Bill is sure his hand is broken. “I think she’ll jump into the Potomac with a weight tied around her ankle. The poeticism--her drowning in the same river that your body will be found in--is something that’s just too good to pass up.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you again and make sure that it sticks this time.” Tears are streaming down Duncan’s face, though whether that’s from the physical or emotional agony he’s in, he can’t be sure.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bill smiles, walking to the light switch and flicking it off. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then our final act can finally begin.”

This time, Duncan doesn’t stop him before he leaves, barely letting the door close before his willpower crumbles and he begins to sob. Cradling his injured hand, he has to force himself to look at the now-mangled fingers. He gasps, attempting to straighten them out, but they refuse to even twitch in response. It’s now that Duncan realizes that the true torture is waiting. His mind and body shattered, he now has to be at the mercy of Bill Shepherd before he can finally die. He’s never wished for death before, but now, he feels a pang in his heart for every one of his victims that have had to wait, broken and bruised, for Duncan to kill them.

You

“Does this location have any significance to you?” Cordelia asks Annette, pointing to an address hastily written down on a scrap of paper. The address corresponds to a building, fairly nondescript, but obviously holding some sort of significance.

“No, it doesn’t.” Annette shakes her head.

“That’s because this is the location of the first school that I opened here in D.C. Bastard’s really going all in on trying to frame me for everything he’s done.”

(Y/N), who had previously been dozing off on Langdon’s lap (Langdon had already made her swear not to tell anybody or else he would kill her in her dreams like Freddy Kreuger), sits straight up at this moment. “What makes you think he’s there?” she asks.

“This car.” Cordelia pulls another paper out from the folder she had brought with her, this one a picture of a Mercedes E-Class. “It’s been back and forth from Umbra to the old school numerous times in the past two days. License plates are registered back to Umbra.”

“So it’s definitely Bill, then.”

“I’m not typically a betting woman, but I would put money on this. Surveillance indicates that this car has been parked in front of the Goode Academy for six straight hours now.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know much about hostage situations, but she has to assume that Bill being where Duncan is held captive for an extended amount of time means nothing good.

“We need to move now, then,” Annette says. There’s no question behind her voice; she’s going to get her son.

“Yes. Your team?”

“Myself, Langdon, and (Y/N).”

Cordelia glances warily at (Y/N). “Do you have combat experience?”

“Duncan trained me to fight, and also did some weapons training with me,” (Y/N) says.

“That’s good enough.” (Y/N) tries not to be offended. “I have myself, Madison, Misty, and Mallory.”

“We’re going?” Mallory, a brunette wearing a gold headband, says.

“I need my best girls, and you three have proven yourselves.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Annette grabs a key from around her neck and unlocks what you thought to be a closet door, opening it to reveal a weapons cache large enough to rival a small government’s. “Stock up.”

“Which gun are you most comfortable with?” Langdon asks (Y/N), the two standing side-by-side after everybody else has had their turn.

“Uh, I don’t really know the names. It’s a handgun, and it’s black.”

“Probably a Springfield, then.” Langdon hands (Y/N) a gun that looks similar to ones that she’s handled before. “It’s already loaded.”

“Thanks.” She glances at Langdon after holstering her own weapon, watching as he selects numerous guns of different sizes. “What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be.”

“But you heard what Cordelia said. Bill’s been there for six straight hours now. He could have--”

“You’re right, he could have,” Langdon interrupts. “But we can’t go in there assuming that the worst outcome has come true. We have to have hope. If nothing else, there’s always hope.”

“I have hope.”

“Good, because I do, too.” Langdon grabs a knife from the weapons closet, twirling the tip of the blade on his index finger. “Now let’s go get Duncan back.”

Duncan

Bill stands before Duncan, twirling the tip of a knife on his index finger. “I’ve held onto this for six years now. Do you recognize it?”

Of course Duncan recognizes the knife that he stabbed his uncle with. In his dreams, he can still feel the cool leather handle gripped tightly in his palm.

“It’s something of a treasure to me, although it certainly didn’t seem like it at first. I’ve come to recognize the significance of holding the thing that almost killed me, and I like to keep it as a reminder.” Bill holds the knife out to Duncan, knowing he’s too weak to fight him for it. “See that on the blade? Why don’t you read it for me?”

Cursive lettering is engraved on the blade, though it was not there when the knife had been in Duncan’s possession. “Memento mori,” Duncan mutters, trying to remember his Latin lessons from high school.

“It was an extremely popular phrase during the medieval period, specifically when it came to funerals. ‘Remember you must die.’ It’s a warning, a reminder. That’s what this knife has become to me, a reminder of the inevitability of death. It also reminds me that I’ve survived death before, and I’ll surely survive it again.”

“Quite the sense of humor,” Duncan remarks dryly.

Bill shrugs, bending down to Duncan’s level. “A little gauche, perhaps, but I enjoy the significance of the phrase.”

Duncan’s about to ask him what the point of this is when Bill shows him by shoving the knife into his abdomen. Duncan grunts in pain, gritting his teeth and glaring at him. “Of course you’re going to stab me just like I stabbed you.”

“Do you know how I managed to survive?” Bill asks.

“I’ve tried not to think about it much.”

“I survived,” Bill continues, “because you were too stupid to realize that you needed to pull the knife out. What do all of the medical professionals say when training civilians on dealing with stabbings? ‘Don’t remove the weapon.’ That’s the only thing keeping them from bleeding out, and it’s what kept me from bleeding out.”

“I had assumed I severed your abdominal aorta, what with all the blood.”

“Exactly, ‘assumed.’” Bill digs the knife around to watch the way that Duncan tries not to scream before pulling it out and watching as blood begins to pour out of the wound. For every beat of Duncan’s frantic heart, trying to pump blood to the source of the injury in an attempt to clot it, more blood pulses out. “Never assume things, my boy.”

Though his head is starting to spin, Duncan finds just enough rage to spit at Bill. “Go to hell.”

“From the looks of it, you’ll be there long before me,” he says almost gleefully before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the thigh. This time, Duncan openly screams. “Just wanted to make sure you actually die, if the stabbing wasn’t enough.” Bill’s extremely nonchalant, as if he’s discussing the nuances of the Nationals rather than talking about murder.

Bill grabs a key and unlocks the chain from around Duncan’s leg, knowing that he won’t have the strength to escape. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

“Fuck you,” Duncan responds, but Bill’s already gone.

Duncan moans in pain as he stares at his wounds, feeling the stickiness of blood beginning to pool under him. Lifting a shaky hand, he presses it to his abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. As he swallows deeply, realizing that he very likely is going to die shortly, he thinks about a number of things, mainly regrets.

He wishes that he had realized earlier that his mom was just as much Bill’s victim as he was.

He wishes that he appreciated Michael more for the brother he had been to him.

He wishes that he had told (Y/N) that he loved her more often.

But most especially, Duncan wishes that he had just put a bullet in Bill’s head that night instead of stabbing him. Then, he wouldn’t be feeling this intense cold begin to settle in his bones as he’s forced to slowly die on the concrete floor of a basement. Facing the Grim Reaper head-on is not nearly as dramatic as he thought it would be.

You

Watching the Coven, Langdon, and Annette taking out the defectors is not nearly as dramatic as (Y/N) thought it would be. Wisely, they had requested that she stay behind until the perimeter was secured. It’s much quieter, and a lot less bloody; as it turns out, members of organized crime do have consciences, and chose to subdue those not directly a threat. After Langdon finishes tying those who had remained loyal to Bill together, Cordelia motions for (Y/N) to follow the group into the old school.

The proud sign that once declared this building the Goode Academy now lies in the dirt of the overgrown lawn. The doors are open, solely because the rusted hinges make it impossible for them to remain closed against a gentle breeze. The further that they make it inside, the more frantic (Y/N) is. She knows that they’re close to Duncan, she just doesn’t know what state they’ll find Duncan in. Before they can make it too far with Cordelia as their guide, Bill appears. Instead of holding a machine gun, which is kind of what (Y/N) had expected, he has a concerned look on his face.

“Annette, thank god you’re here! I know this must be confusing to you, but when I heard that Duncan was missing, I knew that I needed to save him from the bitches that had sent me into hiding years ago.”

Confusion blankets (Y/N)’s mind as she tries to figure out what’s going on, but Annette doesn’t feel the same. “Cut the shit, Bill. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Bill laughs. “You’re going to let Cordelia Goode manipulate you into believing her, after she tried to kill me?”

“You’re an idiot. You think I don’t smell the blood in the air?” Annette laughs viciously, a verbal slap in the face. “Where’s my son?”

Like a switch was flipped, the worry on Bill’s face falls into contempt. “You’ve always been too emotional for your own good, Annette.”

“‘Family over everything,’” Annette quotes. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

“That died the day that that--that mistake came back from boarding school and decided that our business, the empire we built from the ground up, was his birthright.”

“You never were good at sharing, were you?”

The siblings stare at each other for a moment before Bill sighs. “You could have just been complicit, but no. Guess I’ll have to think on the fly, then.” He pulls out a gun and cocks the hammer back.

Before he can fire, Madison and Mallory appear from behind him, having snuck into the back. Madison knocks the gun out of his hand, the weapon firing into the ceiling, as Mallory socks him in the face and drives him to his knees. Both women force his hands behind him, holding him still as Cordelia walks up to him.

“The door to the basement is in the kitchen, hidden behind the left wall of the pantry,” Cordelia says to the group.

(Y/N)’s off, moving as fast as she can while maneuvering through the unfamiliar house. “Wait, you can’t do this. Annette, you aren’t really going to let the Coven, of all people, do this to me?” Bill pleads.

“I can actually, and I will. After all,” Annette turns to Cordelia, “we have a deal.”

In the kitchen, (Y/N) throws open the pantry door, pushing and shoving and pulling at the left wall before it finally opens to reveal a set of stairs.

“Girls?” Annette calls just before she reaches the door. “Make it painful.”

(Y/N) runs down the stairs, hands scrambling along the wall until she comes across a light switch. Flicking it on, her eyes look around the room until she sees a lifeless figure on the floor that’s surrounded by a pool of blood. A cry is ripped from her chest as she falls to her knees beside Duncan, hands hovering above him as she tries to figure out what to do first.

He’s pale, scarily so, and he’s breathing so shallowly that she can’t tell he’s breathing at first. Somehow, with all the blood, he’s still breathing. All (Y/N) can focus on is the fact that he’s still alive (later, she’ll wonder how she didn’t even flinch at all of the injuries and the blood, oh, the blood) as she rips her shirt off and presses it firmly against the wound on his stomach, calling his name over and over again in increasing levels of desperation.

From behind her, she can hear Annette scream and yell for Langdon to call an ambulance. She can feel the presence of somebody next to her as they catalogue where Duncan’s hurt, but she can’t bring herself to look away from Duncan’s face. His perfect face, that she’s kissed over and over a thousand times and has taken immense pleasure in watching a blush rise to the surface. His perfect face that she’s now slapping to try and get him to at least show some sort of response.

“You don’t get to die like this,” she tells him, hoping that he’ll somehow manage to hear her. “You said that you didn’t want to be the reason I suffered, but look at you now, making me suffer. Don’t keep me suffering like this!”

Slowly, and just barely, his eyes crack open just enough that (Y/N) can see a hint of blue. His lips move, saying something without audible sound, and she brings her head down to his to try and catch what he’s saying.

“An angel.” She finally makes out what his reverent whisper is over the wail of the incoming ambulances, and laughs brokenly as her head falls onto his chest in relief.

@sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @ajokeformur-ray @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @michaellangdon @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonslove @born-on-stgeorges-day @xavierplympton @michaelsapostle @venusxxlangdon @wroteclassicaly @idespac @tcc-gizmachine @dyns33 @hexqueensupreme @hecatemacbeth7 @youngandfleeting @lambofcairo @myluciferiscody @anacerta @ladyren33 @ladyrindt @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakewaterxx @9layerdevilfoodcake @angelicmichael @takingback-thecrown @etherealsxnder

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #michael langdon #ahs imagine #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #hoc #hoc imagine #house of cards #house of cards imagine

89 notes · View notes

hiddennerdworld · 3 years

Text

When You’re Close to Me w/ Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings: some tears from characters, but still just a bunch of fluff

A/N: I love this song so much. (Go listen to it now). I feel like I didn’t do it justice but whatever. This has been in my drafts forever. Idk how it turned out but here we go. Also ik it’s kinda long, don’t come after me lmao

Are you here with me? Just looking out on the day of another dream

Bakugou just started to stir awake, the sun slowly starting to beam in the window. His blurry vision came to focus on the digital clock next to him that said 5:45 AM. He sighed and flopped his spiky head back onto his pillow. He opened his eyes again slightly as he turned to face his partner next to him. God, he still can’t believe how lucky he is. Every morning he gets a little wave of relief when he sees you by his side. He’s got a little smile on his face as he holds back from just cupping your cheek and pecking you on the forehead to tell you how much he loves you. But he thinks you’re so cute and peaceful when you sleep and knows you need rest otherwise you’ll be a little brat. Instead he wraps his arm around you, closes his eyes, and hopes he falls back asleep as his mind still focuses on you.

Well, you can’t get what you want, but you can get me. So let’s set out to sea.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby. I couldn’t get out of it. They needed all the help they could get.” Bakugou pleaded to you while holding your hands in his. It was your 3 year anniversary and he had to cancel your plans for the evening due to a villain attack downtown.

You sniffled and looked towards the ground, limply holding his hands back. “I understand. I knew what this was going to be like, being with a hero. It’s just hard sometimes you know? I miss the days where we would spend all day together. We would go to class together, eat lunch together, visit each other’s dorms whenever we wanted. I miss you, Katsuki.”

He pulled you into a hug where he ran his hand through your hair as you buried your face into his chest. “I know. I miss you so much. Being a hero is amazing, but it’s damn exhausting, especially not having you there with me. I love you, Y/N.” He said softly as he kissed the top of your head and then rested his chin on it.

“I love you too, ‘Suki. We’ll figure things out.”

“Of course, we will. We always do. You and I are a pretty kickass team if I do say so myself.”

“Huh, you really think so?” You looked up to meet his gaze. He just nodded and hummed in reply. “Well, I do too.” You then pulled him into a sweet kiss. Something you guys had done a thousand times, but it still brought butterflies to your stomach every time. You guys remained in each other’s arms for a bit longer, just swaying slightly despite the quiet.

“You know, I may have a way to bring back the old days.” Bakugou said breaking the silence.

You looked up at him. “Oh yea? Do tell, pretty boy.”

“Well..” he cleared his throat and continued in a low tone, “I was thinking maybe we could move in together. Like when we lived in the dorms, but with no Aizawa on our backs. It’s not perfect but at least I’ll get to see my beautiful idiot more often” You thought for a few seconds just staring into space. “Nevermind, it was stu-“.

“It’s perfect.” You kissed him again. “I would love that, babe.”

“Tch- well yea, of course you would it was a great idea.” He said with a shit-eating grin on his face after getting an ego boost from you agreeing with him. You just rolled your eyes back. “I would too, though.”

Cause you are my medicine when you’re close to me. When you’re close to me

Katsuki had no idea where he was. He was lying down on a bed, staring at the stark white ceiling as his vision began to clear. When he finally regained consciousness, he jolted up realizing he didn’t know was was going on. Then, you got up from your chair that was beside him in order to calm him down. He suddenly felt a sharp pain on his side. He winced and quickly put his hand on the wound.

“Oof, honey. I was trying to prevent you from doing that. Are you okay?” You said as you softly rubbed his arm.

He listened and lied back facing toward you this time. In a low, gruff voice he responded, “Yeah, I’m fine. Where the hell are we?”

“We’re in Recovery Girl’s office. After training today you ended up getting pretty beat up and passing out.”

It was all coming back to him. It was him versus Deku. One of their last days at UA and everyone was going all out. The two were moving quickly, jumping around each other trying to dodge and land hits. Eventually they started to wear down, but you know them, they will never stop. So after a while, Midoriya was able to use a little more than 10% of One for All, causing Bakugou to crash into a wall and fall to the ground. It wasn’t over yet though. He stumbled back up while doing his signature yelling. He was setting off explosions to fly up to his opponent and land a huge hit, but midway he just passed out and ended up falling on the concrete.

“Oh, yea I remember now. THAT FUCKING DEKU!! I’M GONNA MAKE HIM PAY!!” He yelled while trying to get out of bed. You then had to get up and set him back down.

“No, no, no. Katsuki, you can’t do anything right now. You need to just relax.” You said softly while pushing him back down by his shoulders.

“But I can’t lose to him! No fucking way!” He was still attempting to get up.

“You have to let it go, Suki.” You sat back down next to him and held his hands in yours. “I understand you wanting to get even, but you can’t right now. You’ve already gone way too far today.” You take a deep breath and continue, “You’ve been worrying me. Recently you’ve exhausted yourself so many times just in training alone. I get we’re close to graduating, but you need to relax, take it easy. Exerting so much energy in an emergency, I understand, but you’re just fighting ‘stupid’ Deku. You’re not going to be doing much hero work if you’re always in the hospital.” You sighed and put your head down, “I’m sorry, Suki. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

He knew what you meant. A couple months ago you were also injured badly and had to stay in the hospital for a few days after fighting a tough villain during your internship. He could barely take it. He couldn’t do anything except be by your side. All he wanted was to see you back to being the badass you usually are.

He sat up and rubbed his thumbs on your knuckles as you continued to hold hands. “Don’t worry about me, dumbass,” he said at almost a whisper, showing how ‘dumbass’ is just his way of saying he loves you. “I can take care of myself just fine…. But as much as I hate to admit it, I know you’re right.” He said with a smug grin which didn’t go away after you hit his shoulder. “Jeez, babe I’m just kidding. Point is you’re right. I can’t just go in ready to kill some people. I need to be smart about it. I need to be able to prove myself.”

“But you already have proven yourself. In more ways than one. You can show how great you are using methods that aren’t beating the shit out of Izuku, you know?”

“But those ways aren’t as fun.” You ended up slapping him on the shoulder again as he almost died laughing.

“Can you just promise me that you won’t end up in the nurses office again?”

“Alright, I’ll try my best.” He pulled you over and gave you a kiss on the forehead, “Thanks for putting up with me. I love you.”

“I love you too, even though you give me migraines.”

And surprisingly Bakugou kept up his promise, saving himself a whole lot of pain and saving yourself a whole lot of stress.

Just looking out for the day when you’re close to me.

The heat was rising as the your second year of UA was coming to a close. For the last half of the year Bakugou was slowly accepting his feelings for you and couldn’t hold back any longer. Somehow he tolerated you more than all the other extras. Hell, he even liked spending time with you and would go out of his way to do so. He didn’t want to spend the summer without you, but he didn’t know how to approach the situation. He couldn’t risk looking soft, but then again he “doesn’t care” what other extras think. It was a position he’d never been in before and he didn’t know how to handle it.

You were in the same boat. You may have had crushes before, but not like this, and definitely not like Bakugou. It didn’t take much to notice that he was somewhat nicer to you. He did schoolwork with you and didn’t smack you upside the head. He started choosing you as his partner more often in training. And never exploded when he got he annoyed with you. Maybe he was just nice to you because you were nice to him? You didn’t want to take things the wrong way and upset him. He was so predictably unpredictable. A literal ticking bomb, but somehow he was a lovable one.

The two of you were becoming unbearable. Your friends had all been planning to get together before summer break anyway, so they decided to do some meddling.

You had just joined the Bakusquad in the common room waiting to have some fun. You and Bakugou were sitting next to each other on the couch while Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima all were chilling on the floor around the coffee table. Meanwhile, Mina was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh! Where the hell is stupid Pinkie?! I wanna get this shit over with?”

“We love you too, Kacchan.” Kaminari replies and you can head Bakugou growl next to you and you try not to laugh. “I’m sure she’ll be here any sec. She had to grab something for the super special thing she planned.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows and Bakugou just rolled his eyes. Kirishima then kicked Kaminari and whisper-yelled “Dude!” Then he turned back to you guys and said with a nervous smile, “What he means is that Mina wanted this to be the perfect hang out before we have to go back home, so she has some stuff for us.”

“I sure do!” Mina yelled as she burst in the room with her arms up.

“tch- finally” Bakugou mumbled under his breath.

“We just gotta set up and then we can do the super special thing. Sero and Kirishima wanna help me grab some stuff from the kitchen? And then the rest of you can you check to make sure we have enough room in my dorm? Great!” She gave no one time to respond and everyone just got up and followed suit.

“Wait can I use the bathroom first?! I totally gotta take a whiz!” Kaminari whined.

“Yea, just hurry up! I wouldn’t want you to miss anything! Y/N and Bakugou we’ll all meet you up there in a sec!”

Sero, Kirishima, and Mina shuffled into the kitchen while Human Pikachu bolted (lol) to the bathroom. You and Bakugou weren’t as frantic as the others but you still went with it.

When you both arrived you found Mina’s room to be totally clean. “OI, PINKIE YOU’RE RO-!” Bakugou was on the way his way out but then you saw a flash of yellow and the door slamming on Bakugou’s face.

“What the-?” Bakugou tried to turned the handle but it didn’t budge. “I SWEAR IF YOUR PLAN WAS TO PRANK US IM GONNA BURN YOUR DUMBASSES ALL TO HELL!! NOW LET US OUT!!” He banged on the door, still attempting to get out, but all he heard back was some snickers and the sound of something being put in front of the door. The Pomeranian, now angered, was still aimlessly attacking the door until he heard you sigh and flop on the bed.

Sprawled out with your hands covering your face you muttered, “Ugh, I’m sorry.”

Bakugou stopped and turned around to face you being the most confused you’ve ever seen him, “Wait... you knew about this!” He started stomping over.

You quickly sat up anticipating something to happen. “No, no I didn’t. I just.. I think I know what this is about. I think this is all because of something I said to Mina.”

You move your eyes around the room afraid to make contact with the ruby eyes of the man standing above you.

“And what’s that?”

You sigh and fidget with your fingers, “Well, I may as well say it because I don’t think we’ll get out of here otherwise. I like you, Bakugou. I have for a bit now and didn’t know what to do. So I asked Mina, and this is definitely not how I wanted to handle it so I’m sorry and-“ you were interrupted by Bakugou tilting your head up which was staring at the floor while you rambled. He quickly leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You sat there wide-eyed. Not that it wasn’t good (it was), you were just thinking holy shit, my crush is on my face right now.

“Shit, I’m sorry I should’ve asked first. I just wanted to stop you because you don’t need to apologize. And I’m pretty sure you know this now but I like you too I guess. I don’t find you as annoying as I probably should. I haven’t for a while now.” He now was stood back up with a blush spread across his face and his one hand in this pocket with the other one rubbing the back of his neck. You stand up next to him and place your arms on his shoulders.

You giggle and say, “It’s okay. I enjoyed it. I was just surprised because I didn’t expect it from you. I actually think we should do it again.”

“Really?” He looked up as you nodded in response while biting your lip. You both then leaned in and kissed each other once more. It was definitely not as awkward as the first one. The kiss was sweet and passionate. When Bakugou feels something, he feels it wholeheartedly and it was evident in the way he was kissing you. He treated you as if you were an illusion that could shatter at any moment and he wasn’t going to take any of his time with you for granted.

You were suddenly interrupted by a loud banging on the door, “YOU LOVEBIRDS DONE IN THERE YET?!!! I ACTUALLY WANTED TO DO STUFF TONIGHT!!” Mina yelled through the door.

When you’re close to me

Bakugou woke up again but this time due to you booping his nose. “Good morning, Sunshine.” You whispered as you placed a kiss where had previously booped him. He just groaned and looked over to see the clock reading 8:30 AM. When he looked back your head was on his chest while you held onto him. He smiled a bit and pulled you in closer.

“Can we just stay like this all day, babe?” He said with his cheek pressed on the top of your head.

“Did I hear that correctly? Katsuki Bakugou said he wanted to stay in bed?! I must be dreaming still.”

“Tch, you’re such an idiot.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss onto the top of your head. “I love you though, you know that right?”

“Enough to help me make us some breakfast in bed?” You looked up at him with puppy eyes. He just sighed loudly and started to dramatically get out of bed. You soon followed and caught up to give him a hug as he grabbed stuff from the fridge. “I love you too, ‘Suki.”

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #mha fluff

23 notes · View notes

bangchanswolfpelt · 3 years

Note

you are so fucking sick writing about incest, I used to like your blog but...im not even kink shaming, incest is immoral. I was actually shaking and crying. I have blocked all the incest tags. fuck you. you're a monster. do you even care how many people are traumatised by incest? I'm not, but I've never had healthy family dynamics. I would like to have siblings, it would be nice because then maybe I wouldnt be so lonely but I had to see this sick twisted shit. I hope you get help, its so horribly wrong to sexualise family. you are revolting. I hardly ever send hate anons but im sorry to you and myself, I had to break this rule because this infuriated me, I was in tears and I was scared. at least, thank you for tagging but whats better is if you didn't write it

i am not going to be using the word ‘triggered’ to describe your experience, because you did not use it which leads me to believe that you don’t consider that to be the appropriate descriptor for your experience. if you are prone to being this disturbed by content that you read, it is your responsibility before anyone else's to keep yourself safe—that means making the extra effort of blocking tags and checking people's navigation posts and masterlists. considering you said yourself that you have incest tags blocked, you also clearly know that. i do my best to be courteous and tag things people need to be tagged so people can feel welcome and keep themselves safe on my blog, and so that people who need to can make the decision to block me—my pinned navigation post has a clear list of things that i tag, and i tag all of my posts about incest. this means that you must have ignored your own filters to expose yourself to it. instead of using the filters that you are aware of and have access to, instead of blocking me when you realized you did not want anything to do with my content or my blog, you made the deliberate choice to expose yourself to something you knew would upset you, then when you were predictably upset, you decided to blame me and come into my space to take it out on me.

looking at the language you're using, you're clearly not trying to accomplish anything meaningful. you aren't here to discuss anything, you aren't here to ask about or suggest any practical, useful methods of harm prevention, you aren't even bringing up any actual harm except for your completely preventable distress; you are using loaded, emotional language to try and be hurtful, and you are trying to act as though you're morally superior for doing so. as someone who admits that you are not yourself a survivor of incestuous abuse, you are making a lot of assumptions about people who are, and how their trauma and their needs work. you are acting as though they are a monolith with all the same responses to trauma and all the same needs, as opposed to a group of people who all have different experiences and different ways of coping. you are also, quite frankly, making a lot of assumptions about me with that statement. all of this makes it incredibly fucking clear that this is not about how much you care about survivors, you're just using them as an excuse for your temper tantrum. survivors do not need you to fucking white knight for them, and even if any wanted your help, you clearly don't have any interest in doing the research to find out what effective help would actually look like.

i'm not even going to get into the way that immorality in fiction and art has always been important and useful, or the way that online fandom has been increasingly treating Western views on morality as the absolute standard to the point of open, vitriolic xenophobia. it's incredibly clear that that would only go over your head, and you honestly aren't even worth the time it would take for me to go into that.

i don’t feel bad for you, and i am not going to accept any fucking responsibility for your feelings, not when you came to my blog, ignored warnings and content tags, and had a bad fuckin time because of your own negligence, and not when you clearly can’t take the time to cool down, take care of yourself and take responsibility for yourself, and evaluate what the appropriate response to those feelings is. i am not going to accept responsibility for a complete stranger on the internet, especially not one who steps into my space thinking that they can harass me into doing what they want. you think that you can use shame and guilt to force people to do what you want them to do; you’re a bully and you’re not even a very good one.

you can try all you want to pretend that you have the moral high ground here, but it's very clear you know that you don’t—if you actually believed that, you wouldn’t be trying to make yourself sound kinder and more reasonable than you actually are by forcing sentiments like “I hope you get help” and “I hardly ever send hate” and insincere apologies into the same message as “you are so fucking sick”, “you’re a monster”, and “you are revolting.” it doesn’t matter if you "hardly ever" send hate—you still definitely fucking did it, my dude, and that still makes you a bully who spends their time being cruel to strangers regardless of how sorry you say you are. the best part of this is that i know you know that about yourself and you have to live with that while i'm going to keep writing things that i (and other people) enjoy and you're not going to be anything more to me than a funny joke that gets tossed around my apartment for a few weeks.

if i receive any more messages along these lines, they will be reported and blocked. i responded to this one because it was a fun novelty, and because i am sick and cranky and it gave me a good excuse to be kind of a bitch; i am not going to wait for the shine to wear off when i can better spend my time writing about puppy boys and kitty girls and brother fucking and questionably consensual somnophilia.

#cw incest #cw incest mention #cw anon hate #mail corner 📬#love letters💌

12 notes · View notes

fuzziemutt · 3 years

Text

Do You Understand ?

Chapter 8/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: One more apology to go...

tw: unhealthy thinking. This one is also much lighter than the previous.

Connor took a deep breath. His coin flicked back and forth, leg bouncing methodically, body thrumming with an added anxious energy he wasn’t expecting to feel. He was just going to talk to Hank, Hank would... understand. Sure the old man got upset when Connor did anything “stupid” (or died) but everything would be fine.

He was in an automated taxi making its way to the Ambassador Bridge where, on a whim, he messaged Hank he would meet up with him in two hours. The meeting with the leaders was just yesterday and it spurred him to fix things with Hank while he still felt (brave) optimal enough to do so. Nines wasn’t with him this time; he thought of asking him to join, but Connor felt this was too personal and had to do it on his own. He really hoped he didn’t regret this.

Arguably, this really wasn’t a good time to do this. Connor warily glanced out the window for the 50th time, watching the way the snow piled ever higher with the clouds threatening to release more of the terrible substance. Usually he was able to keep his stress levels relatively low, low being closer to 50 than 20 if he was honest, ever since the snow started up again roughly a month ago. However, today’s weather with the meeting from yesterday, the looming anniversary of his second deployment, and now his self assigned meet up with Hank didn’t help how nervous he felt about this all. He should have asked to meet at Hank’s house, but he felt that was crossing an invisible boundary even if he still kept Hank’s house key on him at all times.

But he had to do this now as he knew he would go back to hiding if he didn’t, so he just kept pushing the fridgid memories down.

Before long, the taxi rolled to a stop, perfectly parked, uncaring of the android who needed another minute of breathing and rapid coin flicks till he climbed out. Hank wasn’t there yet, but Connor pushed down the spike of panic. The roads were still being cleared from the morning snow, it was fine, Hank also was human and couldn’t predict just how long it took to get everywhere. It was going to be fine. He needed to be careful with his stress levels today.

He made his way over to the bench he hasn’t seen in a long time. With that energy still thrumming, he went about pacing, almost jogging to get rid of the excess energy. He was all alone so he didn’t worry too much about being caught and just kept an eye out for that familiar Oldsmobile. The moment he caught its grey color getting closer, he made himself go and sit down on the bench staying as still as possible. He tried to not look too tense and instead inviting, he didn’t want to set Hank off about his internal struggles. This was about them, not about his past after all.

“Was kinda surprised to see your text,” a gruff voice said after the tell tale thunk of a car door closing. It sounded like Hank was trying to lighten the mood with the awkward laugh that followed, but the lack of response made the silence return.

Hank came into Connor’s view not too long after that, awkward shuffling before he settled on the bench next to him. A bit of space between the two. Connor wasn’t sure where to start. Who should be apologizing here? He felt like he was supposed to be for some reason despite Hank having been the one who hurt him. This was confusing. Maybe he should have asked Nines to come with…

“So.. what’s up?” Hank offered up after a couple minutes. He was clearly uncomfortable if the way he kept glancing at Connor and his hands kept messing with his jacket said anything.

“I… I’m not sure how to go about this.”

“Go about what exactly?”

“This? I want… to fix our relationship.. I miss. I miss our conversations… and Sumo,” Connor ventured very unsure where to go. He added the last bit to lighten the mood, but it was also the truth. He hasn’t seen the dog since he moved out.

Hank nodded and sat there thinking. He would be better at going about this Connor didn’t doubt.

“I won’t lie. I’m not the best at ‘emotional stuff’ like this, but I can see you’re strugglin’ so…”

A chin scratch then throat clearing, “I know deviancy hasn’t been the easiest on you especially from what I could tell Cyberlife was like. I don’t know what happened that made you shut us all out for so long though. Would you mind telling me what the hell happened at that meeting before we go any further?”

Oh. Oh yeah he never told Hank what happened did he? He knew Hank talked to Markus.. He didn’t think Markus would have left it vague. He honestly thought the leader would have laid out all the details for everyone to see. Interesting. He’s just stalling for time now.

“I wasn’t lying about how we were discussing what we would be doing with the androids that react negatively towards humans. I was suggesting that we make safe zones where humans would not be able to enter when North got upset,” Connor felt his hands clench together and nose wrinkle a bit, “She went on saying how I had no place in the conversation as I never supposedly have had bad relations with humans since I was so close to you. She said how I would never be able to.. Understand… their struggles.”

He let himself close his eyes and take a breath before continuing. There was no point in getting himself worked up again here.

“For the past several months, I’ve been treated time and time again like I have no say in anything. As if I never experienced emotions or the extent of cruelty humans can have. The constant use of that word it.. I felt something snap inside of me, and I let out my anger on them. I was too upset from months of frustration to stop myself. Afterwards, in a way I saw to protect myself from that horrible feeling, I shut everyone out.”

He couldn’t stand to look at Hank anymore, taking up staring at the river instead. The river didn’t have eyes that could hold judgement. Distantly he was a bit surprised he managed to even say all of that so steadily.

“I see. Is that why you uhh.. Moved out of the house so quickly?”

“Partially…” he caught a hand motioning ‘go on’ in the corner of his visuals.

“You also did it. Using the word and discounting me. I mean. I wanted to be alone to process what happened and keep myself safe as mentioned, but I.. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you as well. So I left before I made anything worse.”

Connor closed his eyes ready for some sort of reprimand. He wasn’t sure why he expected to get punished when Hank had asked what happened, but he couldn’t help the dread that was sitting in his already anxious internal cavity.

A muffled ‘fuck’ caught his attention and he opened his eyes again. Glancing over he saw that Hank was rubbing a hand on his face, looking at the ground with some sort of expression Connor couldn’t place. His eyes suddenly glanced up, looking into Connor.

“Look, kid. I’m sorry for what I’ve said,” mentally Connor ticked another mark of hearing the word sorry, “I know I still have my own issues to work through, but I should have watched what I said better. And before you go all ‘you couldn’t have predicted’ or whatever, it’s no excuse. I’m a grown ass man who should have seen how I was hurting you.”

A sigh and another round of face rubbing. A nervous tick maybe?

“I’m not going to pull you under the bus either by saying you should have told me you were feeling that way. Because I think we both know that whatever Cyberlife did fucked you up real good, and you never would have said shit as long as you could. So. I fucked up and I can’t guarantee I’ll do better, but I sure as hell will try.”

Connor let those words settle a bit. He didn’t look as openly sorry as Nines but his eyes spoke more volume. Hank has been there since the revolution. He wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine obviously, he still had bad days and relapses, but he did try. He helped Connor whenever he asked what seemed like obvious questions about emotions and human interactions. He would get Connor’s mind off the past on bad days, awkwardly but still there.

“I accept your apology. I’m not sure if I can say I can trust you the same amount as before, but I don’t want to push you away anymore.”

Hank’s shoulders slumped in relief a bit and a one sided smile joined it. It didn’t last long as he soon looked around, hesitant about something.

“Would… Would you want to move back in?”

“No.. not now.. I’m not sure if I ever would like to move back with you, Hank. I miss the feeling of home your house brings me but I.. I’m still scared of getting hurt again. I also enjoy the privacy my apartment brings me.”

Hank seemed to slump a bit from what he assumed was sad disappointment, but he nodded seriously.

“I’ll still visit when I get the chance. I wasn’t lying when I said I miss Sumo,” Connor kind of blurted a bit quickly. He didn’t want his friend thinking he was only going to tolerate him at work.

A gruff laugh, “He misses you too, son” and a hand messing up Connor’s gelled hair (which he did not mope about in any sense).

The lingering dread and fear from the snow lasted with him the whole time him and Hank spoke after that. But it wasn’t as overwhelming. Hank didn’t stay much longer, getting up complaining about how he was too old for this shit and needed to get home before his joints shattered which Connor helpfully informed at what temperature that could actually happen.

Connor did accept the offer for a ride to his apartment. He turned down the offer to see Sumo. He wanted to see the big lump of fur, but he used up a lot of energy trying to keep his stress levels stable all day and wanted to rest by himself for a bit. Hank didn’t take too much offense to it it seems at least.

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #connor angst #connor whump

18 notes · View notes

0paperairplane0 · 3 years

Text

Pain

Summary: Loki’s struggling with his mental health and one day, Thor notices his brother’s scars.

Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, angst

Words: 2259

A/N: I was thinking one day that Loki’s obviously dealt with mental illness before and wanted to write a little bit about it idk. This is very angsty and does have self-harm so if that triggers you, don’t read. I’ve never written angst before so sorry if it’s a bit sloppy! I’m really sorry if you’ve ever had to go through anything like this and I really, really, really hope it gets better.

Speech = Bold

Thoughts = Bold + Italic

——————————

It was hard, but he was used to it. For centuries, all he did was fake. Fake a laugh, fake a task, fake a smile. It was easy for him. It brought him comfort. The thought always made him laugh. Going through stress, anger, pain every day yet, pretending everything was okay and lying, brought him comfort. It was familiar, to lie and pretend, so it helped. Going through his day with perfect posture, everyone thinking he was proud and in love with himself. Often, he found himself saying “I, Loki of Asgard, am burdened with glorious purpose.” Most think he’s just narcissistic and full of himself but, the opposite. He tells himself he’s great because he knows it’s not true. He’s the monster parents tell their children about at night. He hated himself, but it was easier to let everyone believe he loved himself, and maybe one day convince himself of it as well.

This was just another day. He got out of bed, brushed his teeth, made his hair, and changed his clothes. He was ready to leave his room. He reached for the doorknob and walked out. He headed towards the kitchen where no one was to be found. It was predictable considering it was 4:45 am. He’s always been a person who enjoys mornings. They’re calm and quiet with no one awake. He also doesn’t sleep much. He’ll go to bed at 1:00 and wake up at 4:30. It was a schedule and it was enough sleep for him. Nightmares also didn’t help.

He grabbed the kettle and put it on the stove where he made some tea. He put it in a teacup and added some milk but no sugar. He put two fingers against the bottom of the teacup. It was hot and burned. He left his fingers there as he picked up the teacup and headed to the counter, still feeling the pain in his fingers. He sat down and took out a book with his magic and flipped to the page he left off on, occasionally sipping his tea.

He’d finished his drink in about 10 minutes but wasn’t hungry enough to eat anything. He got out of his seat, put the teacup away, and sat back down at the counter, continuing to read in the dark. After what he’d predicted to be about 40 minutes, he started losing interest in reading and sat up. He picked up the book and it disappeared in his hands as he put it away using his magic. He checked the clock, it was 5:20. His teammates would wake up in about an hour. He left to go to the training rooms.

Once he was there, he trained. After he was done with his fitness, he threw some knives and shot some arrows, working on his aim which was still perfect whether he was looking or not. He would fight with Thor later to work on his combat but, for now, he was done.

He headed to his room, walking past a few avengers on his way, giving them a nod. Everyone was awake by now. He undressed and hopped into the shower.

After he put on some clothes, he brushed his hair, then went to leave his room. He reached for his doorknob, but something stopped him. It was like he couldn’t move. He was stuck. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat as he began understanding what was happening. His hand started shaking. It was subtle but noticeable. He began feeling anger towards himself. Why is this happening if nothing has triggered it? He asked himself. It happened often. Sudden bursts when nothing was wrong. His breath became heavy and his whole body felt as if it would drop. He felt heavy like he was drowning. He told himself to breathe and went to his bathroom, trying to keep himself composed.

He went inside and splashed his face with some water. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the mirror, staring daggers at his eyes in the reflection. Why was he like this? He’s always been so… different. There was no reason for it. He left the bathroom and returned to his room. He put his face in his hands and began crumbling to the floor. He backed up against a wall and wanted to cry, but couldn’t. He never cried. Not because he was tough, but because he had no tears left to cry.

He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his arm. It was covered with his sleeve but he knew what was underneath the leather. His mutilated wrists, the victims of centuries of hate, anger, pain, regret, confusion. He rolled up his sleeve slightly and stared. This was the side of him no one knew of. He’d gone two entire days of not hurting himself, but it was too much. He summoned a small dagger with his magic and just stared. He wanted to do it, but he shouldn’t. It’s not good for me he told himself. He lowered the dagger against his skin and slashed. Pain, but the physical kind. The bearable kind. He slashed again. And again. And again. And again. He watched as his blood rolled down his arm. He moved on to the other arm. I am a monster slash, I hurt people slash, I don’t deserve to live slash, I deserve nothing slash, slash, slash, slash. He stopped. He felt better. It was fine. He put down the dagger and stayed on the floor. He looked around his room and found a place where his eyes stayed. He stared at that spot of his room.

He kept staring, thinking. He didn’t hear the knock on his door. “Brother? May I come in? I have to speak to you of an important matter.” More knocking, but Loki heard nothing. “Brother? I’m coming in.” Thor opened the door and saw Loki, sitting on the floor. A dagger inches away from him and bleeding wounds all over his arms. “Loki?” Thor asked, fear in his voice. That, Loki heard. He looked at his brother and their eyes locked. “Hello, Thor.” Loki said. “What- Are you- Loki? What happened?” Thor asked, concerned as he walked into his brother’s room and closed the door behind him. Loki began laughing. Thor didn’t find any of this humorous.

“Brother, this is no laughing matter. What happened-”

“Do you truly not know what you’ve walked in on?” Loki asked, sarcasm in his voice. Thor didn’t reply and walked closer to his brother. He grabbed his brother’s wrists and Loki didn’t protest. The wounds were clearly fresh but that wasn’t what concerned him. Loki’s wrists had many scars. There was barely any space where there weren’t scars. Some cuts looked like they were maybe a few days old and others were merely scars that looked years old. Something in his mind clicked. “How long have you been doing this to yourself?” Thor said, his voice serious. Loki grabbed his arm back and smiled. “Centuries.” He replied. “Why?” Thor questioned. “Because it helps”, Loki replied, the smile fading from his lips. It was Thor’s turn to laugh. “Help? How could this possibly help, Loki?! You’re hurting yourself!” Thor’s voice was angry yet concerned. “You don’t understand-” “Then make me understand!” Thor cut his brother off and yelled.

“You really want to know?” Loki said, smiling sarcastically. “Yes! I want to know why my brother has been hurting himself! For centuries!!” Thor replied. “Very well”, Loki said, still smiling. He stood up and rolled down his sleeves.

“Think”, Loki said. “What?” Thor replied. “Were you or were you not there when I let go and fell into the void?” Loki asked Thor. “How does this have anything to with-” “Answer the question if you want to know.” Loki cut his brother off. Thor questioned his brother’s methods but listened. “Yes, I was there when you fell into the void.” Thor finally answered his brother’s question. “And why do you think I let go?” “Because you were angry? You found out of your true parentage.” Thor answered again. “Now tell me why you hurt yourself.” Thor demanded. “Fine.” Loki answered, with poison in his voice.

“I hate myself and always have.” Loki blurted out. “I- I was always different from everyone else but never knew why. You would enjoy yourself with friends while I would watch. I tried so hard to fit in with everyone else but it never worked. People have hated me everywhere I’ve ever gone. “He’s the dark prince! D- don’t go near him! He’ll bite your head off!” Everyone always loved you but they hated me. I was the little boy living in the shadow of his big brother. The little prince with no future. Father always preferred you over me and I never knew why! I wasn’t good enough no matter what I did. I was always a failure who could never do anything right! I thought there was something wrong with me and I guess I was right. I’m a monster. I hurt people everywhere I go. I’m a murderer. I’m just a burden to you and everyone who knows me!” Loki poured his feelings. His face was no longer holding a smile and tears were welling up in his eyes. “And to answer your question, I hurt myself because it helps. It’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. Also, if I don’t do this, I lash out at others, hurt others. It’s effective.” Tears were now running down both Loki and Thor’s faces.

Thor looked shocked. “Loki… I had no idea”, Thor said. The sarcastic smile on Loki’s face reappeared. “Of course not, you never notice anything.” Loki said. He wiped his tears and fixed his hair, checking over himself in the mirror. “Very well, I’ll be on my way then.” He left the room with his perfect posture and Thor did nothing to stop him, still struck by Loki’s words.

<><><><><><>

Loki spent all day worrying about what his brother saw. He was sitting in a chair in the library and reading, or at least he was trying to. He kept on re-reading the exact same paragraph over and over again. He couldn’t focus on the words. What if Thor were to confront me about it? Or tell someone? He was dreading what may happen.

After some time of re-reading the same paragraph, he got up and left the library in search of Thor. He had to be the one to bring up the topic, not Thor. He would not let himself be cornered.

He looked around the headquarters for some time, in search of his brother. Finally, he found him in a common room with Steve Rogers. “Brother?” Loki called and cleared his throat. “May I speak with you?” He asked with a cold voice. He saw as Steve looked at Thor with concerned eyes and his brother did not hesitate to look back at the soldier, equally as concerned. “Yes, of course”, Thor said, getting up. Loki worried that Rogers may know what Thor saw but discarded the thought, not wanting to be distracted. He had to appear unbothered.

They headed to a different room with Loki leading. He walked in and Thor followed. Loki closed the door and turned the lock. “Loki, if this is about what I saw....” Thor said with a look Loki hated. “I want you to forget what you saw.” Loki demanded quickly, keeping his voice steady and his face serious. “Loki, I cannot just forget that. It was-” Thor started. “Scarring?” Loki finished his brother’s sentence with a still face. He feared his brother may reject him after all he saw. Thor lowered his head in shame.

“You know what? Never mind, this was a bad idea.” Loki turned around and began walking to the door to leave. “Brother”, Thor began. “What”, Loki growled with poison in his voice, quickly turning around. He wanted this to be done with. “Please, please just make me this one promise.” Thor said softly, as if he may break his brother. Loki’s face looked calculating, studying Thor’s expression. “Please just promise me that you will not…. That you will not hurt yourself anymore.” Thor pleaded with desperation in his voice. “And why would I do that?” Loki asked, a sarcastic tone tracing his voice. “Please just”, Thor looked down into the palms of his hands. “If you won’t do that, at least promise me that you’ll come to me if you ever feel the need to hurt yourself.” Thor slowly looked up at Loki with a face full of emotions.

“I don’t want your pity.” Loki spat at Thor and looked away. “And even if I wanted to inform you every time I felt that way, I couldn’t. Sometimes it comes in uncontrollable bursts I cannot anticipate.” Loki said with tears in his eyes. “Then, tell me afterwards? I want to help you brother.” Thor looked at his brother with pleading eyes. Loki looked up at his brother. For a moment, he looked innocent and it made Thor’s heart ache. “Fine. I will try.” Loki said, looking away. “Thank you!” Thor said, crushing his brother into a hug which Loki hesitantly returned. “I love you”, Thor whispered, hesitantly. Loki laughed, pulling away. “That’s enough emotions for today. Goodbye brother.” Loki said, hesitantly patting Thor’s shoulder. He went to walk out of the room and stopped at the door. He turned around. “Thank you brother, truely”, Loki said quietly, giving Thor a small, genuine smile. He left the room with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

——————————

That’s it! This is also my first time writing angst and I hope you enjoyed it!!

33 notes · View notes

vcsecretgifts · 3 years

Text

Snap shot in time

From: @auburnandamberangel

Merry Christmas @plopofcolour Qotd era Khayman and Armand interaction on the Night Island. Hope you like ^u^

~~~

Armand watched Khayman looking at his upper terrace garden, the plants benefiting not only from the sunshine but also the seaspray. The cacti, the large Saguaros with their armed tall appearance especially had captured the ancients fascination. The silhouettes classic to many a western. They weren’t indigenous to Egypt, effectively a new world plant, and certainly capturing this until recently slumbering vampire. Perhaps as they too were long lived, slow in maturing. He had his cameras slung over his neck and shoulder wanting to capture the bloom on one of them, a first. He recorded all of them on this island. Mementos.

Khayman was a very good guest, polite, and surprisingly unaloof compared to other vampires of a similar age. ‘Mr manners leaves their bodies after the first few thousand years!’ Daniel had observed dryly not to long ago as they say in said same garden, watching the waves. Sitting on the stone steps, snuggly between Daniels stretched out legs. Barely dead himself, so manys ways appeared rude by his modern standards. “Not all are…impolite.” Daniel had nodded, smiling almost as if he’d read his mind and knew he was thinking of the Egyptian. Which was impossible, he just people watched very well. And surely he was an expert in Armand observations by now.

“Ahh but Khayman was nice as a human, not many airs on him plus he’s sweet on you. So you’re the last person he’d be short with.” Interestingly not too much jealousy in that statement. A small possessive kiss to the top of his head, caressing of his arms about his waist. Their guests came and went, things were more peaceful minus some of their vampire brethren. Peaceful between them even. Born in a time of crisis, his home even invaded it wasn’t ideal for them even with a notorious nosey parker like his fledgling. He’d borne so much strain at his hands before being turned, it worried Armand. Sometimes they fought as he instinctually pulled back.

“The fact he’s easy on the eye doesn’t hurt much either does it.” Daniel added laughter in his voice. Teasing. Armand smiled despite himself turning his head. “But I’m famous for a penchant for blondes darling aren’t I.”

“Except Louis.” His beloved kissing his dimples. And others he’d best not mention. Not eager to quote that book at him right now.

“Hmmmm. Nice to not always be predictable then.” Kissing Daniels matching smile. It had ended up being a very good evening that night. Allowing himself to bask in the glow of the memory of it.

Khayman found the sea soothing, the air fresh and the garden a magical oasis. A small movement betrayed his hosts presence, rare to not have an exuberant Daniel or hesitant brooding Marius in orbiting attendance around Armand. Moths to this ’cherubs’ - seraphin now surely more apts flame- A ethereal beauty no matter the flowery language. In his time one destined to be blessed by the gods. A soul just as full of substance as his appearance. To think without her, the mother waking he’d probably not have crossed paths with this one. So artful at cloaking his presence. Deep in thought he was looking at him, but not really seeing him. Caught in a recollection. Unguarded he looked so young, in the eyes the depth and knowledge in them gave his age away. This was the way with their kind. Trapped in their making, the soul grew seen through the orbs alone. Somehow still warmth there, if the mood was right. A miracle considering the heartache had been through in so far centuries. He would do much to make sure he didn’t make those eyes cold. Watching this former coven master navigate so many vampires in his sanctuary, first love mingling with last. Struck by the poise. The former parents guardian, the Roman made said face light up and close down in equal measure. Not his place to intervene ofcourse, though tempting. Best to announce his presence, so Armand didn’t feel too exposed.

“Armand, good evening. Was there something I can aid you with?” Smooth heavily accented voice totally interrupting his reverie. “Did you want private time in your garden?” Previously observed vampire catching him unawares, hoping he hadn’t left himself open to scrutiny thoughts wise. His mind usually locked up tight, some of the first brood lacked finesse with the mind gift, it coming to them later. But what they lacked in finesse, could be made up by brute force alone. Being Marius’ blood line vicariously provided some civility that otherwise may not exist, for a not even five hundred year old former cult coven leader. Ageism was alive and well in their surviving group from Akashas cull. As if age always came with wisdom… Khayman had been gentle and respectful in his manner towards him. Armand appreciated this from his most recent friend. He saw him as he was, no judgement.

“No not at all. I take pleasure in seeing enjoyment from my garden. The cacti have you in their thrall I see.” Genuine smile to the ancient. Moving closer. The garden lit by coloured uplights here and there to make it appealing.

“They are exotic to my old eyes, yes. Beautiful yet dangerous. So like us I feel.” Small smile back. “Your a gracious host, I know it’s not in most of your nature’s to live on mass for long. You’ve been patient where you could have been firm. Silent when you could have spoken.” Khaymans turn to watch and enjoy the view that had nothing to do with the garden, but more it’s creator.

“Ah well, tact or diplomacy is something I’ve always had to have. Never to speak unless it improves the silence or my position in it.” Being quite open now in this admission. Unusually candid for himself truly. He didn’t think he’d regret it in this situation.

“The lone jackel is a hard role to break, though it’s served you well.” The ancient replied. Looking back at the cacti. “How old is this one then?”

“This one is around seventy years. It’s the first year it’s flowered, you’re lucky to have witnessed it.” Itching to take a picture of the flower, and perhaps Khayman too if he was truthful with himself. Just incase his stay was brief and centuries passed until another meeting of minds. “But they can live to around one hundred and seventy five perhaps even two hundred years. Not bad for a desert dweller.”

Khayman eyed the camera, that was the term wasn’t it. One of the magical picture capturers. “You’ll record it with this?” He hadn’t tried anything new in a while. Armand was patient, the best person to ask to try. “How?” He uttered before he had time to edit.

Inquisitive and open to instruction, not your average elder. Refreshing like the sea breeze. “I need a tripod, unless you can hold it steady as a rock. I’ll do both.” Zipping inside and then back out to get it. “I’ll need a long exposure to make the most of the moon light, and a flash for my close ups. The window inside opens for the picked time, the light hits the film and makes an imprint like an eye I suppose but in reverse, or inverse a negative. We can use the darkroom next.” Twinkle in his eye as he saw the ancients eyes widen. “The Polaroid develops as you shake it.” It must sound odd to the others ears.

“Witchcraft then. I’m an apprentice to a modern sorcerer.” Pleased by the laugh this comment brought from Armand.

“Usually I’m called bewitching. But I’ve been accused of worse.” Daniels words echoing in his head, pleased he didn’t blush as easily as said youngblood.

Gingerly taking the camera and going still, statue like as he could. A trick you learnt which came easily with age. Though it usually unnerved younger immortals. *Direct me as if I’m a tripod.* He said is the mind voice. Armands softer hands aiming the slr camera for a closeup. Physical contact was a luxury being a nomad rarely afforded.

Hearing the snap of the inner workings, turning of the spool. With each shot, the flash singing. Armand liked this process, methodical, practised yet still room for error and surprise. *Move back a little so I can get a portrait of it. Perhaps one of and for you to take with you?* Because people leave - eventually. This was always a possibility. Sentiment came with a cost, this he always knew.

A photo to keep. An anchor would be good for times Khayman felt unsteady. Stronger by the year, but wispy in his soul sometimes. A welcome light in the Night Island Villa, to concentrate on. *Yes. A portrait of plant, myself and it’s guardian even better.*

Warm glance, nodding his answer. “This also has a cable to take a photograph at a distance. A bellow balloon, a tube and a metal press.” Screwing it into the button. Then retrieving it from the taller elder. Fixing this on the tripod via it’s own foot. Let’s set ourselves up. Standing and leaning into the framing arms of the cactus, as if the plant was behind them, reaching to hold them close.

Khayman followed the younger ones lead. Moving in closer and realising he could smell Armands hair. Wondering if this was his shampoo or just his natural scent. Vampires sometimes exuded a odour that was unique to them, a spice in the blood perhaps. Marius had made him, imbued with donations by Akasha during his guardianship. Perhaps he had smelt like this in Venice as a mortal. Not something he could easily ask the child of two millennia. Nor share a want to share his blood to strengthen those below a thousand in their coven, truthfully only this one piqued his interest.

Armand had the cord behind his back to depress at just the right moment. Khaymans strong heartrate was hard to ignore so close. “Ready. One two three.” Not using cheese, referring to a dairy product as slang for smiling usually put older vampires in a spin. So a countdown better. Not flinching at the flash or the next long exposure. “Always take more than one for practicality.” Moving to replace the lens cap and concentrate on the Polaroid camera in front of him now. “Arguably this one is like magic.” He stated with a smile. “As Daniel can attest I took so many in our early years here.” Boxes and boxes of them, indulgent expression on his face. He was rich, but some things were priceless that had little monetary value in his collection. “Strike your next pose. Make yourself comfortable.”

Khayman liked Daniel. He was full of life, and hoped that energy didn’t turn downwards into madness. Knowing Armand was concerned with this too, any elder making a first fledgling would be - especially one as fond of forward planning as his host. Smiling nervous about doing something wrong. Hoping irrationally it wasn’t magic, as magic never bode well. Flash and snap. Painless. Wondering what the twins back in Sonomo thought of this new family, Mekare learning after her travelling the wilderness. Focus on Jesse, their link to Miriam.

Armand handed the Polaroid by its framed white bottom edge to the elder. “Now shake it, and you’ll slowly appear.” Charmed by Khaymans expression, bouyed one so old could still feel the wonder of the new. Despite intermittent sleeps. Hope for all of them surely. Watching Khayman watching the photograph as it developed. “What do you think?”

Bit by bit the image appeared - the dark background shading in firstly, the bright green cacti appearing next with its vibrant blooms. Then the paled by time figure, a smile all for the taker. Now one such photo of Armand with or without himself would be wondrous. “A fine picture.” So excited he placed kisses on Armands cheeks stopping before he daren’t put any on those rosy lips. Moving faster than he usually did, enveloping the younger vampire in a hug would perhaps be too much of a liberty. They had time. “One of us next, yes?”

Armand didn’t have time to start at the sudden movement of the ancient. Stealing himself to be squeezed, fortunate it didn’t come to pass. Khayman smelt inviting though, heady blood from their fount. Marius would be jealous no doubt. But he wasn’t here was he. Attending to Pandora, a promise of a return soon. As ever time would tell. Trying not to stare at Khaymans lips. “Yes. An instant portrait next.” Glad of someone who gave as much as he took.

#2020 VC Secret Santa #VC #Vampire Chronicles #submission #plopofcolour #auburnandamberangel

26 notes · View notes

alottamoney · 3 years

Note

This is very frustrating because you can't be messaged.Nevertheless I would like to share something very serious with you. These are strictly speculation. Firstly I would like to clear my position with Taekook.Long story short: I believe them.

Quite recently I stumbled upon a theory about Taekook's coming out process that seemed very logical to me.The summary of the theory is, the art that BTS has been releasing from the beginning,or from 2015-16 to be exact, have been quite evidently inspired by Taekook's journey from discovering themselves, to then losing themselves, to then finally be able to find their happiness and true-self with each other.From Stigma, to DNA,to FAKE LOVE.A lot of BTS songs are talking about a hurtful love filled with sadness.Also, the kind of songs Taekook listens to and covered from the beginning traces that journey from sadness to happiness.From the official songs,Singularity, The truth untold,Heartbeat,House of Cards,Whalien,Make it Right to name a few.It's justified to assume that BANGPD supports them and love them.But if it is so then why the separation from time to time?According to this theory it is to prepare the ARMY very slowly to getting used to Vkook.We have seen since 2017 taekook is used to promote the Album the most,to hype it up,and once the Album's released,it's the watchful eyes again.BangPd was very supportive of Jkwon,a kpop idol who likes drag.But he also told him that you cannot throw a stone into a still lake and expect everyone to be fine with it.It will take a long time to get the water to settle down.What bangpd is doing with Taekook is he is engineering a very long process of getting people used to the message of acceptance through messaging of their album,love myself,be yourself.He is creating a generation that is used to these ideas so that when that stone lands,there will be no ripple.

Now nitpicking time.Tae and BangPD share a mutual dislike for each other.It's not a secret.Because Tae made it obviously clear on many occasions. Everyone in the kpop world knows it.Starting from Taekook's relationship, V was being portrayed as a non-essential member.Idk if it was a coincidence,but taekook is the king of coincidence and the timing somehow matches.It got to the point where he had only 1/2 lines in a song. If you know Tae's journey, you would know and I'm not gonna elaborate the extent to which it was bad.I also get the feeling he doesn't like Kookie's personality(he doesn't respect him) because he has a psychological need for Tae built in him.The golden Child of BTS.If BangPD is supporting Taekook and engineering their smooth coming out,and taekook are in on it,then why do they seem displeased when separation happens?It has happened so many times that there is no other option to consider than them being unhappy with the situation.

My pessimism will take over from this point.It's about money in the end.I personally believe BangPD supports lgbt.Before elaborating on my point I want to present someone else's viewpoint who I had a discussion with.They are even more pessimistic than me.A bit hilarious too.According to them if BangPD really supported Lgbt he would not try to corner Tae like that.It's an unwritten code among lgbt that you hold each other's relationship up despite your personal things.According to them BangPD used all these messages for marketing purposes and used Taekook and the members as a gimmick for it.That's why he was okay with Jikook but not taekook.Tae did not like jikook happening on stage to the extent it was happening but it was given a free pass in the name of it being just a job.According to this person,an lgbt supporting person would never do something like that to a lgbt relationship.Scary stuff.

Now my elaboration : BangPD is not necessarily protecting Taekook or BTS,he is protecting his investment. He wants to engineer a smooth path for their coming out but only under his term?I know before military it's unthinkable and even after that, my opinion is Taekook are not the declaring in a statement type couple.They prove by actions,not by words.That's why I am a bit confused as to what pd's thoughts are regarding Taekook future.All I know is that Tae does not like it when someone instructs him how to behave in his own relationship.He's been throwing middle fingers left and right to whoever can see.If they are not on the same page with Pd's plan for them,then....what?On a sidenote: I am sure JJK and KTH1 mixtapes are getting delayed due to profit sharing issues.You just know they are going to break every record out there.V said in 2019 that his mixtapes were ready for release that year,and he wanted to see how ARMY react to it and then he uttered something very interesting"It's going to be delayed anyway"..then he laughed in the brattiest way possible at the staffs while spoiling 😂 BH couldn't get that sweet sweet money from "Sweet Night".Going back to my previous point,it really seems like everything is connected to money.Does BANGPD want a situation where if Taekook have to come out,whether by accident or something else,he can be there to take advantage of the situation?Like saying he supported them all along,and the money will come in as support for them pours in.Idk how that will a viable situation.For one, Tae will consider eating poison before agreeing to letting PD use his personal relationship for circus,and it's fair to assume BangPD knows it.Then what about the possibility that PD really is like a strict parent,who wants the best for his children even though his methods are torture.Did he think taekook not being a couple was in their best interest?Taekook's interest/BTS' interest?Like I said, I personally believe pd supports lgbt.He doesn't like Tae's personality,his rebellious streak.I could be wrong but would his personal dislike move him to create tough situation for taekook even though he supports lgbt.It seems unlikely because wouldn't it create unhealthy environment within the group,pd must have known this.Or did he think it's just a teenage romance,one push and it will break easily.All of these possibilities because all I have gotten that TK are not happy when their relationship is micromanaged.

Now there's Lisa in JK's Vlive correcting his steps in Euphoria.Guess we are all delulu at this point.I really think that was Lisa though.Don't ask.I'm sorry for this long ask.Please share with me what you think.

Hi anon, I'm happy that you shared your views on Taekook. My opinion on this topic might be disappointing but I'll share anyway.

First, I don't have a coming out theory because I don't think any BTS member would willingly reveal any sort of romantic relationship because of the fan frenzy around them.

I don't analyze MVs, lyrics, and such because these things involve a lot of input from a lot of people: producers, composers, lyricists, designers, stylists, choreographers, etc. It's much more than just BTS sharing personal stories and trying to find clues about the members' private lives from them is a pointless venture according to me. The covers and song recommendations made by Tae and Jungkook in the earlier years, like you pointed out, have more weightage in this regard.

About Bang and his relationship with Tae and Jungkook: I think there is a large gap between fandom perception and what has actually been shown. While I don’t think Tae is Bang’s bias, I also don’t think he dislikes him or is out to sabotage him. It is even possible that him “favoring” Jungkook does not extend beyond his potential marketability. He seems indifferent for the most part to them as individuals. Assuming Tae and Jungkook are in a relationship, I agree that maybe Bang did not take it seriously until he had to. He could also have done a lot more damage than just separate them on screen or cut them out of content so I don’t think he micromanages them outside work (or may he tried and Tae and Jungkook are just that inseparable🤷🏻‍♀️). He might even consider it beneficial, not in a direct financial manner but in that it makes them easier to control and monitor- two less NDAs to worry about. It doesn’t help that Tae and Jungkook are also very erratic in a way that can’t be attributed to company micromanagement. That could explain some inconsistencies, they’re also figuring it out (and they’re a bit dramatic about it in my opinion).

Jokwon hasn't said anything about his sexuality explicitly, I don't know if this counts as an example of Bang's support of the LGBTQ community but he seems open-minded enough and he hasn't said or done anything homophobic. Tae and Jungkook though are part of his biggest cash cow so, while he might not be homophobic it's not a stretch to assume he has different standards for them vs Jokwon who isn't signed to his label. About using the members and Jikook as a gimmick, I think that is simultaneously complicated but also not that deep and it’s probably a separate discussion; in short, I don’t think Bang is thinking farther than taking advantage of and promoting a popular (easier?) ship but it seems to have affected the relationship of the members involved (Disclaimer: I don’t think that all permutations and combinations of relationships between the members have a possibility of being “real”. I don’t think it’s an everyone loves everyone situation.)

Will Bang or the company try to take the credit if Taekook are outed by accident? The way they act, I feel like they are pretty confident that no such thing will happen. In the very minute chance that it does, I think they'll wash their hands of Taekook and let them fend for themselves. I don’t think they’ve done the groundwork to benefit from such a situation nor do I think they are making it easy for Taekook. The narratives put forth in In The Soop and other content do the opposite of cushioning the blow. There’s no overall consistency and it’s really hard to predict how such things will play out, so I don’t know if they have any plans centered around Taekook right now much less back when they discovered that Taekook might not be typical bandmates.

I'm not sure what you meant by that last paragraph but why Lisa?

#taekook #vkook #ask me questions #bts taehyung #bts jungkook

2 notes · View notes

allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

Text

The Besiege of Bruce Wayne McQueen

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

I didn't say you could get up I'll swing the hammer back Until you've had enough Your armor cracking, amidst your son's frantic call Tell me, Victoria Who's the Strongest Creative of them all? Bones breaking You cower before me shaking As I wield my blunt instrument without relent You've had your fun, Bad Mother I hope you've gallivanted to your heart's content I am the magic your beautiful boy has so long lacked Bruce Wayne best behave Or I'll break his mother's back Lost Boys belong in Neverland Consider me, his Peter Pan You don't care for him like I can Neglect and endangerment is the McQueen way, isn't it? You selfish fake C'mon Vic He's safer with his Uncle Manx You ungrateful Brat....... Just say THANKS!!!!

Three words. PULSE. POUNDING. PHENOMENAL!!!!!!! I write this wide-eyed and shell-shocked, a trembling wreck of electric emotion, the prevalent being pure, paralyzing BLISS!!!! DAMN, NOS4A2 you are SPOILING us!!!! Is it Christmas!? Last week I watched the glowing potential of the ascending firework disappear, and just as I lamented its predicted fizzle out, it SHATTERED the skies around me with an explosion of colours brighter and more vivid than anything I've ever seen, in a deafening ROAR!!!! HOLY SMASH!!! I LOVED THIS EPISODE, so much so, that I feel like I lived it, every death defying second, so ALIVE with the rawest emotion, the most terrifyingly beautiful villainy, my every sense heightened, and in this bloody besiege for one, Bruce Wayne McQueen, our spectacular cast shines BLINDING, giving their best, and most authentic performances of the series. Prepare yourselves for a Lake House excursion, you will NEVER forget!!!!

I LOVED how this episode sent us sprawling right into the action, and I was so so so wrong about the fantastic build-up of the suspense from last week going to waste, because it lit the fuse for one HELL of a firework display. Where last week didn't hit me quite hard enough, this episode STRUCK like LIGHTNING, electrifying every vein, and barely taken breath. The fight scene....... yes, you know the one, the all out, claws drawn, hammer wielding, haughty taunting, smoulder and slashing duel to the death was pure, screaming, POETRY!!! It's ART, the most electric, ENTHRALLING, aria of wit and savagery, it's the single most INTOXICATING scene, not just in an episode full of instant iconic images, but of the ENTIRE series.

Vic VS Manx, a faceoff fraught with revenge and raw energy, no special powers, no knives even, just hurling razor-edged words, fighting, grappling, scraping, nothing but an autopsy hammer between the two of them, was MESMERIZING!!! Charlie is a black, roiling wave of breathtaking rage, coming down on his worst enemy like hurricane thunder, with a ruthless, ferocity, such as we have never before seen. I loved every second, even as I fell apart at the seams, hand clasped over my mouth, trying not to scream. While some might say this head on collision lacked his usual finesse and refined showmanship, I must vehemently disagree. How clever of the writers to give us a Charlie driven to the verge, snapping, shaking off his gentleman's cape, to reveal his sharpest edge, and rawest fury, not to mention darkest intent. Charlie's done playing the game....... he's ready to win, to take the queen. Or in this case, the prince.

The juxtaposition of his elegantly brandished wit, and the brutality of his swiftly dealt blows, is pure, and utter genius, not to mention one hundred percent CHARLIE!!! I grinned like a lovesick schoolgirl when he told Vic, "I hope you have galivanted to your heart's content." I'm swooning, even as I write that, his dialogue was on point, as the kids say, as perfectly tailored to his elegant malevolence, his beautiful wickedness, as that magnificent chauffer's coat!!! Also, forgive me my shameless fawning, but can we TALK about his shiny, raven especially gorgeous HAIR during this episode!? Whether it's falling wild in his eyes, as he draws back his blood-thirsty hammer, or hanging in dark, feathery waves, as he smirks, leaning over his seemingly vanquished nemesis, Charlie's iconic silken strands were as deadly as his backswing, drawing my eye, and stoking my passion something fierce!

I loved how he laid it all out for her in his Malicious Manx Rhetoric, and one of the things I desperately love about Charlie, is how he can speak such vulnerable truth, even in the midst, of a rasping seethe. He explains it all, passes his sentence, this is why you don't deserve him, this is what I'm going to do, and why you can't stop me, even as he pounds the hammer against her back, oblivious to the protective armor, cleverly concealed in her biker jacket, due to some quick thinking, and a fun, surprising telepathic assist from the miniature McQueen. "No Mom, just play dead......" I loved all the nerves Charlie touched on, not just physical nerves, but the exposed, emotional ones as well. He knows how insecure Vic has felt, about the kind of mother she's been, her shortcomings, her fear about not being good for him, not able to love him like she should, provide for him, and Charlie exploits that to profound perfection. "You won't be able to ride away from your Beautiful Boy. He'll call you, sometimes, from Christmasland, and you will see...... He's BETTER with me!!!"

But the thing that shook me the most, was the bleeding truth of his words as he told her, "That's what you do, Victoria, you run. Even from the things that you LOVE!" WOW Charlie....... the depth, the piercing insight in that quote still gives me chills like mad, and it's a searing revelation. I also marveled at Charlie's outright admission of having been in love with Vic, which I'd always suspected, especially after Parnassus, but he's never just come out and said it, and definitely not to her face. "It's a dangerous game...... endeavoring to love Vic McQueen, I found that out myself with Craig, after you set us both on FIRE." I love how he snuck that in there, how he makes Craig and himself out to be HER victims, and I think Charlie's relationship status with Vic will always be, "It's Complicated," because while she holds a special fascination for him, most of her allure lies in the challenge. What he loves is the most about Vic is hating her. Hell hath no fury like Charlie Manx scorned.

You know what else, was just....... a THRILLING chill!? After giving her a good and proper thrashing, and tongue-lashing, Charlie's voice is a spiteful growl as he rasps furious, "Just say THANKS!!!" I could NOT breathe!! WOW........ What SPLENDID writing!!! It's not enough for Vic to lie there, and take her punishment, the punishment that in Charlie's eyes she so obviously deserves, but he demands her thanks as well, for taking her only child, reprimanding her wicked, wanton ways, sparing her from having to be a bad mother. "If you had a grateful bone in your body, you'd thank me......" Charlie has always seen himself as the hero of NOS4A2, saving children from their broken homes, and lonely lives, and if you told him point blank he was actually the villain, the antagonist, he'd scoff in your face. This idea that he's being generous, actually helping Vic, even as he enacts his ultimate revenge speaks volumes to that, and I loved it. He even tells her young son, with such soothe, "Don't worry........ She can never hurt you again."

That being said, I also loved how Vic fearlessly turned the tables on our handsome phantom, dropping the pretense of excruciating pain to strike hard, breaking Charlie's leg, and leaving a nasty gash across his lovely cheek, before reigning down hell on the Wraith. This was especially jaw-dropping for me, since I had written a scene eerily similar, over a YEAR ago, in my NOS4A2 Series, and it was such a giddy, breathless joy, to see it all play out, exactly as I had imagined it!!! I loved how Vic gives Charlie his insisted upon thank you, after making her move, even though, yes, I was a little heartsick, seeing that impossibly perfect face so drastically marred. The warm, happy, fuzzy feel of Wayne's childhood memories, interspersed with the impassioned violence was yet another INSPIRED, and poignant stroke of brilliance, and in my opinion made the scene even more powerful and intense. It also inspired a fascinating theory....... That Wayne is a Strong Creative, that can speak through his memories telepathically to his mother. There are several instances in, "Bruce Wayne McQueen," where our adorable title character floods his mother's mind with happier times, and words of wisdom. Yes, Vic is a powerful Creative, and this could very well be her own doing, but as she's never been one for sentiment before, something tells me Wayne is speaking to her, calming her down, keeping her safe.

This episode is a masterwork of action and suspense, a transformative audience EXPERIENCE. You're in the Wraith with Charlie and Wayne, sitting on the edge of the backseat, you're treading water, traumatized with Vic, as the bullets whizz past you under the surface, flinching with every shot Bing fires, and you're pressed up against the window with Wayne, hands on the glass, as his mother sobs her devastated goodbye, promising to find him, her stricken eyes so full of love, knowing she has to leave him, if ever she'll have the chance to fight again. It's so beautifully executed, every shot, drawing us into our creative heroes' journey with immersive cinematography. It's unique to any other episode that has come before, and stands out as a groundbreaking method of emotional storytelling.

I must say this though....... This episode was as close to achingly perfect as you can get, right up there with Sleigh House, a MAGIC that I never EVER thought anything in my natural life could touch, but as much enamour as I feel, there were a few slightly detracting flaws. I absolutely LOVED the shifts between different points of view, it may be an unpopular opinion, but I thought that was another daring risk, that definitely paid off. My issue however, lies in the repeated events from one person's point of view to the next. I felt that the needless repetition slowed down the breakneck action, throwing a kink in the timeline. There were more than a few times where I was like WAIT, did that happen before or after what we've just seen!? I appreciate that they were trying to give us a new vantage point to what we'd just witnessed, maybe even belabor the moment for dramatic effect, but it ate up valuable runtime, and undercut the flow in my opinion, as well as shortchanged the suspense, knowing full well what was going to happen, because we'd already seen it from another character's point of view! How much better to show a scene from one perspective, and then jump right into the consequent action with the change to the next? How much MORE would we have gotten to see!?!? Had they done that, then this episode would have surpassed even Sleigh House, my ultimate ideal.

Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy getting to see what happened in the car with the boys, during Vic's ride through the woods. I LOVED how Charlie, ever the paternal guardian, was so taxed by Wayne's vehement cries, and frantic banging on the windows, that he says, in true exhausted parent fashion, "Please Wayne, just a small nap......" There were times that the rewind worked, but most times, I just wanted to get on with the story. Another grievance....... What the HELL are the Wraith's windows made of!? Yes, I understand that this is a supernatural, sentient car, but SERIOUSLY!!!! No amount of force, be it from a swung wrench, or slammed autopsy hammer, or SPEEDING bullet, could shatter even one of the Wraith's windows. Yes, I know it added to the suspense, watching both parents try desperately, and still fail to free their son, but it detracted from the reality, suspending my suspension of disbelief. They should have been able to at least break ONE!!!

I was also a tad bit disappointed with The Hour Glass Man, how about you guys? The way Abe set him up to be this heavy hitter, this "Fixer," in the Dark Creative World, I was so excited to see his knife and how it worked!!! At the beginning of the episode, our calm, sharply-dressed secondary villain, uses an hour glass, not to stop time, not to rewind time, not to alter time, but....... to hypnotize the two feds long enough to assault the lake house, SHOOTING Chris McQueen in the leg, before turning the gun on themselves. Yes, it was only our first look, and I'm sure our man of unsolved mystery has more than a few tricks up his ironed sleeves, he isn't in high demand for nothing, but....... as he was supposed to be Charlie's ace in the hole, I had prepared myself for something truly mind-boggling, something more than just compulsion, an everyday occurrence on The Vampire Diaries. Even in his second go at Vic, he pulls a Manx, and just hits her with his far less supernatural SUV. I knew something was up, the way Charlie didn't veer, and try to run Vic off the road as she pursued him on her new motorcycle, firing shots into the driver side window. He let her ride alongside him, so calm, and I KNEW he was leading her into a trap, and leading me straight into my second disappointment with The Hour Glass Man. I don't know, even though it got the job done, and landed her in the hospital, him hitting her with the SUV just felt....... underwhelming, which this episode is definitely NOT.

The hidden hero of "Bruce Wayne McQueen," is by far Chris Freaking McQueen, who has redeemed himself in my eyes through his fearless fight, both to stay sober for his daughter, and to keep her from losing her son. Not gonna lie guys, I was HORRIFIED, when I thought the Feds killed him at the beginning of the episode, and for the longest time after he got shot I was like DON'T you dare FREAKING kill Chris, oh god, is Chris dead!? A question to which there is no answer until nearly the end of the episode. Vic, still treading water underneath the dock, shakes violently as she hears the gunshots go off a little too close, and I, myself, was scared as HELL, thinking Bing was firing straight down, having discovered her. A horrible moment, as the blood falls thick from between the wooden slats of the dock, directly onto Vic's forehead. And then....... Chris Freaking McQueen, like a gun wielding white knight charges the sick BASTARD, Bing Partridge, shooting him repeatedly, although, to our collective chagrin, does not kill him!!! Seriously. Somebody gut that Creepster Pervert like a fish!!! Chris even takes on Charlie all by himself, firing at the Wraith, as it speeds off to my complete and utter delight WITHOUT Bing Partridge leaving him behind, FINALLY!!! You GO, Charlie, time to sever ties with that obnoxious deadweight.

Where this episode uncovers Charlie in his most heightened, dangerous state, raw and intense, Bing is portrayed at his detestable WORST, and my hatred for this hulking henchman was infinite. I HATE the way he is with Wayne, it literally made me sick to my stomach. Charlie is so sweet and gentle, paternal, and patient with our dear little Bats, doting upon him, and you can tell how excited he is to be his father, how this particular child, Vic's only son, is the second most important entry into Christmasland, after his own daughter. I'm still dyyyying from the way he said, "You and I have been dreaming about each other, haven't we?" How PRECIOUS!!! In counterpart, Bing is disgustingly abusive, grabbing him up off the ground, dangling him by his arm, threatening to shoot him, bite him, calling Wayne a, "pretty girl," (GOD, YOU SICKO!!!!) and I just couldn't stand it, I was so damn furious, I couldn't see straight, and I'm DONE with Bing, I want to put a hit out on that lewd, child abusing, BASTARD!!! It would seem Charlie is done with him too, leaving him behind to die, and I especially enjoyed that cleverly veiled threat in the car, Bing droning on and on about what he wants to do when he gets to Christmasland, and Charlie smirking with a coy mention of a special feast. Yeah...... I see what you did there, Babe. It's time to hang a Partridge, swinging from a pear tree.

Another thing I particularly loved about this episode, was that it had the unique symmetry of beginning and ending in the hospital, and in both instances, Wayne's birth, and the aftermath of his abduction, Vic loses him. Even as a newborn, after a harrowing C-section, Vic knows something is wrong, crying out to the nurses, as they do CPR on the tender little babe, and after only just bringing him into the world, Vic already has to face the threat of one without him. That was beautifully mirrored in the final, heartbreaking scene, when Vic, seeing her boyfriend, and father in hospital beds from her own, but no Wayne, realizes, with abject terror, her son is gone. Her worst fear, the ONE man she'd fought for eight years to protect him from, has taken him. BEAUTIFUL, heart-wrenching, devastatingly good acting from Ashleigh, the desolate sobs, as her mother holds her in her arms, the hopelessness, and fear in her eyes. It shattered me.

An all time high for NOS4A2, "Bruce Wayne McQueen," holds all the emotional drama, and high risk of a proper Season Finale, and we're only FIVE episodes in!!!! If it's THIS good, this early in the story, I can't even imagine what lays in wait, as the Wraith races away with a very special boy in tow. Hold on, Strong Creatives....... Our WILDEST dreams are about to come true.........

#nos4a2 #nos4a2 review #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #bing partridge #chris mcqueen #the wraith #bruce wayne mcqueen

13 notes · View notes