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mysticalrambling · 2 years

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Within his wandering hand lies impending doom (H.S)

A/N: I am finally posting here after a month and I’m really excited to share this fic with you. Shoutout to my two best friends, @pettinesspersonified @peculiarpenman, for giving me the motivation to write this and be there with me every step of the way. I love you both and I wouldn’t be able to do this without you two. Anyways, let me know what y’all think. Love you guys!!

My Main Masterlist is here.

Harry Styles Masterlist is here.

Summary: Realising Harry’s lack of commitment is not for you, you decide to break things off with him.

Warnings: angst, open relationship, mention of abuse, mention of drug use, mention of addiction, mention of drinking alcohol

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You tried to keep an open mind to everything in your life; whether it was moving to London for your studies or agreeing to an open relationship with the famous rockstar. Meeting him at a New Year’s party was totally unplanned because you both hardly had a common group of friends. You being a London Times writer and him, well him being Harry fucking Styles. He was like a mystery to you at first and that’s what got you hooked. But as people say, some mysteries are better left unsolved.

Your friends had warned you to stay away from him but as usual you didn’t listen.

‘He’s not your Prince Charming.’

‘He’ll break your heart.’

‘You’ll be better off without him.’

But you didn’t care, you couldn’t care. You were like a moth drawn to a flame. The brightness of it all blinded you and let you burn away. He could do anything and you would still hang the moon and stars for him. That’s why you agreed to go out on a date with him the very next day. That’s why you agreed to keep a casual relationship even if it was the last thing that you wanted. That’s why you allowed him to have other flings because you couldn’t see past him. He was everything but now you weren’t so sure.

“H, need y’please.” You got straight to the point because you had the worst day in history. Your article that you were working on for the past three months was abruptly rejected by the editor and he took his anger out in front of the whole office. You were humiliated, to say the least and you just wanted your Harry. Well, technically not yours but you buried that little snarky voice for the time being.

“What happened, love?” The concerned voice of your six month’s boyfriend filtered through the phone and you immediately felt your body relax a little. You just wanted to have a peaceful evening with him and forget about everything.

“My boss-“

A feminine voice interrupted you before you could get the whole sentence out of your mouth. “Harry, the food’s gettin’ cold.”

“Wait!” Harry turned around and focused on the phone again. He was really worried about you and he couldn’t afford any distractions. There has never been a time when you called him like this so it must be something serious. “Y’gotta tell me what’s botherin’ yeh, pet.”

“You’re- Are you with someone right now?” Clutching the phone tightly in your hand, you spoke lowly into the phone.

“Yes, ‘m. But that doesn’t matter right now. You’re upset. I’ll come over with y’favorite pizza and some candies.”

Usually, you would swoon at his sweet words and ignore the other girl but not today. You have been thinking about your situation a lot lately and you knew you couldn’t be nonchalant about this anymore. Hiding your relationship from everyone while knowing that he wasn’t completely yours was taking a major toll on your health, physical and mental. You just weren’t a person who could do things like these but you also didn’t want to lose Harry.

From the moment you met him, you imagined your whole life with him; from becoming a real couple to sharing your dying breath with him. But now you weren’t so sure. You tried to find a middle ground with him by trying to go on several dates but that just wasn’t your scene. There were some really potential guys that you met but you just couldn’t take an interest in them. Not when your heart belonged to Harry. So you stopped trying a few months back and didn’t tell your boyfriend about it. No need to let him know that you were heal over heels for him.

“Just enjoy y’date and I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

“(Y/N)-“

Harry stared at the phone in disbelief. You have never been short with him. You have never even argued with him because you never liked confrontations in the first place. This was so unlike you and he knew he had to check up on you. Making his way back to the table, he leaned in and spoke in an apologetic tone, “Gotta cut this short. Somethin’ came up.”

“Is everything alright?” She looked up from her phone with concerned eyes when Harry was about to leave immediately. Don’t get him wrong, Evelyn was beautiful. She was funny and charming. That’s why Harry agreed to go on a second date with her. But nothing was more important than you.

“Yeah, I just have t’leave.”

“Lemme come with y’then.”

“No- No, it’s fine.” There was no way he could tell Evelyn about you. It wasn’t that he was hiding you from the world but he wanted your relationship to be kept private.

From the moment Harry won the X factor, he lost any semblance of privacy in his life. He went from a simple bakery boy to a rockstar. Fame had ruined many of the good things in his life including his relationships. He just didn’t want anything to affect what you both had. Harry wasn’t looking for anything serious when he met you but he knew that he wanted you there. You were the only person that he was comfortable showing his other half of the life. You were important to him but he was too stupid to realize that he might lose you because of his immature behavior. Sometimes, it was like he was still that 16 year old boy who was auditioning for the X-factor. Harry never learned to handle him emotions and grow up as an adult.

“‘kay but let’s leave together. Don’t want to spend this date by myself.”

“Come on, hurry.”

“Jeez ‘kay. Y’need to make up t’me with another date, Harry. Styles” There was a teasing tone in there but Harry didn’t focus on it too much. He couldn’t focus on it too much.

“Sure.” Coming out of the restaurant, Harry cursed in a hushed voice. They were surrounded by the paparazzi from all sides and it was hard to maneuver through them right now. Harry didn’t need this right now and he was really getting pissed. Taking a deep breath, he started to make his way though the crowd.

You, on the other hand, were just sitting there with a glass of red wine and a stupid romantic movie playing In the background. All alone. There was a time when you would have gone out and danced your worries away with your friends. But now, you just silently sulk in your miseries because you pushed them all away. It felt like you had to choose between your friends and Harry. Of course, you chose him like the love sick puppy that you were.

With a start, you realised that you were the one that had to constantly sacrifice things in this relationship, be it your friends, your integrity or your job. The reason that you were lagging behind was because you flew out every time Harry wanted to see you. You left on a moment’s notice whenever he called because at least he was missing you. At least he wanted to spend sometime with you. At least he didn’t forget you.

A twitter notification brought you out of your trance and instead of ignoring it like you usually did, you opened it. Most of the hashtags that you followed were related to Harry so it must have been an update on him. You almost wanted to throw up the wine that you had drank in the past hour because of the headline trending on the app.

‘British heartthrob once again spotted with the mystery girl, exiting Cafe Aylanto. Is the rockstar finally settling down?’

Looking closely, you focused on the girl’s face and realised that you had seen her before. Scrolling through the same account, you got to a picture of Harry opening the car door for her and taking her into the studio. At that time you didn’t think much of it. Maybe she was just someone from his management agency or she was going to be working with him. But now, it seemed pretty clear. He had probably gone out with her and had taken her back to his studio. According to him, it was one of his moves to impress the ladies.

This concerned you a little bit more than usual because Harry has never been with the same girl a second time. It was never serious with any of them and in a twisted kind of way, it was always a source of comfort for you. You were a constant in his life and you thought it was never going to change. But what if there was another girl? What if this girl was taking your place? What if he didn’t need you anymore? Your head was now pounding with the amount of stressful thoughts running through it.

‘You’re t’only one I would come home t’darling.’

‘None of ‘em matter t’me.’

‘I’ll end it all f’you. Just have to ask, lovie.’

Thinking back to all his empty promises, you just wanted to smack yourself upside down on the head. How could you be so stupid? He had you fooled into thinking that this was all your decision. Harry never meant to keep his word and you were just a time pass for him. Now, he had found one to replace you and you knew what you had to do. You knew you had to break it off before this toxic relationship completely ruined you. Your quota of it was pretty much already filled because of your mother.

Lily had pretty much been a loner her whole life. From not having any siblings to not having any friends in school, she didn’t have any support. Reckless and stupid decisions had become her forte from the moment she turned fifteen. She had become addicted to heroine and became pregnant at the age of sixteen. You have been taking care of her ever since you could make sense of things around you. The only job that she had was to pass out on the couch or bring home very questionable men. Out of the blue, Lily would realise that she needs to quit for your sake but she would relapse pretty soon afterwards. You always fell into her emotional trap but you decided to finally leave when her boyfriend hit you. You tried to take her with you but she chose him over you. Harry was just like your mother and you had to cut him out of your life now.

You could hear your heart breaking but you convinced yourself that this was for the best. A door bell interrupted your thoughts and you solemnly got up from your couch. You probably looked like a mess with your hair in a top knot and tears streaming down your face but you didn’t care. You were too involved in your own thoughts to care.

“(Y/N), are y’okay? Why are y’crying?” His hands immediately went to rub the tears from your cheeks. Closing your eyes, you savored the moment because this might be the last one you would ever have with him.

“It’s- It’s nothin’.”

“You’re cryin’, baby. Please, tell m’what’s wrong.” Harry really hated seeing you like this, especially when he knew that he was the reason behind it.

“Fine. Y’want to know why I’m crying. Y’want to know why I’m such a mess. It’s because of you. I feel so worthless right now. Like I’m a replaceable object t’you and you don’t even care about me. You don’t care about the fact that I have t’see you with all these other girls and I can’t say anything’ because we aren’t serious. Well, Harry, I’m tired of all this. I- I can’t do this anymore.”

Heart wrenching sobs were the only thing that could be heard after your little monologue. You just buried your face in your because you didn’t want him to see you like this. You’ve always been the strong one and no one was allowed to see the cracks running through your soul.

Harry tried to come close to you again but you couldn’t let him. He would drag you back into his world with those glassy moss eyes and you knew you couldn’t come back from it. You were ashamed to admit it but that is how much control he had over you and your life.

“They don’t matter t’me. None of ‘em-“

“Neither do I.”

“Let m’finish, pet. I’ll leave ‘em all, just have t’say the word. Don’t want to lose you, ever.”

“That’s the thing, H, we don’t work. You’ll resent m’for making you settle down when you aren’t ready and I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again.”

“What d’you mean?”

“My whole life m’mother manipulated me and now it’s you. It’s just too much.” Realisation crossed his eyes when he remembered the times you told him about your mother. It wasn’t easy for you but you had opened upto him and he was stupid to think he wanted anybody other than you. You continued again, “Y’know what’s funny. I used to think my life was a tragedy but now I realize it’s a fucking comedy.”

“What, no! (Y/N), ‘m serious. Let’s start over. I promise y’won’t regret it.”

“I’m sorry, H, but I need to think about myself right now and I- I need a break.”

Tears were streaming down his chiseled face and you wanted nothing more than to run back in his arms but you couldn’t. This was the right thing to do for you and for him. You both needed to get on with your lives and if it was destined, you would meet again under better circumstances.

“Are y’breaking up with me?”

Letting out a gut wrenching chuckle, you spoke with a little venom in your voice, “There wasn’t much of a relationship t’begin with.”

“But-“

“Goodbye, H.” Placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek, you quieted down all his protests and he finally accepted that he couldn’t possibly say anything to change your mind.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).”

You finally allowed yourself to break down when the door shut behind him and the only reminder that he was here was his fading cologne. You knew you’ll be alright but it was going to take sometime.

Hope you guys liked it!!

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Like, comment and reblog.

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#rachelleblodgettwrites #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fluff #hslot #hslot new york #hslot 2021 #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #dad harry styles #open relationship #my imagination

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rayofsunas · 3 years

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s/o who dies.

A/n: listennnn, I wasn't going to write something dark, but then I unregretfully decided to listen to edgy/dark audios and I was suddenly in the mood to write this so yeah lmao. also, guess what? I'm planning on making a discord server right after posting this! so, be on the lookout for that when I get it all sorted out. also, note for Scaramouche's that the reader inserts tend to lean more femininely versed (I hope that's okay), the only reasons why I do that is because one I simp and I'm female AND two since I am doing a mini-series for Scara, I've kind of based his imagines/fics around that universe (baby daddy universe). I haven't started his yet, but consider these part of that series' universe. anyways as always thank you for requesting anon and enjoy! <333

Summary: you die + how the boys cope afterward.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, death, poison, illness/cancer, murder, arson, obsessive behavior

Word count: 2.1k

Albedo

"You need to keep this on your head." Your lover said for the one-hundredth time, placing the cold cloth on your forehead once again after taking it off only seconds earlier.

"This is pointless," You said, no longer wanting to ignore nor hide behind the invisible thick curtains of the obvious death sentence approaching. "My body rejected the medicine the first twice doses, what's a third time going to do?" You asked, knowing Albedo wouldn't answer; your hope was to knock some sense into his thick skull. but he was too worried trying to ignore the obvious as you had previously been doing, not anymore though.

This was saddening to watch, both Albedo's unfolding and the girl who accidentally poisoned you, whimpering into Sucrose's shoulder. She was only a young girl, barely seventeen when she was chosen to work under Sucrose and your boyfriend. She was very good at Alchemy and luckily had a desire to practice the craft. But unfortunately, she hadn't paid much attention when it came to Surcrose's educational poison lesson and had unknowingly mixed up poisonous liquids and materials.

After tipping over some clutter in Albedo's office and knocking over a test tube laying unsealed on the counter, you had realized the contents spilled on your skin, bleaching into your pores. You had been tasked with bringing the famed alchemist and his assistant some vials and materials for the collection of a rare butterfly they had found. It was both telling and obvious that something was wrong when you never showed up with the required materials requested and it was already too late hours later when the chief Alchemist, his assistant, and Alchemist in training came bounding down the stairs of Albedo's home laboratory.

It didn't take long for the trio to realize something was wrong. Sucrose had found the vile on the floor, most of its contents spilled and in a little puddle, plus your state on a nearby lounge chair was obvious; slumped awkwardly, forehead visibly sweating, eyes closed, breathing raspily.

You accepted the first doses of the supposed nullifying medicine without hesitation, just wanting the numbing feeling to go away. But when it never kicked in you decided it would be best to save the medicine, because it wasn't working. Your time was coming.

"Since the medicine is taking immediate effect, you should try to get the contents out of your system," He said, reaching out for you. Badly you wanted to argue that the medicine wasn't working at all, but he wasn't listening and already has his lean arms wrapped around your middle, helping gently lift and guide you over to the sink.

You hear materials being shoved to the side and soon enough you had your head dangling over the sink, shaking hands gripping the metalled edge tightly. Soon enough, Albedo's hand was on your back rubbing up and down, hoping to comfort you, it wasn't working though. You could only think about your death, what the other side would look like. Could there even be heaven or hell, maybe a place in between, maybe nowhere...?

As soon as you felt the urge to vomit, you did, and despite it being utterly disgusting Albedo seemed to welcome it happily. He took this as something good, but it only worried you when you saw the reddish hues in the bile.

"I think they should leave." You muttered acknowledging Sucrose and Elizabeth, the taste of gooey, metal only becoming more apparent. The blonde agreed, nodding and muttering "Okay."

As Sucrose lead Elizabeth towards the stairs, the pair heard you say. "Goodbye Sucrose, Elizabeth." Which only seemed to make the young girl wail louder.

You sighed sadly once the silence was back. Just your thoughts of death, and Albedo's slowly crushing heart.

"You should probably leave soon as well. I don't want you to be here when I go." Albedo frowned at your statement, head shaking.

"Don't say things like that."

Of course, he'd say that. Why did he feel the need to ignore this when it would only come back to hurt him even more later on when you were gone?

"You're the smartest man I know and we both know where this is heading," You said, head feeling much heavier than before. It was getting closer to your time. "I'm going to die, and you can't do anything about it."

"I'm not leaving your side. We promised to stick together through everything, you can't ask me to leave."

"I guess... But promise me this."

"When I go, stop blaming Elizabeth. It was an accident..." You said sincerely. Albedo wanted to make a fuss about it, tell you he'd never been able to forgive her. But for you, he would try. If it was your list desire, your last wish, he'd make it come true. Though it would be difficult. Accidental or not, she was the reason you were leaving him here, alone.

"Okay, I'll try..." He said honestly.

"Thank you," You said, letting out a shaking breath you had been holding for a very long time. Now you felt much more peaceful. "And since I know you stubbornly won't leave," You started, finally turning away from the sink to look into his cerulean eyes. "At least hold my hand."

"Of course, love."

even a year after your death, no matter how hard he tried, there was still this nagging feeling every time he looked at Elizabeth

he wanted too badly forgive her, but he couldn't

she had, although accidental, taken the one person that meant so much to him and he'd never forgive

Albedo is gonna be distant towards everyone he knows and it's completely purposeful

he doesn't like the pitiful gazes that people send his way and he hates that all the captains stared at him at your funeral

obviously, some questioned if he was able to stay in the field

he hadn't taken any time off, even when Jean advised he was welcome and that it would be best

tbh, albedo's going to have a hard time for a while

Xiao

Why did it have to be you? Why not him? He'd feel much better knowing you could live another day, after all, he'd been living a very long time.

But no, the fallen Archons, Gods, Yaksha had chosen you to join them. He wished that weren't the case

Humans and their pathetic vessels... So weak, he thought. Allowing something like cancer to beat them.

No matter how harsh it sounded, he didn't despise you, no. It wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for this. He just knew that if you were a godly being this wouldn't have happened like this or at least not so soon; Xiao had known Gods that had terminal illnesses to live years. Why couldn't you be like them?

He hated watching you lie there in that bed, immobile, sickly, and tired, and all you could say was that everything was going to be alright, that he'd be alright.

But it wasn't. He wouldn't be okay without you. He would struggle daily, fall deeper into a hole. You were the light of his life, the only light in his life. And you were gone, just like that. Turning external scars into internal ones tattered all over his dying heart.

Xiao for the longest time has been by himself, so the people of Liyue know it'll be harder for him to overcome this, no matter what he says or does to prove otherwise

Zhongli in particular knows how hard this will be for his friend

his first and probably last love, dead, gone in the blink of an eye

he'll continue fighting all the monsters he crosses, becoming even more violent when he does so, trying his best to get rid of this stupid sickly feeling of heartbreak

but it won't go away, no matter what he does, no matter how absurd

he just wants the feeling to go away, he despises that feeling so much

if you have a secret place somewhere, like in the mountains, Zhongli often finds him there, wallowing in invisible self-pity

"You know they wouldn't want you to be like this." Zhongli would say, only trying to help

but it doesn't

it only enrages Xiao, even more, fuels him to push everyone out of his life again instead of letting them in like he'd done in your presence

Scaramouche

How dare you. How dare you leave him like this. Alone, nonetheless with a toddler to raise who kept crying for her mommy. He couldn't do this without you, he didn't know how to raise a child, speak to her with the gentle care that you did. That was your expertise but now he'd be doing it solo.

And never again would he entrust someone who he cares about, into ignorant, incompetent arms. Never again will he ever allow any member of the Fatui to watch after his daughter; no matter their rank or position. They had one job while he was away doing business in Liyue. Guard your home twenty-four seven, accompany you into Inazuma's port town should you need anything, watch after his daughter while she plays happily in the luscious Inazuma fields. And they couldn't do that. All he gave them was one simple task, watch and keep you and your daughter safe. Instead, they slacked off, probably drunk in some bar while you were being brutally attacked by murderous mercenaries, left to fend for you and your daughter, only to die protecting her and leave your home to be severely burned.

He knew those idiotic Fatui soldiers were incompetent the moment he stepped foot into the harbor and found that everyone seemed to quiet down. Especially the eerily silent soldiers flanked on each side to welcome him home; he was the highest-ranking soldier in the land of Inazuma after all. Not a single one bothered to step forward and tell him what was wrong, what they all criminally allowed happen. Scaramouche only realized what had happened when he was mere minutes away from arriving home, his daughter had come running from his widowed mother's arms, the sight of smoke rising in the air, from the direction of his home. You were nowhere to be seen.

It all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. His daughter was clinging to his shirt and his mother only stared with tears of pity.

It didn't take long for the puzzle pieces to be put together and before he knew it, Scaramouche was standing in front of his home, part of it burnt to a crisp and black.

He didn't need to ask what happened, he didn't need to know where you were, because he already knew. What he didn't know was who exactly had done this. But he was going to find out, now.

Incompetent, selfish, bastards. They would all pay for this. The lazy piggish Fatui soldiers who he should've never trusted with such a simple task and the thieves who had murdered you. They all had it rightfully coming.

Scaramouche hates the world after he lost you

he hates it so much and can't understand how this had happened

he's not a good person, so he blames it on karma and those stupid idiots who couldn't protect you

ngl, he's not gonna be around much after your death... his mother would argue that he should be here to raise your daughter, because she's also in pain and doesn't understand that this isn't some game of hide and seek this time

instead, he's focused and driven by revenge

he doesn't listen to a word anybody says, he's much more dangerous than before, and he only trusts his judgment

anyone trying to get him to stop his mission, is someone who doesn't want to see him happy he thinks (though that's not true at all. they hate that he is obsessive over this) but he will personally put a stop to that

and he'll only return home to his daughter and mother when he finds who did this and they along with their bloodline is exterminated

while he's gone, the remainder of his family is relocated somewhere he knows they'll be safe, for example, even though he despises childe, he knows his mom and daughter will be safe with his family

sorry, but Scaramouche will hold this deep-rooted hatred and love for you after you die

yes, he still loves and misses you dearly, but he hates you for leaving him alone, hates that although it wasn't intentional and out of your control, that you were gone

no matter how hard you tried to fight, it was selfish of you to leave him like this

he's not going to stop until he believes whoever was behind this is dead

and in his case, he'll stop believing when he chooses, even if they are innocent/guilty, he'll keep going

3.19.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genhsin impact scenarios #albedo #albedo x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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gojo-x-reader · 3 years

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Red String of Fate

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, slight manga spoilers

Tags: Soulmate AU

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~2.3k

Request: “Hello I'm actually not sure if I'm supposed to put put my request here? well, if its not supposed to be here, then please ignore it. Anyways, can I ask of you to share your thoughts on Soulmate AU w/ Gojo around 12 to 16 yrs old where he can see signs of who's soulmate is whos meeting his possible fiance who turns out to be his soulmate (I asked that age bc first meeting! he's from a noble clan and its really weird he doesn't have fiance or something) Sorry if its confusing and Thank you!”

Gojo Satoru was twelve years old when his Six Eyes began showing him the red strings of fate. Every person’s string was different. Some of them stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, almost seemingly never reaching the other end. Others were shorter, connected to the person they stood next to (whether they knew of their existence or not). And unfortunately, on some, Satoru could see the end of the string, but it dragged behind someone, unconnected to another human.

Satoru had told his mother about the strings as they appeared. Those are strings that lead one to their soulmate, she had explained to him. Everyone has a soulmate, but not everyone is in love with theirs. There are different kinds of love in this world.

Satoru’s parents were soulmates, but they did not love each other; that much was clear from how his father treated his mother. He never hit her or anything, but he didn’t treat her like an equal; more of a vessel that gave birth to an heir. He only interacted with his wife when necessary, the two not even sleeping in the same room at night.

For that reason, Satoru was scared to meet his own soulmate. He had one, that much was clear by the bright red string tied around his left pinky that stretched on for kilometers. He didn’t want to end up like his parents.

Gojo Satoru was fourteen years old when his father announced that he would be marrying you, a girl from the Kamo clan. You were the youngest daughter in the secondary branch of the family, just a year younger than him. Tomorrow, the two of you would meet for the first time.

You were nervous about tomorrow, for several reasons. Number one, you had heard the rumors about Gojo Satoru--the first member of the Gojo clan to be born with the Six Eyes and Limitless, the two inherited techniques of his clan, in a hundred years or so. That meant, in a nutshell, he was much stronger than you could ever hope to be, as someone who hadn’t even inherited the Kamo clan technique (which is why you were being shipped off to another clan). Number two, you had heard rumors of his personality, somehow both cold and carefree at the same time, but one hundred percent a horrible personality to be combined with your timid and quiet nature. And number three, you almost resented him because now you were stuck in an arranged marriage and you saw how well that worked out for your parents.

Tomorrow arrived, and the maids dressed you up in the finest of kimonos, hair ornaments, and even makeup. You weren’t particularly into girly interests, more interested in training for when you enter Kyoto High in a few years; the feeling of foundation and lipstick felt foreign on your face.

You arrived at the main hall, escorted by your uncle (the head of the Kamo family), your parents, and a few maids. You normally didn’t wear a kimono often, except for very special occasions, and you have never been in one for this long. Graceful, you were not, and tripped a few times because of the geta chosen for you to wear with the kimono. Each time, the maids were swift to grab ahold of your arms and stabilize you. They even helped you sit down as you awaited your future fiance and his parents.

Gojo Satoru’s parents arrived before he did. They apologized on behalf of their son, citing that he was on he was back from a mission. You were jealous, he wasn’t even in high school yet and was already being assigned missions. While you weren’t powerful in comparison to Gojo Satoru himself, you could still hold your own against your older cousins and had a decent amount of cursed energy.

Gojo Satoru’s parents seemed nice enough, but the chemistry between them resembled that of your own parents; they tolerated each other, but that was it--no love, no spark, nothing. You wondered if his parents were also put into an arranged marriage. You could sympathize, but you also secretly hoped that the two of you wouldn’t end up like your parents.

You poured tea for your future in-laws, hands shaking slightly, a few drops of tea spilling. As you sat the teapot down, in came Gojo Satoru himself, dressed in a simple black kimono, but the sash was not tied tightly. His hair was touseled, and stained with either dirt or blood (you hoped it was dirt). Despite his unkempt look, he was gorgeous, with bright white hair and eyes blue like the sky matching neither of his parents. Despite the color differences, he took mostly after his mother with her soft features.

When he made eye contact with you, he froze, looking down at his left hand, and then back to you. Before you could even greet him, he immediately fled the room, both his parents calling after him, leaving after him.

That was a bit painful; your first time meeting him and he leaves immediately seeing your face. You weren’t sure how your self-esteem would recover after that blow.

About twenty minutes later, Gojo Satoru’s parents came back, empty-handed without their son. He refused to meet you, but they promised he would come around eventually. So, your family said your goodbyes and left the Gojo estate.

Once your family arrived back at the Kamo estate, your uncle slapped you across the face, blaming you for what transpired with the Gojo family. It was your looks, your lack of femininity that obviously scared your fiance away. Not even makeup or the finest materials could fix it.

So what, if you weren’t “feminine”? Being “feminine” doesn’t exorcise curses, now does it?

You grumbled an apology, leaving to your room and locking the door behind you. You started crying, ruining the makeup that took the maids hours to do, but not even bothering to care. It took a while to get out of the kimono, but you changed into sweatpants and a large T-shirt and left the offensive material on the floor. Neither of your parents bothered to check in on you, but the head maid did. She cleaned up your makeup and brought you some of your comfort foods. She was more of a mother to you than your own, and you were always grateful for her in your life.

The next time you would meet Gojo Satoru, there would be hell to pay for embarrassing you like this.

Gojo Satoru was sixteen years old when he next met his fiancee, this time on the battlefield rather than mitigated by their families. Kyoto was short by one for the Kyoto Goodwill Event, so you were allowed to join as the sole first year. You were glad for the opportunity because that meant you could finally pay back Gojo Satoru for the embarrassment you felt two years ago.

You were told you had great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer, already being promoted to Semi-Grade 2 as you entered Kyoto High. Of course, you weren’t even close to your fiance who was promoted immediately to Special Grade upon entering Tokyo High. While the power difference between a Semi-Grade 2 and a Special Grade was immense, you weren’t going to let that stop you. You held a lot of pain in your heart for how Gojo Satoru rejected you from one glance, refusing to ever see you again that day.

This was Gojo Satoru’s first Goodwill Event, as last year he was only a first-year and the spots were full from the second and third years last year. Since last year, Kyoto had won, the event was held at your school. Not a single second or third year at Kyoto believed they even had a chance to win this year, as Tokyo has not one but two Special Grade students this year participating in the event. There was only one Grade 1 sorcerer on the Kyoto side, a third-year, while the others were a Grade 2 or Semi-Grade 2. The goal was to stick together; power in numbers. While the two monsters Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru could take out the entire Kyoto team singlehanded most likely, the others on the Tokyo team were rather weak, at only Grade 3.

So, the Kyoto side would stick together, avoid conflict. The goal was to exorcise curses, not necessarily fight each other.

The six of you stuck together, exorcising curse after curse. It was strange, as several minutes passed and you hadn’t even encountered one of the Grade 3 Tokyo sorcerers. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, then a voice behind you announcing, “Hello~”

You turned around quickly, barely able to avoid an attack. There he was, Gojo Satoru in the flesh. He was much, much taller than last time you saw him, now towering over you like a tree. On his (admittedly) handsome face was a smug grin, his bright baby blues peeking out behind round black shades. He held his hands in his pockets in a carefree manner. Almost not like he just attacked you and your senpai.

You glanced back briefly. While you were somehow lucky to avoid the attack from your fiance, your senpai behind you was not. The attack left them unconscious, back against a tree and blood running down their head.

While reading headfirst toward your fiance probably was not a good idea, only rage flowed through your head. You may not have inherited your clan’s cursed technique, you inherited a similar technique but more closely to your mother’s Zenin clan’s technique. You could manipulate shadows, not to summon shikigami, but rather to form weapons.

You summoned the shadows to form a sword, raising it to strike Gojo Satoru. But it reached just centimeters away from his body before stopping, almost like an invisible forced kept it in place, unable to move it further. You stared at your hand in surprise.

“Now, now, is that any way to greet your fiance?” Gojo Satoru asked, grin widening.

“Are you really though?” You asked, jumping back cautiously before he could ready another attack. “You didn’t even want to meet me two years ago.”

He placed his hand onto his chin in thought. “Hmm, I suppose that’s true. Tell you what, land a hit on me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Bastard,” you called to him, switching your shadow weapon to a bow and arrow, pulling back the shadow string, and releasing it toward him.

Gojo Satoru held up two fingers as the arrow stopped in mid-air, much like your sword earlier. “I don’t think that’s my name, sweetie. Bad luck for you today. Seems like we’re just a bad match.”

You were frustrated. How the hell was he doing that?

A siren sounded out through the forest. The match was over; Tokyo won, only because Gojo Satoru had distracted the Kyoto group while Geto Suguru handled the stranglers and the remaining Grade 3 sorcerers were able to exorcise more curses than your side.

Gojo Satoru disappeared before your eyes, but you heard a whisper in your ear from him, “I’m feeling generous. An hour before the individual matches tomorrow, meet me in the garden. I’ll explain everything.”

So, that’s how you found yourself out in the garden at 8 am, shivering from the morning chill. The garden was huge, but somehow you figured your fiance would be able to find you.

“Yo,” he called out, startling you from your thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I don’t think highly of you,” you admitted. “You embarrassed me two years ago and my uncle thinks I’m a disgrace to the family now.”

“Yikes, that seems a little harsh. Not like I annulled the engagement or anything. I just was going through some good ole teenage angst then, nothing more.”

“Still going through some ‘teenage angst’?” you questioned.

“Oh, you know, just the normal amount. I died a few months ago and it reset me back to typical teenage angst levels.”

“You what? ”

“But that’s a whole different story. We’re talking about why I left two years ago after seeing you.” He brought a finger up to his lips. “This is top secret. Can’t tell anyone.”

You nodded.

“So, my Six Eyes. I’m sure you’ve heard all about them, being in the Kamo clan and all. It turns out I can also see the red string of fate that brings soulmates together. My parents are soulmates, but they have a shitty relationship.”

“Okay.” You could relate, your parents also have a shitty relationship.

“And they’re the only pair of soulmates I’ve ever known. So,” he grasped his left pinky in yours, “when I saw that red string of mine connect to yours, I panicked. Didn’t want to be forced into a relationship with my own soulmate and end up like my parents. Call me a sappy romantic, but I wanted to meet you and get to know each other on our own, not because we’re in an arranged marriage.”

You couldn’t help but blush. Here was Gojo Satoru, your fiance, one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the world, proclaiming that you were his soulmate. It seemed ridiculous, but you didn’t think he was lying. Suddenly, all the resentment for that time a few years ago left.

You took your pinky out of his, looking away from him in embarrassment, then stated, “There’s nothing that says we can’t do all that while still being engaged. Lets.” You took a deep breath, looking straight at those brilliant blue eyes past his sunglasses, then continued. “Let start over. Get to know each other the right way and see where this takes us.”

He grinned. It was the first time you saw him smile with pure happiness behind it. “I like that idea, soulmate.”

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #soulmate au

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

It’s Always Been You (Eugene Roe x f!Reader)

I have mixed feelings about this piece. But who doesn’t love Soft Roe?

Warnings: couple swear words but PURE FLUFFY FLUFF

Words: 2700

Tag List: @happyveday @saritanotserena @sydney-m @evelynshelby

I stood in front of the mirror, unable to believe the person looking back was actually me. I brushed my hands down the front of the gown, enjoying its smooth, silky texture. Such a contrast to the stiff, dirty ODs I had become accustomed to. Light makeup on my face, something I had not indulged in for years. I looked… dare I say… beautiful. Even as I witnessed myself dress up in the mirror, I doubted my own reflection. It felt like I was someone else. Today, though, that was what I wanted.

It was a Sunday and everyone was still celebrating being in Zell Am See. We had thought Germany was beautiful but it had nothing on Austria.

In his pilfering, Captain Speirs had found an abandoned, wealthy home that he thought I might enjoy. He purposefully pulled me aside and told me to investigate the master bedroom before anyone else got to it. At my questioning look, he just gave a wink and said he would stand guard until I was done. Without another word, he lit a cigarette and rummaged through his newest acquisitions.

Intrigued and still confused, since everyone knew I did not care much about finding treasures, I wandered into the home and up the grand stairwell until I finally reached the master bedroom. My jaw dropped when I saw what he was referring to and purposefully left for me. I owed him a huge bottle of liquor after this. Whoever the wife was that lived here had expensive taste. There were racks of beautiful gowns and dresses, ranging from whimsical day dresses to breath-taking evening gowns. I spent about an hour just touching all the beautiful gowns, in awe that clothing like this was even real. Even the heels and few pieces of jewelry left behind boggled my mind in their quality. It was a fairytale. It had to be.

So, I had decided while all the men were continuing to get drunk, blow things up and joy ride…. I was going to embrace my femininity. Something I had not enjoyed since Albourne, so long ago.

Now here I stood, having spent entirely too long getting ready for some kind of elegant ball. The gown I commandeered was an emerald green color, making me feel like I was wearing a gemstone, with wide straps but left my arms bare and dipped low in the back. The red lipstick I found made my lips pop in the bright light of the bathroom. My favorite thing was the small gold chain necklace I discovered half hiding under a dresser, as if dropped and forgotten by whoever was leaving quickly. I wondered if in another life this could have been me regularly, attending socialite functions and dressing up like a princess. Instead I was used to dirt and blood marring my skin, ill-fitting ODs and a helmet that constantly slipped over my eyes.

For this moment, just for tonight… I could pretend otherwise. Pretend I was someone important, someone elegant.

When I finally stepped out of the wealthy house, Speirs took one look at the gown draped over my arm and the pair of black heels dangling from my hand, and suggested I use the officer's house to get ready in.

Taking a deep breath, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. If only my family could see me now, I thought. I slipped on the heels and walked out of the bathroom, the gown trailing lightly behind me.

Tonight was about me. Doing something special for me. To remind myself I was more than just a soldier, more than the scars I now bore from our time in combat. That I had not completely lost myself to war and its carnage. Beauty could still be found in the little things...the stolen moments. Like a stunning gown and red lipstick.

I could hear the officers downstairs, talking about something, followed by a sharp bark of laughter from Nixon. Before I disappeared into the upstairs bathroom, I had told them I was going to watch the sunset by the lake and if I came back after dark to not worry about me.

Being extra careful in the gown, I descended the stairs. One foot at a time. One nervous breath at a time. Beyond aware of how different I looked.

As I stepped into view of those lounging around, most playing poker at a table in the middle of the room, silence struck. I could feel their eyes land heavily on me.

"Holy shit." Nixon said, mouth dropped open.

I stepped down the last two steps, brushing down my gown to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles. I tried to tease, their amazed looks making me uncomfortable. "I swear, it's like you guys have forgotten I am in fact a woman."

"Uh huh. Can't forget that right now." Nixon took a sip of his drink in hand.

Harry asked, a smirk on his face as tapped his cards against the table. "Where you going dressed like that?"

"Going to watch the sunset." I reminded them.

"Dressed like that?!" Nixon sputtered then narrowed his eyes at me. "Looks like you're planning on meeting someone."

"Does a woman have to dress up only for a man?" Before anyone could answer, I pointed a finger at the officers. "The correct answer is no. I can dress up for myself. I'll be back in a while."

"Y/n?"

I looked at Winters, surprised to see him sitting in an armchair near the fireplace reading while the other officers were playing cards. "Sir?"

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you, sir." I smiled at Winters, receiving a soft one in return.

"You got a weapon on you?" Speirs asked around a cigarette between his lips.

"Maybe."

He froze, then slowly pulled the cigarette out and started to rise from his seat.

"Christ! Yes! I've got my knife! Anything else, dad, or can I go now?"

"Be smart, don't stay out too late or talk to any boys." He deadpanned, shuffling the cards in his hand. The gleam in his eyes let me know he was just teasing, but would also have no qualms stabbing anyone who bothered me.

Amidst the others chuckling, I groaned. "I'm leaving now."

Quickly, I walked out before anyone could try and convince me to stay or worse- go change.

Thankfully, even in the fading daylight, the air was still somewhat warm where I did not need a shawl. I could hear some faint cheers from the enlisted men but I slipped behind the rows of houses and headed down the lakeside path. I walked towards my favorite spot overlooking the lake. Colors danced upon the water, making it appear as if on fire. A few ambitious stars peeked out from above in the sky painted by angels. Never before would I have imagined finding myself somewhere so absolutely gorgeous. If heaven was real, I hoped it looked like Austria.

Standing there, I found myself humming and gently swaying to a Billie Holiday song. My arms wrapped around myself loosely, I tried to soak in everything. I wanted to remember this moment forever, to create new memories to replace the bad ones. The nightmares.

"Blue moon you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own…"

"Y/n?"

I turned to look over my shoulder, not expecting anyone else around. The voice was a dead giveaway but I was shocked our Cajun medic was down this way. "Hey, Gene."

He stood several paces from me; his medic satchel, that he never went anywhere without, hanging off his side. He stared at me for a long moment, eyes dancing over me in a way that made me self-conscious of how much skin showed. Suddenly, he blinked rapidly as if waking from a dream. "What…" he cleared his throat, "what are you doin' here?"

"Watching the sunset." I glanced over my shoulder at the lake then looked back at him.

"Mmm...dressed like you should be in the pictures?"

I laughed, even as I felt my face warming. I ran my hands over the gown, still in awe that I was wearing something so expensive. For the most part of the past 4 years, I had been caked in grime and sweat; even though my skin was clean now, I felt too dirty to wear something so fine.

"I've never worn anything like this. I just...wanted to do something...for myself."

"Mmm… well, I'll leave you be. Goodnight." With a single nod, he hesitated then turned around, beginning to walk up the path back to the houses.

"You know…" I said loudly, watching his feet still as he turned back around to look at me. "It would be a shame to be dressed up and not able to dance."

He ducked his head slightly, a bashful smile on his face. I could see the uncertainty on his face. The desire to dance, to hold me close but also the concern for crossing that unspoken line separating us. For two years we had been tiptoeing around our growing feelings. Both aware but never acknowledging. It was in the secret looks, the subtle soft touches, the constant desire to seek one another out amongst a crowd, the solace our presence created when together. The knowledge hung there between us, with one slip we would both fall headlong over that cliff. So we kept back, together as friends but separate as lovers, even if we could read the desire in one another's eyes. It was safer this way.

Until now.

Without a word, he slowly approached me, as if waiting for me to change my mind, to tell him no, to maintain our status quo. My lips only turned up in a smile as he drew closer, encouraging him, telling him I wanted this. He dropped his satchel carefully on the ground. Our eyes locked, both aware of how this moment could change everything we had built. Carefully, he reached forward and clasped my hand, pulling me into his body. My lips parted on a quiet gasp, feeling his warm breath span across my face, his hand holding mine… and for once, neither one of us was covered in the blood of a fellow paratrooper. I lifted my hand to his shoulder, the muscles tensing underneath my palm. When he made no further movement, I grabbed his other hand and placed it on my waist. For a moment I thought he would reject this, to walk away as he seemed to stay frozen. Then with the softest whisper of my name, as if that was the key to unlock this moment, he pulled me even closer and took the lead.

In the stolen evening gown I found and Gene in his ODs, we danced. Like there was no war to haunt us. No rules against fraternizing. No fear of the future that lay before us. It was just him and I, in this moment of beauty and joy and life. We danced. He led me in a simple box step. Our pounding heartbeats, the fluttering of my gown and the soothing sound of the lake lapping on its shore, the only soundtrack we needed.

"You are beautiful."

My face heated up at the compliment. "It's the dress and lipstick."

"Non, mon chérie." He drawled in that perfect accent and tipped my face back to meet his soft gaze. "It's you. It's always been you."

I stared into his soulful eyes, a new burning in them. Where once it had only been a candle trying desperately to beat back the darkness; now a bonfire replaced it. Something darkness knew it could never defeat. This man who held me so tenderly, like I was some kind of priceless gem, who had seen the brutality and horrors of war but still kept going, still trying his hardest to save his men even when others would have given up. He was beautiful, both inside and out.

"You need to stop lookin' at me like." He whispered; eyes glued to mine.

It was when he spoke, I realized we were no longer dancing. When had we stopped? Our bodies were still pressed together, our fingers now entwined but our feet rooted to the path. The air between us felt anything but still. An ardent intensity hovered between us, binding us to the moment, preventing us from escaping it. The sounds around us disappeared. All I could see, all I could feel and sense and taste… was him.

"Why?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"I might be tempted to mess up your lipstick."

A nervous giggle escaped me. Instead of dispelling the profound moment, it only seemed to enhance it. With deliberate slowness, I moved my hand on his shoulder to the back of his neck. "I wouldn't mind."

His hand moved to cup my cheek, holding me still as he leaned in. His lips ghosted over mine, the sweetest of sensations. It sent sparks shooting through me. After he leaned back just out of lips reach. Our eyes met once again, our breathing quickening even from the faint touch. As if our bodies were synced, I rose up at the same time he leaned forward. This time when our lips met, it was with a kiss long overdue. Our lips molded to one another, basking in the taste of the other. Both my hands slipped to the nape of his neck. His hand on my cheek drifted to the back of my head, keeping me from moving away. His other hand slid to my lower back, drawing me closer… and closer.

The kiss deepened, pulling long dormant feelings from both of us, now finally exposed without reprimand. In the midst, his hand snaked up my side to brush a thumb over the underside of my breast. At the sensation, I gasped in the kiss, surprised by his forwardness. Surprised by the pure wanton need it shot through me. As my lips parted in the gasp, his tongue thrust into my mouth like he owned it. As if he needed more of my taste. Needed more of me. As if a simple kiss would never be enough. Not to him. He quickly drew my own tongue in a dance that soon left my knees weak and wobbling. I found myself clinging to him, not just in desire, but also to keep me upright, else I melted into a puddle of sheer bliss.

All too soon, we were forced apart by our lungs screaming for air. He pressed his forehead to mind, his hand still skimming my side from my hip to the underside of my breast and back down.

"It’s you. It’s always been you." He whispered as if finally able to confide his deepest secret. The words spilling forth like water out of cracks in a dam, held back for too long. "Since I first talked to you in Toccoa about tryin' to sneak a laxative into Sobel's coffee. And in Bastogne… you were always there for me. Checkin' on me. Makin' sure I knew I wasn't alone. But we're in a goddamn war and I couldn't say nothin'. Seein' you standin' out here, lookin' like an angel, I just...I had to…"

I pressed a finger to those kiss-swollen lips of his, silencing the onslaught of secrets. "Gene, I'm going to need you to stop talking and kiss me again."

He smirked, nuzzling my neck for a second. When he spoke, I could feel his hot breath and lips against my skin. "Yes, ma'am."

This time there was no hesitation, no wavering in dilemma. Our lips touched and it felt like it was meant to be. No great fireworks in the night sky, no great orchestra announcing our love. It felt more like two puzzles pieces finally fitting together. Like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day. It was perfect.

When we broke apart again, I felt delirious with joy and the look on his face said something similar. I laid my head on his chest, his arms wrapping around my waist. Bodies pressed against one another, molded together like clay. Without a word, we began swaying. The soundtrack of our shared heartbeats and the lake's waves drowning out anything else.

Nothing in the world had changed. We were still paratroopers occupying Austria. Men were still dying. The war was still going strong in the Pacific. Evil endured.

But in this moment, in our own little world.

Everything changed.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #ronald speirs #ron speirs #lewis nixon #richard winters #harry welsh #reader insert #mzwrites

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incarnateirony · 3 years

Note

Hi!

Sorry for troubling you with this but I wanted to clarify something for myself. In those posts where you were answering people's questions about, whether Cas's got himself a soul or was saved by Jack, and were saying that it all was in the script, which leaked a long time ago, and all over your meta. But how can people, who didn't read the script and your posts, work it out? Like was there something on the show which said how souls are created through feelings? Because it seems a bit of a stretch that the authors made, for example, so much obvious that Cas's confession was love confession but failed to deliver some at least visual evidence that he got to heaven (with some spec of light in the Empty or something). They had to give some verbal or noticeable visual evidence of the process of creating a soul or Cas going to heaven.

Or we were supposed to get this from the fact that souls don't go to the Empty?

Everyone explained it with Jack because they have seen him an episode before calling desperately for Cas because he missed him and then getting the abilities to bring him back.

Figuring out the soul option from only TV episodes requires analysis if it is even possible, which i don't think, the authors thought the audience would do.

So what do you think about it?

Sorry for the length. And thank you.

So here’s the deal: do I imagine somewhere, in the depths of official business notes even beyond script drafts, there may even be a “yeah sure whatever jack brought him back” to answer any questions to the same suits that can’t tell what the fucking Roadhouse is much less more nuanced story beats? Sure.

But here’s the beats.

Check my #Shadow and #Cosmogenesis tags to begin--but in summary: the shadow is both a protogenic and personal psychological concept of the unformed or unaddressed self, and As-Above-So-Below, of the unformed and unperceived world. That is to say-- everyone and everything has a shadow. If you check out Jung, he explains essentially that the shadow is everything we repress about ourselves or fear addressing.

Now, look at the Occultum, where Jack reclaimed his soul; as Cas put it: “Loosely translated: In order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you.” -- but also remember the same episode highlighted “Occultum” is just Latin for “hidden.” -- They made an entire funny trade-off about that.

See, with the alchemy theme on the year, the original cipher reads, in Latin: “Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem,” or in English, “Visit the interior of the earth and rectifying you will find the hidden stone.”

The motto originated in L’Azoth des Philosophes by the 15th Century alchemist Basilius Valentinus. But in alchemy, the shorthand is that the earth is symbolic of the body, and the hidden stone is the perfect soul.

Naming it the Occultum in Latin, and highlighting the latin, then randomly transcribing it in Enochian for Castiel to be the one to get that line spoken was incredibly poignant: they streamlined the symbolism with his “roughly translated” commentary, but the sentiment remained. Given, the gnostic dweebs in our server, when we realized Jack literally ATE IT:

Either way, Jack disappears into the occultum within him to unlock his hidden soul, where the serpent asks one of the prime questions of the journey of the self: “Who Are You?” -- in rectifying what is found there, Jack rediscovers his soul and is reborn.

But the Occultum isn’t only JUST this literal place. It’s a place, it’s a thing, whatever it is, it’s powerful. That was the core key to come in contact with it, but the moral of the story is simple: the kingdom of heaven is within you all along.

But first we have issues to rectify.

The stages are simple. The Shadow asks, “Who are they?” in its dawning state, lacking self identity. On a cosmogenic level, this is where for example Chuck and Amara come to be. On a personal level, this is when we look both outward at other people for identity and even almost disassociated from ourselves.

“I know what you hate, I know who you love, what you fear, there is nothing for you back there.” - Castiel’s shadow on an individual level reflected this in a detached third person sort of way, even if the reflection itself is incredibly personal. The speech is “I speak in order to affirm we are the same.” -- I’m you, you’re me. But if the shadow is rejected, we do not address it.

The Animus, or basic ego, asks “Who am I?” it’s the first stage of wondering. The speech phase is marked “I don’t speak as I don’t dare.” By the next phase (Anima, the superego or dawning soul), it’s “Who are you?” and the speech phase is “I speak as I don’t dare to remain silent.”

On Castiel’s journey, this comes through things like the prayer group where he talks about rediscovering who he was. In the raw initial text, it was coming to realize that he became a father and found a family. But later, 15.18 -- as we approach a stage called Rubedo or the Magician -- has the question “Who art thou”. The speech stage is “I speak in order to hear what I have to say.”

Now, Dean for example had his share of this journey even if it was less about gaining a soul as SPN gives him one as a human birthright but more in repairing the damages on it and also learning when to let go. The four phases are also associated with birthing phases. And death phases. Rubedo is death and birth at the same time.

Notice closely Castiel’s dialogue with Dean; in Purgatory, in a stage reflective of the shadow called Nigredo, where their relationship had rotten and putrefied, he took a knee into Albedo, connected to Animus. I don’t know why I get so angry. It’s always been there. And I can’t stop it. You’re my best friend and I just let you go. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop it. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. Cas, there’s something I have to tell you.

But I don’t speak as I don’t dare/you don’t have to say it.

Castiel turned around in his own awakening and answered this prayer. He addressed why Dean has these self worth and anger issues and how worthy he is of love.

This, just like several other visuals on the year (15.09, 13) are symbolic of something called the Marriage of the Minds. If Grace/Mind is embodied in Castiel, which also mirrors the divine feminine (hence calling the light Rowena parallel in both his death and what he does post-rebirth), and well--Soul and humanity has always been Dean, which is also the solar emblem. Their union gives life to the World, which they just kept kicking us in the teeth with both the phrase of over the year and the visuals in 19. Cue, planetary zoomout, for reasons.

But this also falls into the shadow’s “threat” to Castiel: When you let the sun shine on your face, that’s when I’ll come.

Castiel poured out his heart and, well... soul, basically, about Dean. He changed because of Dean. He carried his torch of right and wrong and what it meant to love because of Dean. Dean changed him. And the moon and mind was full of light reflected in the soul, because of what they did and learned for the Whole World. For love.

A phrase from the corpus hermeticum is, “The cause of Death is Love, but Love is All,” and All itself is another macro/microcosm: the All is the Shadow when perceived, the universal soul, it is essentially--in SPN terms--heaven, unadulterated by the whims of the demiurge that was Chuck. It is the place where souls are born -- as the occultum, the garden, led to Eden, which DSOTM also tells us some see as god’s throne. It’s that we all have a throne inside of ourselves.

Castiel in subsuming Death in an act of love addressed his every fear and repressed issue of himself, and came to learn that Happiness wasn’t in the having, it was in the Being, it was in the Just Speaking It. The just tweeting it out.

But if you track back to those cosmogenics tags, Being comes from the Prima Materia, and the Prima Materia once perceived is the light of the world that is the soul. Souls are real, everything else is perception. People, families, we are.

The Empty is both a cosmogenic paradox and a place within ourselves of our own hollowness -- those things we won’t let ourselves have or feel, but without it, we will never be complete. The idea embodied in the occultum is opposite of that, but also within all of us. It’s nowhere-everywhere-in-us. It’s a matter of asking: Who are you? Who am I?

“You think that’s what you are/That is not who you are.” Castiel addressed, but instead told him of love, and the world, and being the most loving man he would ever meet. “That is who you are.”

In this moment Castiel addressed both himself, and even Dean’s issues. Castiel answered who he was and, at the same time, helped Dean come to peace with who *he* is. And that sacrifice and moment would not be in vain. So it was time to stop the anger, and the desperation, and to live on as intended, and eventually let go in peace come his time.

Sam’s path on this was always leading opposite and always leading him towards earth. Not in a bad way either. It’s fine to do that. Sam had his own chance at individuality told in the future-story.

But it’s about the Shadow integration, about the difference in Being or Absence and knowing what is Good, in about the peace we can find in all of ourselves to be complete.

I do feel a bit sad that the plot end had to be diverted; they generally addressed the idea of Dean needing to speak at the end of the road. But the original point he “had to tell you” and got shut down on never manifest, to the expectable disappointment of all. But I guess that’s what eternity-ever-after is for.

“Castiel is At Peace.” -- At Peace. Heaven tag. Not the Empty. “Mary Winchester is At Peace”, remember that? And teaching the guys to let go and move on because she was at peace?

Even souls can burn out--that’s what demons even are after all. The fact that Dean’s story long walked parallel to the threat of wandering into the Empty isn’t a fluke either. Because of his own issues the concept reflects. But he didn’t. He went to heaven. And probably has 15.09 and 15.18 to thank for that in the subtext.

Integrating with the shadow to become a complete persona (Jung) or soul (general alchemy) aka gold (also general alchemy) doesn’t leave regrets to even sit there and dream about. In fact, the entire heaven structure and division--even that’s perceptual. Check out the Axis Mundi meta on that. Chuck protected his Thought Box against the shadow and it needed summoned, but anybody notice it’s fine on rolling through heaven? It’s up to the rules in each chamber there. It’s just the flipside of the garden/throne/heaven-- it’s not being At Peace. It’s not being full. It’s not being your complete self. It’s just Absence (14.18, the soul.)

The Shadow haunted Castiel as his fears, and when Castiel lacked self worth and to some extent invited death and suffering, it reflected those desires. But in addressing the reasons for having them, it turns into another form of Being entirely.

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #shadow #souls #cosmogenesis #15.09 #15.18 #15.20 #polol

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twelvedy7 · 3 years

Text

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs).

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe. This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences.

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it.

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions.

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure.

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to.

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives.

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder.

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses.

“Yeah. See you.”

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon.

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard.

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together.

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes.

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed.

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time.

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___

“Takano-san!”

...

“Takano-san!”

Who was it?

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo.

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed.

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow.

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling.

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips.

“Takano-san can you hear me?!”

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions.

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was.

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.”

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows.

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him.

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.”

He felt absolutely miserable.

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life.

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…”

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder.

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch.

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.”

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull.

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”.

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him.

Now Ritsu would need him.

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.”

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted.

#sekaiichihatsukoi #Sekaiichi Hatsukoi #junjou romantica #Ritsu Onodera #Takano Masamune #yokozawa takafumi

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komori--shoma · 3 years

Text

Shoma Umi Komori.

🦢

(I'm sorry if my english is shitty-)

❛A sad soul can kill faster than bacteria.❜

—𝐽𝑜𝒉𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑘

⟅☙⟆ Universe ⟅☙⟆

Diabolik Lovers. I plan, however, to take her out of the universe and make her a character of her own. Or maybe I'll just drop it and do both. Who knows?

⟅☙⟆ Full Name ⟅☙⟆

Shoma Umi Komori.

"Shoma" is a Japanese name that means "Woman who seeks the truth, who is not conformist at all." Her second name, "Umi", is also a Japanese name that means "ocean".

⟅☙⟆ Kanji ⟅☙⟆

ショマ

⟅☙⟆ Nickname ⟅☙⟆

Despite being initially confused by these, as she was not used to it, she was given the nickname "Engel" (which means "Angel" in German) by a family quite close to her. The nickname was given by the mother and head of the family, since in the eyes of that woman, Shoma is an angel.

Seiji, who was the adoptive father of the girl, called the young woman "Astertea", which is quite a "peculiar" name in the bible.

Yui, with whom she is no longer in contact with Shoma, used to call her "Sho" or "Shomi" affectionately.

⟅☙⟆ Age ⟅☙⟆

She is eighteen years old, although she looks a bit younger.

⟅☙⟆ Gender ⟅☙⟆

Feminine.

⟅☙⟆ Sexual Orientation ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't know yet. Doesn't really bothers her to know.

⟅☙⟆ Height ⟅☙⟆

160 cm.

⟅☙⟆ Weight ⟅☙⟆

She used to weigh 35 kg., But now she is a proud 64.5 kg.

⟅☙⟆ Blood type ⟅☙⟆

OR-

⟅☙⟆ Status ⟅☙⟆

Alive.

⟅☙⟆ Race ⟅☙⟆

Human

⟅☙⟆ Birthday ⟅☙⟆

June 20th.

⟅☙⟆ Sign ⟅☙⟆

Gemini.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Color ⟅☙⟆

Light blue and night blue.

⟅☙⟆ Appearance ⟅☙⟆

There is a great before and after in her appearance, and even though she is not shown in her story (at the end of the card), there was the occasional change in her future.

The girl has oculocutaneous albinism, so her skin and hair are snow-white. Her hair, due to a small "situation", was long, straight and lifeless. Her hair almost touched her waist, and she basically managed to cover her view. She is now a cute short hairstyle down to the nape of hers, wavy and neat.

Her skin is very pale and fragile, although now she is somewhat better, before she was simply rough and damaged. She has several deep burns and scars on this one as well.

The young woman, despite not having very good eyesight, has beautiful eyes of a light blue color, somewhat grayish.

She has a mark on her right leg in the shape of a fox with several stars on it. It's a pretty special symbol, but she keeps it covered most of the time.

She usually did not wear clothes other than bandages to cover herself, although she still finds old clothes to wear, even though she was a little too big. Now, she got used to wearing light clothes that cover most of her body; like jeans, leggings, or long dresses with something underneath. She doesn't really like to wear short or see-through clothes.

⟅☙⟆ Personality ⟅☙⟆

Many think that she simply doesn't have any kind of emotion. Shoma never shows any kind of expression in public, she is shown with her face up and with a look so cold that she makes it true to her appearance. The young woman is too serious, and depending on the person, it is very difficult to get her out of her typical attitude.

Sho is an elegant little girl, and full of grace despite all her troubles. She will never be friendly enough in front of someone (again, it depends on the person), but she will also not feel uncomfortable or unwelcome unless that is the goal of the little one. Shoma knows that she is able to erase someone from the earth fas if she wishes, but she doesn't abuse that thought, you just have to be careful not to make her angry or touch her too much. It could be a big mistake.

Still, well ...

She is always alert, so it is very easy for her to get nervous or anxious most of the time.

She can also happen that she cannot do something right (she finds it very difficult to concentrate / think on several occasions, as well as sometimes she finds it difficult to understand what happens around her, etc). Still, it is something that doesn't happen as much as before, after leaving the aforementioned situation in which she found herself.

She is easily frustrated, and this happens when she recognizes that she has trouble thinking. It's very easy for her to cry or tear up in frustration (she doesn't do it in public, she refuses to do it, but that only makes it worse). Also, her coping strategy is simply not talking about her emotions and keeping a straight face all the time.

Still, and even though she very reluctantly accepted help, Sho is willing to change and improve (even if she has to go through hell first). She has shown to be too cunning for her age and to behave as if she were an adult, and even though she is slowly trying to behave according to her age, she is very difficult for her as well.

Anyway, Shoma can also be a girl who listens to others and is willing to do it regardless of the situation, and she is always there to be a shoulder on which one can cry. She also tends to have fun when she feels calm around her, being one of the few moments when she feels and acts like a young little girl.

⟅☙⟆ Relatives ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori: Adoptive father. Currently dead.

⟣ Yui Komori: Adoptive sister. Currently alive.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Food ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't have a single specific favorite food, but she definitely likes sweet and simple foods, like grated applesauce and banana, or a fruit salad.

⟅☙⟆ Hoobies ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Shoma likes to make paintings with her hands. She serves to entertain him and clear her mind.

⟣ She also likes to make crowns with different types of flowers, even some bracelets and necklaces.

⟣ She has a certain fascination for mathematics and literature, so it is normal to see her do either of the two when she is bored. The problem is when she has a hard time doing a difficult exercise.

⟣ She Likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. She likes to decorate and combine, so it is normal for her as a hobby to do the odd combination in video games, or in a room.

⟣ It may not count as a hobby, but Shoma loves to watch an episode of a series that she likes or a movie many times to imitate the lines, as if it were some kind of dubbing attempt.

⟅☙⟆ Occupation ⟅☙⟆

None, she doesn't consider herself a student, even if she studies at home.

⟅☙⟆ Relationships ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori, adoptive father.

She did not have a good relationship with him no matter how hard she tried at the time. It was too obvious the favoritism that he had with Yui, and how she always stayed in the shadow of the blonde. Despite trying to be like Yui, he could never have any kind of acceptance with her father.

⟣ Yui Komori, adoptive sister.

He adored her with her soul. Yui was Shoma's heroine, and she always tried to follow her example despite her unruly attitude as a child. The elder Komori was Shoma's world, and he simply wanted to be with her all the time.

Things have changed now. She can't even look at her. The disgust and hatred that he has for that now young woman is simply immense. And believe it when I say she tries; she tries too hard to forget so many things that caused this feeling, but she just can't.

⟣ Yvonne Beauchene, the right hand.

Shoma's only trusted person alongside her family. Yvonne was Shoma's guardian from the day he arrived at the church, although she had some problems because of it, and that is the reason why she had to leave, but surely nothing bad could happen, right?

⟅☙⟆ Likes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite not having tasted it in recent years, she liked (and still remembers the taste of it, so she still likes) Yvonne's orange tarts a lot. She used to do them when Seiji was not at home for her, Yui and Shoma.

⟣ She loves music, especially the one that doesn't have any type of letter and is only a beautiful and hypnotizing melody. Her favorite, and also Yvonne's, is "The Vampire Masquerade", which is the melody which Yvonne met her husband.

⟣ Regarding the above, she usually daydreams many times with music in the background and she likes that (because the real world sucks and it is her only way out of the stress and anxiety that she feels most of the time). She sometimes even draws or paints those scenarios that are formed in her head.

⟣ As said before, she likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. Also, despite having the face of wanting some horror games (these make her heart race and sometimes she has panic attacks), she prefers Animal Crossing by a lot.

⟣ Loves snakes (which are not poisonous), cats and dogs. Snakes are very good company, and cats and dogs are responsible for keeping her calm.

⟅☙⟆ Dislikes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite having been seen surviving based on it, she does not like meat very much. Of course, she can bear it, she even likes some (very few) meat dishes !, but there are certain types of meat that remind him too much of ... well, her own meat.

⟣ Obviously, she can't stand going to churches or things related to religion. She gets too anxious and nervous.

⟣ Her body and mind literally rejects any kind of physical affection if she doesn't know the person very well or doesn't trust them. It's no surprise, considering her personality. Very few people are lucky enough to even put a hand on her shoulder and not get hurt (Shoma doesn't do it on purpose).

⟅☙⟆ Fears and Phobias ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Somniphobia: fear of sleeping.

Oneirophobia, somniphobia, clinophobia or hypnophobia is an irrational and excessive fear of the act of sleeping. People who suffer from it enter a state of panic caused by the fear that while they are sleeping something terrible will happen to them, such as the possibility of stopping breathing or that they will never wake up, even knowing that there is no threat, but they stay awake, presenting insomnia. Some people who have this phobia associate going to bed with death.

In some cases, panic is unleashed by the belief that the dreams that will be had when sleeping are actually delusions and these will favor falling into a state of permanent madness. This type of phobia generates a great deal of stress and significant physical and mental deterioration, so it is not uncommon for many people to end up suffering from hallucinations, a fact that further aggravates this type of phobia: fear of sleeping.

Shoma cannot sleep because various things used to happen during these. She remembers well once a nun (then she disappeared without a trace) entered her room and hanged her, almost killing her if it weren't for Yui screaming for help.

⟣ Theophobia: fear of religion.

Theophobia is the fear or aversion to religion or the gods, and being more common among people who are raised in an environment of iron religiosity. Theophobia can express itself as fear, aversion, anger, or other negative emotion towards religious practices. In some cases, the theophobic representation can categorize the deity as an arbitrary totalitarian dictator or, conversely, as unworthy of worship.

It is common among people who suffer from theophobia to avoid religious texts, houses of worship (churches, mosques, synagogues ...) and even the parishioners of a religion.

The young woman lived in a church for years and was not treated as "a daughter of God", but as "an aberration of satan" by her father and certain nuns. She causes him so much fear that, if there really is a god, she has abandoned her for "not being worthy". Many things together caused this irrational fear of religion in general.

⟣ Hafephobia: fear of being touched.

Hafephobia is a specific phobic disorder (unlike agoraphobia or social phobia) that causes great suffering in the person who suffers from it.

It is an irrational fear of great intensity that manifests itself when the individual suffering from the phobia comes into physical contact with other people and is touched. It produces a series of cognitive, physiological or behavioral responses, among which extreme anxiety and the attempt to avoid the feared stimulus to reduce the unpleasant sensation stand out.

Shoma, of course, is working on this and for now she's doing very well, but if she's some stranger, she isn't going to allow herself to be touched or touched by another individual. She is so afraid that every touch will turn into a blow or something to harm her.

⟣ Atazagoraphobia: fear of forgetting.

Atazagoraphobia is the excessive fear of forgetting, which includes both the fear of forgetting and the fear of being forgotten or replaced by others. Despite the fact that it is a common sensation, atazagoraphobia has been little described in scientific language. In fact, it has been more pointed out by philosophers and writers who speak of atazagoraphobia as the fear of eternal anonymity.

Shoma was literally forgotten or ignored from a young age, and she doesn't want to go through it again. She doesn't want to feel so cold again that she can't breathe properly or move. She can't, she doesn't want to...

⟅☙⟆ Headcannon Voice ⟅☙⟆

Mia Rodríguez.

⟅☙⟆ Skills ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She is impressively good with knives and razors. She usually uses them for cooking.

⟣ Literally she can imitate many voices, even male ones. She uses it to make jokes or for some plan (to get some dessert) that she has in mind.

⟣ She is becoming more and more independent, and that is why she is getting very good at cooking. She even manages to focus on that rather than other things.

⟅☙⟆ Extra ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She has undiagnosed “attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”.

⟣ She tends to bite her arm or bite her nails if she is very anxious.

⟣ It is difficult for her to accept some changes in her life, but she manages to adapt step by step.

⟣ She likes to play with Yvonne's family, August, her husband, being Shoma's favorite.

⟣ She is considerably innocent of the world around her, but at the same time, she isn't. She is aware that the world revolves around that filthy green paper, and she is very clever with it. She knows that her "condition" and her situation may be a weak point, but it is for that reason that she is also careful who she hangs out with.

⟅☙⟆ History ⟅☙⟆

Shoma arrived at the doors of the Komori family church on May 22, 2001, with only a note that said "My name is Shoma, Mom and Dad can no longer take care of me," just three weeks after I was born. She was greeted by one of the local sisters, a favorite of the owner and leader of that church, Seiji Komori. The latter named was not on that cold night, with the snow falling slowly in that beautiful place, so the same sister took care of the girl in his absence.

A girl with blond hair and pink eyes like the petals of a cherry tree approached said sister, curious by the cries that began to be heard. Seeing her up close, and seeing that beautiful celestial gaze, the seven-year-old girl took the girl in her arms (with the permission of her sister), and did not leave her during that night until the next day. It was no surprise to the sister that her crying stopped as soon as the young Komori began to gently cradle her in her arms.

Still, from the moment Seiji arrived, he knew that something was wrong with the girl, that she was "not human", and that he probably knew whose "gift" it was. Shoma was unwelcome, and he couldn't show her that in public, not with Yui close to her. Also, the plan deviated. No, he isn't supposed to have two daughters, and she is supposed to be just one more orphan, but the young blonde girl already called her "Shoma Umi Komori", and that could be ... Something dangerous for him. Obviously, the orders for Shoma to come to his office were not long in coming as soon as he was two years old.

What Shoma saw in her supposed father's room was sealed in her mind, and nothing else. Every time Shoma was called to her father's office, her heart raced because she knew something bad was going to happen. Every time that happened it was because she Shoma found out more and more that she was going to happen to every sixteen, maybe seventeen-year-old on certain dates. It was because Shoma knew too much about her, and if he couldn't make her forget everything she had seen, then she would silence her to her grave. Every time Shoma gained courage and told Yui, she was scolded for inventing such things, and she would see her father again for "breaking her promise" to him.

The only one who managed to believe her is the same sister who received her the day Shoma arrived there, although that same sister would get a serious face everytime Sho told her that, she never had to see her father when she told Yvonne.

But, one day, Seiji went a bit far with the punishments, and let the fury just blind him, even if he didn't even regret it afterwards. Seeing Shoma talk to someone... Important, once this man left the church it just infuriated him. That man's smile when he stopped talking to her and saw him in the eye was not good news at all. That night, everyone heard the screams of a three-year-old girl resound throughout the establishment, and she was found in the middle of the hall with a desperate Seiji, saying that she had been playing with a poker and that she tripped, with it smacking part of her face.

Shoma began to startle every time someone moved near her, every time someone placed her hand on some part of her body, or when they called her, or when they approached her. She didn't separate from Yui or the sister she trusted so much, and even though it started to be annoying for Yui as she grew older, there were very few times when she was really rude to Shoma due to the fatigue of having her on her back every day three seconds, but they just didn't help Shoma with her fear of being alone, either with Seiji, or with certain nuns. The sister who had her trust steadfastly refused to leave her alone if she wasn't with Yui, although it was only because she slipped out of sight once.

Things escalated to the worse on December 12, 2006, at exactly a quarter past two in the morning. It was precisely an exhausting day for the girl, because the nun who was taking care of her and her sister had to leave due to family problems, or so they told her.

The albino-haired girl couldn't sleep due to some nightmares, even though she had become very habitual. The young woman began to hear murmurs and footsteps outside the room that she shared with Yui, and she could make out her father's voice. She could make out her desperate tone from her ... And, strangely, anger.

Carefully, she got out of her bed without making any noise, but following a little voice in her head, she took the camera that belonged to the blonde that was a gift from her only trusted caregiver, and opened slowly the door. Her father had locked himself in her office, and she could hear someone else's voice. On tiptoe, he approached the door ajar, and looked behind it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the body of one of the older girls on the ground, tied up and with blood pouring from her head. That memory is somewhat blurry, but it remembers very well various parts of the conversation between her father and a man with long hair. She took photos, and to her surprise, they did not have flash, and the photos came out perfectly ... That woman had many strange objects.

Once she finished, she turned, intending to leave, but one of the nuns spotted her, yelling to warn Seiji. Shoma wasted no time running and closing in on her sister's room, which she was awakened by her scream. Shoma told her everything quickly, leaving the photos to hide them, and the little girl didn't hesitate long to jump out the window (it was not the first time that she did that out of boredom), and she ran away from there. Still, the nun had gone ahead, and it wasn't long to be just a few steps away from her with her father's poker, part of them burning.

She remembers her sister with hatred seeing it all in horror and just standing there with the camera in her hands, shaking, to simply turn and turn her back on him.

In the blink of an eye, she was dragged by her hair by her "father" and other nuns, and before she had a chance to run away, the girl was thrown into the basement, away from other people, away from Yui, away from everyone. She tried to get out, scream, but no one ever came.

Nobody, nobody at all...

And here ends her story. The young woman, thanks to her curiosity, sealed her fate. She was destined to die in that place, even if she didn't want that, alone and starving, not knowing if Yui or someone would remember her...

But they say that there is always someone who takes care of us somewhere, right? Even if she has no hope... Maybe there really is someone, even without her knowing it.

#shoma komori #komori shoma #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #diavolik lovers #diabolik oc #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik #diaboliklovers #dia lovers #dialovers #describe your oc #oc info

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ofstrange · 3 years

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* ⠀ ☆ ⠀ ⠀ luca d’angelo, a character study.

ORIGINS & FAMILY.

Full Name: luca valentino d’angelo.

Reason for name: named after his dad’s brother who passed away when his dad was still a child. his mom also really loved the meaning, “bringer of light.”

Nickname(s): lou by his mother and sister, angelo by his bandmates.

Date of Birth: july 25th, 1996.

Age: twenty five.

Gender + Pronouns: cis man + he/him.

Place of birth: rome, italy.

Parents: beatrice and giancarlo d’angelo.

Siblings: luna d’angelo, younger sister.

Relationship with family (close? estranged?): was estranged from his parents for a few years because he resented the fact they sent him away but they’re on good terms now. has the best of relationships with his sister.

Pets: two cats, legolas and bidet.

PHYSICAL.

Height: 5 feet 9 inches.

Build: toned, athletic.

Nationality: italian-american.

Ethnicity: caucasian ( italian ).

Distinguishing Facial Features: long nose, chiseled cheekbones ( sculpted by the gods themselves ).

Hair Color: brown.

Usual Hair Style: ear length hair, slicked back ocasionally.

Eye Color: hazel.

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birthmarks, scars): soft slightly tanned skin, delicately cared for with many steps of skincare for years now. one small scar on his right knee from when he was a kid.

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): asthma.

What do they consider their best feature?: everything but especially his face features, his legs and his voice.

Worst they’ve ever been injured (what, how did it happen)?: broke his arm once while jumping a fence back in rome.

APPEARANCE.

Favorite outfit: nothing. for real, he would be naked all the time if it was allowed. but also likes to wear a lot of blazers and shirts or blouses that show just about enough of his body to make others interested.

Glasses? Contacts?: n/a.

Personal Hygiene: very through with his personal hygiene. bathes in cologne before he leaves the house and loves to keep his apartment as pristine as possible, especially since he has two cats.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: will always be seen with a necklace and earrings on. also loves to decorate his fingers with tons of rings. has several tattoos scattered across his torso, back and arms, four of which are matching with his bandmates. also has his nose and right nipple pierced.

What does their voice sound like?: soft spoken with a rasp to his tone, more pronounced and slow when he’s speaking in english. voice becomes deeper when he’s speaking his native language.

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): articulate, confident, can sometimes mix english and italian simply because he can’t be bothered to remember what’s the word in the current language he’s speaking.

Accent?: heavy italian accent.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits: gesticulates when talking and has to constantly check himself in the mirror.

Left handed or right?: right handed.

Do they work out/exercise?: at least twice a week.

BELIEFS & INTELLECT.

Known Languages: italian ( native ) and english ( fluent ).

Zodiac: leo sun, aries moon, scorpio rising.

Gifts/talents: singing, songwriting, making a mean old fashioned.

Religious stance: anti theist, rejects any sort of belief in the possibility of a high force or god because he went to a catholic boarding school and was shamed for his more “feminine” ways there.

Political stance: liberal.

Pet peeves: not being the center of attention.

Optimist or pessimist: little bit of both.

Extrovert or introvert: extrovert.

INTIMACY & RELATIONSHPS.

Relationship status: single.

Sexual orientation: pansexual and panromantic.

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: he isn’t interested in a mate, doesn’t even like to think about this question... someone kinder than him that makes him feel safe, loved and like he has an actual chance at redemption.

Ever been in love?: maybe.

What’s their love language?: quality time & gifts.

Most important person in their life?: his mother and sister.

VOCATION.

Level of education: high school.

Profession: bartender and musician ( on hiatus ).

Past occupations: barista.

Dream occupation: musician, model.

Passions: music, fashion, trouble.

Attitude towards current job: apathetic. keeps him entertained for the time being.

Spender or Saver? Why?: spender. never really learned how to properly manage his money.

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?: both.

SECRETS.

Phobias: loneliness, failure, death.

Life goals: following music as a career but that’s accomplished now. he doesn’t know what the future holds for him yet.

Greatest fears: having a boring life, not accomplishing enough, show vulnerability to others.

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her: when he first told someone that he loved them back when he was a teenager and they laughed at him. he never managed to tell anyone else that he loved them because of that.

Something they’ve never told anyone: luca has this constant need to be validated by strangers and take them to bed most nights to fill the giant void inside of him that he knows will never be filled by true love because he ruins everything and everyone he touches.

Biggest regret: breaking his ex-boyfriend’s heart and not paying enough attention to his drummer’s addiction.

Compulsions: smoking one cigarette after the other when he’s nervous.

Police/Criminal/Legal record: n/a. has managed to keep a clean record despite all of the stupid and illegal stuff he’s done in his teenage years.

Vices: despite his asthma, he has a bad nicotine addiction. has been a smoker for years now.

PREFERENCES.

Hobbies: drinking, partying, gossiping, annoying leo probably.

Favorite color: burgundy.

Favorite smell: musky cologne or whiskey.

Favorite food: his father’s melanzane di parmigiana. or just any homemade authentic italian dish, to be honest.

Favorite book: the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald.

Favorite movie: suspiria, the 1977 version.

Favorite song: the hand that feeds by nine inch nails.

Coffee or tea?: alcohol.

Favorite type of weather: chilly weather.

Most prized possession: a pair of old earrings that he stole from his nonna as a kid.

Most used word or phrase?: swear words or terms of endearment in italian.

#roswelltask #alcohol tw #* ⠀ ☆ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭 ⠀ ⠀ —— ⠀ ⠀ isms.

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dearest-bucky · 4 years

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Drunk in love (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you’re unable to confess your feelings for someone, do it drunk!

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: mentions of sex, like two sentences I think, drunk reader, kissing, fluff

A/N: All the fics I’ve written so far include sleeping, so if that doesn’t say something about my personality idk what does hahahh

Originally posted: March 9, 2020

Feedback is truly appreciated! xx

Bucky was no longer the young man from the 40’s, this much he knew. Decades of horror in the hands of HYDRA made sure of that. The flirty and carefree persona was replaced by a much darker version of himself. Where he used to be funny and loud, he was now broody and quiet. So of course, when it came to love too, he wasn’t used to having feelings of fluttering butterflies in his stomach or goosebumps on his skin anymore. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t have them at all. Also his physical needs, and man, did he have a lot!

That was another problem for him. After having returned from Wakanda and settling in the Avengers compound he tried as per Steve’s requests and pleas to socialize and get out more and try to gain his life again in this new age. Most of the things were strange to him, he couldn’t understand a lot of things about the new times he was thrown into to live, but one thing was clear as a blue summer sky: no woman would want to be with him intimately. He was a monster, undeserving of any feeling of care or love and his metal arm was the number one proof for it.

So when Sam suggested just “hiring” someone to have sex with him, Bucky nearly choked on the sip of water he just took.

“No way in hell I’m doing that.” He rejected categorically Sam’s idea. “I’d rather go through Hydra’s torture all over again than pay someone to sleep with me. That’s just…” Not finding the right word to describe what he thought about Sam’s idea, he let out a long sigh and took another sip of water.

“Well, I tried my best.” Sam shrugged and left the living room, leaving Bucky behind only with his bottle of water and his thoughts.

It was ridiculous, really. He wouldn’t do something like that never in a million years. It was stupid of Sam to even mention it. But the more he thought about it, the more the idea sparkled an interest in him.

He couldn’t say he was doing fine on his own. He was horny all the time and now the porn and his hand weren’t doing it anymore for him. No matter how much he tried to deny it, or say that he was doing fine by himself, he really needed the feeling of intimacy that only came with another person, having them in his arms, bodies tangled and limbs messy from all the sexual activities he’d been craving, lately more than ever.

He was sitting alone on the small couch, kind of lost in his own head, when he heard three different feminine voices enter the room he was in. Their voices were not necessarily loud, but still cheery. He snapped his head in their direction, only to be met with the curious eye of Natasha Romanoff, followed behind by Wanda and Y/n.

Now if there was someone so perfect Bucky would totally lose his mind and his cool, was Y/n. He was totally enamored with her and she had no idea at all about any of it. She actually never even spent one minute more than socially necessary to talk to him. Of course, when all the team got together they would hang out, but she never really showed the slightest interest in him, so Bucky just kept his mouth shut and adored her from afar.

The three women greeted him and went about their business, moving to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet and back to their conversation. They were sitting around the kitchen counter, nursing each a glass in their hands and talking about whatever, Bucky wasn’t paying any mind to their words. He was busy himself thinking about what to do with his situation. Eventually he got up and left the room without a word, after all, no one asked him where he was going.

When Natasha saw his tall figure get up from the place he had occupied earlier and leave the room altogether, she smirked and turned her full attention to y/n, her eyes piercing like daggers through her skull.

“So, will you ever do anything about your silly crush on Barnes?” She asked in a taunting manner and y/n nearly choked on her drink, her eyes wide with horror.

“Shhh.. Will you shh.. omg!!”

“Relax, he left.” Natasha replied and winked at her. “So?”

Wanda was uncharacteristically quiet, considering she always had something to say when it came to Bucky and y/n’s silly crush on him. This time she let Natasha do the work for her too.

“I don’t know what do you want me to say Nat. There’s nothing to do about anything.” If anything, y/n was disappointed too with everything going on between her and Bucky, or better the lack thereof.

She had been harboring a huge crush on the guy ever since Steve brought him to the compound, but she never dared to say or do anything about it, for several reasons. First she didn’t want to come off as too strong, not wanting to scare the poor man. He had been through enough, she didn’t want to make him feel awkward or anything. Then after all the time hiding her feelings and pretending there was nothing, she just became too good at it and she never found the courage to do anything to change it, already comfortable with the situation that was going on.

Everything was fine and quiet and comfortable between them, and most importantly neither weird nor awkward, so she didn’t want to mess anything up.

However, it was getting more difficult everyday to keep a nonchalant composure around him when all she wanted to do is wrap herself around him and lose themselves in each other.

Nat sighed and gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Let’s drink.” She announced and they bottomed up their glasses, getting a refill immediately.

It was a quiet off evening so what better plan than to get drunk? And it was working so far. They had been drinking all kinds of alcoholic beverages for more than four hours, and only near midnight when they started to lose the balance on their seats and started slurring out the words they were saying, did they decide to call it a night and head to their own rooms.

Y/n was walking slowly to her bedroom, not sure she was in the right direction, but she decided to trust her shaky drunk feet and let them lead her.

She was just turning around the corner of the hall to get to her room when she collided with a strong mass of muscle and was nearly falling on her ass from the impact if it wasn’t for Bucky’s strong hands gripping her upper arms tightly and keeping her steady on her feet.

Bucky couldn’t shut his eyes, neither his mind. Sam’s words ringing in his head, and a certain part of his body very much awake too. He didn’t want to think of it, so he got up from his bed and headed to the kitchen, maybe if he grabbed something to eat he’d go to sleep easily.

He was surprised to see y/n was awake, even less up and still walking around the compound at this hour, considering how late it was, but he couldn’t help the flutter his heart did when they bumped into each other.

He was very aware of how close she was and he couldn’t help himself but want to touch her and kiss her and make her his. He was desperate. He was craving her like the oxygen he needed to breathe.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked shyly and she just stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise, as if seeing him right now was the last thing she ever thought could happen.

She nodded her head slowly and closed her eyes for a second, only to open them again and keep staring at him.

“I’m more than okay. I’m fine. I’m so fine. You know, just so very fine.” She kept talking, repeating the word fine.

“A very fine woman.” She concluded. “Don’t you think?” She asked him in all seriousness and Bucky just gaped at her, suddenly at a loss for words.

He didn’t know what to say and he was starting to feel self-conscious, but that didn’t last long because she erupted in giggles like a schoolgirl. Bucky didn’t know what was so funny, but he thought the sounds leaving her lips were the cutest he had ever heard.

She kept giggling and placed a hand on his cheek, getting too close to his body, too dangerously close, but only then she smelled the alcohol in her breath and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Y/n, are you drunk?”

Her eyes widened in fake shock and she leaned in closer, puffing out a breath in his face and then getting in a fit of giggles again. “How did you know?”

He sighed and tried to create some distance between them. “You should go to sleep.” He said in a small but determined voice.

Y/n only scoffed in annoyance but didn’t say anything, she let go of him and started walking to the previous direction she was headed. Bucky eyed her for a moment before letting out a short sigh and following her.

“Your room is the other way.” He commented dryly.

She turned around and gasped in surprise, as if she didn’t know he was there.

“Oh, Bucky!” She exclaimed happily and threw her arms around his neck, kind of hanging all of her weight on him.

“I can’t find my room.” Her voice was just a whisper this time as she eyed him.

“C'mon I’ll take you to your room.”

Bucky was trying to help her to her feet but she wasn’t having any of it, weighing down more on him, arms having gripped tightly around him.

“Why don’t you take me to your room?” She eyed him curiously, waiting for his answer.

Never in a million years he would have expected her to say something like that. Now that those words actually left her lips he had to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and helped her up, standing straight and supporting her own weight.

“You don’t mean that y/n.” It was all he managed to spit out as an answer.

Her brows furrowed and she pouted, actually pouted her lips. Bucky thought she hadn’t looked more adorable than in that moment. He wanted to kiss her pout off her pretty face, he wanted so badly, but he couldn’t.

She was just drunk and not in the right mind, that’s why she was saying what she was saying.

She sighed, looking upset at his reaction, but didn’t let go of him anyway, her arms still snaking around his neck, locked behind his head securely. She moved her face slowly toward his, and without breaking eye contact, she decided to open all of her cards to him.

“Oh, but I do.”

They were just four little words and was she not drunk she would never say them out loud, but she had been drinking a lot tonight so she decided to gather all of her alcohol courage and go with it.

They were just four little words but they turned Bucky’s world upside down, and he didn’t hesitate for even one more second before he crashed his lips to hers, kissing her hungrily, all tongue and teeth. The best thing about it was that y/n was all too eager to reciprocate.

His hands got locked on her hair, tipping her head a little up to gain more access and to deepen the kiss. He was so lost in the moment, in her lips, in her taste; he didn’t want this to be over.

But soon her hands were roaming his body and they were tugging at his shirt, trying to take it off, and only then Bucky came to his senses, cutting off the kiss. They were both panting heavily and Bucky reached to stop her still moving hands.

“Wait, wait…” He breathed out. “We can’t. Y/n..”

She was having none of it, trying to kiss down his neck, her hands trying to free themselves from his hold, to continue their path on his body, but Bucky was stronger than her. It took all of his will to get away from her and create some distance between them, but he had to do it.

“We can’t do this.” Y/n whined and she opened her eyes slowly to meet his.

“Why not?” She asked. “I want you.”

Her words were shocking to him. She wanted him? He wanted her. He had wanted her for so long and all this time she wanted him too. He couldn’t resist those eyes and those hands and those lips but he couldn’t do anything with her while she was drunk. He didn’t want to take advantage of her.

He was trying so hard to find the right words to say, to not upset her, but he was failing miserably. She quickly let go of him and looked at him all sad, like a kicked up puppy.

“You don’t want me?”

He didn’t answer. He wanted to, but no words were leaving his mouth.

“Oh my God!” She sighed. “That’s it right, you don’t want me.”

She separated herself from him and looked down, defeated. “I’m sorry, I just made a fool of myself.” She whispered and turned the other way to get to her room this time.

She had just walked three or four steps before Bucky called her name, his hand catching her wrist and turning her again to face him. She was just looking at him expectantly, not saying a word.

It was difficult to put all that he was feeling into words, so he just did what he thought would be the first way to let her know. He closed the distance with her again and kissed her, this time slow, sweetly, almost peacefully.

When the broke it off a long sigh of relief escaped y/n’s lips and Bucky smiled at that.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He said softly and she nodded her head, eyes still closed. He scooped her in his arms and made his way to her room.

The walk there was short and y/n couldn’t help but whine lowly when Bucky placed her on her bed and tucked her in.

“Bucky will you sleep with me?” She asked when he turned around to leave her room.

He sighed, tired, not knowing how he was able to resist her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea y/n. You’re drunk and I don’t want you to do anything you might regret tomorrow.”

Her eyes sparkled for a second, apparently an idea popped in her head and she smiled sweetly at him.

“I know, I know. You’re too much of a gentleman to have sex with me while I’m drunk.” She said and Bucky gaped at her for being so forward. “But we can do that tomorrow when we’re both sober.” She continued with a wink. “Tonight we just sleep.”

He smiled at her and nodded his head. “Okay.”

With that he got under the covers with her, and y/n didn’t miss a second before she crawled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, arm circling his torso. With that she let out a soft sigh and it wasn’t long before Bucky could hear her soft snores.

After all, maybe there was someone who could love him and make love to him without feeling grossed out by his metal arm or his scars. Maybe he just hadn’t looked in the right place.

He smiled to himself and let himself fall asleep next to her.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

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shypotato-translations · 3 years

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QTVW Chapter 24

Showbiz* Sexy Queen (XI)

----

After Mei Mu Lan hung up the phone, she opened the webpage and searched for the novel 《Love in a Fallen City》.

As mentioned in the plot, Bai Jieying, a newcomer to the industry, became a sensation after appearing in this controversial film.

And just now Miss S called, informing her to go to Ling's Group tomorrow, the entertainment company's drama team for an audition.

This coincided with her intentions, so she opened the pages of the novel now, and carefully read through, the subject of the novel is lesbianism, 《Love in a Fallen City》.

Love in a Fallen City, a novel set in the early Republic of China; The story takes place in Hangzhou, an ancient water town; The protagonist of the story is the wife of the second son of the local warlord Xiao Sheng Yan.

The wife of the Major, who was a second generation warlord along with her husband, was of noble birth. She is the ninth daughter of Ling Ye Chong, the warlord of the southwest region, and the only legitimate daughter among Ling Ye Chong's 18 daughters. A much higher status than her other sisters.

Although the two Xiao Ling families were married out of interest, the newlyweds were a good match for each other.

And the her husband who is a Major, the second son of Xiao Shi Yan, was a dashing and suave-looking man who fought heroically and was, by all accounts, a wonderful man.

But naturally, such a man has a downside: he is lustful and likes to abuse his partner.

This hobby of Xiao Er Shao's was harmless to the society of the time.

And when he was confronted with the wife of the famous Major, he could not lay hands on her out of love and reason.

Therefore, he left the lady cold and spent many years in the company of playboys and prostitutes, which made her cold to him.

The story opens with the lady sitting on a carved wooden stool, wearing a goose-yellow antique dress and a wooden face as she allows her maid to do her make-up.

Listening to the maid's report of Xiao Er Shao's whereabouts in her ears, like,

“The young master has gone drinking again today,”

“The young master has played with his hands again today,”

“The young master is throwing his money away again today for a 'thing',”……

The lady looked at her reflection in the bronze mirror, the flowery beauty in it, but now her heart was as dry as a half-hundred-year-old woman's.

A young girl, as young as a flower, is tortured by this feudal society and has lost her vitality.

And it was on such early mornings as these for three years that the maid mentioned a woman, a beauty much loved by her own husband, a singing opera singer of unclean origins.

She smiled softly as she listened to the hilarity and said,

“The right way to be a wife is not to be jealous or afraid. I don't blame my husband for being sentimental, he's at that age, he loves to play, so let him go, it's just a thing. If he likes it, he can take it into his house and no one can say a word against it. All right, it's almost time to go and pay my respects to the old lady, let's go.”

The 'thing' that the lady refers to is the other female lead in the story, the lover with whom the lady is entangled for life.

The story shifts perspective to a woman in a large red costume behind a noisy theater stage in the downtown area, now holding a black ink pencil and tracing narrow eyeliner for herself.

The troupe master beside her also muttered to her about this young man who had been so generous recently.

She listened unconcernedly, her hands flowing with makeup, and when she heard the troupe master mention the man's wife, the woman finally felt a little different emotion.

She smiled lightly and said,

“The woman in such a deep house is most uninteresting. From what you are saying, this Major's wife is not a small person. But even if she is the daughter of the Emperor, she is nothing more than a plaything for men to hold in their hands. We are both women, but one is a high-class prostitute and the other a slightly lower class.

I hope this young lady will not be like those ladies before her who could not control their own men and went after men's women, which is really annoying.”

Two women responding very differently to the same incident.

One is as cool as an immortal, the other is as feminine as a demon.

It left a little mark on each other's hearts, so much so that when they first met later, they couldn't help but feel close to each other.

The lady relieves the theater's chastising punishment for the ladies, and the theater's son settles the city's ruffians for the lady; two seemingly worlds apart, and so they cross paths.

One is the wife of a noble and noble family Major, and the other is a lowly opera singer who is trampled on by others. They experience the sweetness of meeting, knowing, companioning, cherishing and loving each other, and the pain of clinging, thinking, remembering and wanting to say goodbye.

Because of the difference in their status, they could only see each other a few times a year, and the rest of the time they were in brocade, but this forbidden love affair brought both of them to life.

The lady refuses to share her bed with Xiao Er Shao for this reason, and is treated coldly by her husband's family, making her life worse every day.

The opera singer refused to share a bed with a wealthy guest for this reason and was tortured by the troupe, in a state of wretchedness worse than death.

Finally, the women decide that they will do something shocking, and that is to elope together and settle down to farm in the opera singer's hometown.

They looked forward to a bright future with each other and each escaped their shackles one winter's day, but the very moment they escaped to embrace each other, both parties sent someone after them.

Xiao Er Shao's face turned blue when he saw the two embracing each other.

How could he let them go when one was his legitimate wife and the other was a opera singer whom he truly loved and now, they were together, making him the laughing stock of everyone?!

He ordered the underlings of the Xiao Family, and took the lady back by force, while the opera singer was beaten alive with sticks by the underlings.

Blood stained the clean white snow, splattered out like cold winter plums, falling and falling, bodies left unmanaged and finally bones.

When the lady learned of this incident, she went mad, but begged for death and was severely tortured by Xiao Er Shao.

She spent every day and night alone in a cold, crumbling house, begging for her life and unable to die.

Until she met the opera singer in red, pale and with crimson lips, a month later on a bloody night, when she winked at her and babbled and sang a soft song under her breath.

Towards the end of the song, her flirtatious phoenix eyes, moist with moisture, stared at her as she said to her,

“Cease to be like this and live.”

The Major's wife began to regain her senses, and because she herself was of noble birth, the people of the Xiao Family couldn't just club her to death like they did with the opera singer, but had to go out of their way to cover up and pretend that the incident had never happened.

The Major's wife, a woman from the deep house of yore, but different again from before, has an additional female ghost in red in her room.

When no one is around, they will snuggle, they will compose songs together, they will be in love.

Doing all the things that lovers everywhere, would do.

Until Xiao suffered defeat, all Xiao's men died in battle, the revolutionary army defeated the warlords and stragglers broke into Xiao's residence.

The ladies live in a trance, rejecting the reality of the Xiao House's decay, while the servants carry their bags and scurry around for their lives.

Once again the Lady sat in front of the mirror, an unseen hand, holding a brush, tracing gently over her pale face.

From top to bottom, the inky eyebrows, the slightly powdered blush and the sweet red lips are a living example of a pretty girl from back in the day.

The lady smiled lightly and changed into a red dress, and the house burned naturally with no one in the second young lady's room in the Xiao residence.

Under the bright flames, a beautiful woman in red can be clearly seen, wrapping her arms around a woman in a long goose yellow dress, slowly swaying and dancing, embracing each other intimately and kissing deeply.

The story ends with excerpts from the novel. Written is:

From a family dinner in spring, one plays out life and death on stage, while the other dresses up as a virtuous wife offstage.

By the cold night of the ninth month, one was intercepted by a domestic servant inside the fence and the other was brutally beaten to death outside the fence.

In the old theater, a woman's watery sleeves danced and her feet moved; a woman's mouth smiled and her feelings were deep. To look at each other is to have no regrets about true love.

Mei Mu Lan's eyes were dazed, emotionally trapped in the story, unable to pull out of it for several days.

She closed the webpage and lay back** with her eyes closed, a story like this, it did hit home, Miss S's writing was excellent, she really wrote this story from an outsider's point of view.

In her writing, each person is portrayed vividly, and a scene of the Republic leaps into the reader's mind.

She doesn't stand up for the state and try to put a sacred veil on this fringe romance; she simply depicts a story that feels like an event that actually happened in the Republic.

In the midst of the Republic, when times were up and down and in turmoil**, everything changed, but only the relationship between the lady and the opera singer remained the same.

They experience great sorrow, great joy, great ups and downs, and every chapter of the story depicts the cold reality.

But, near the end, she recounts the transformation of the opera singer into a ghost, and the novel after this describes the happy life between them.

But, unfortunately, everyone else in the story, and the readers outside of it, all know that the opera singer may be a figment of the Lady's imagination after she has gone mad.

But, it is this plausible description, punctuated by joy against sorrow, that gives the story an unconventional and sublime ending.

The happiness visible in the story, at the end when the two are buried in the fire, the reader's heart unconsciously breathes a sigh of relief for the Lady, thinking: at last it is over, at least the Lady thinks they are living together.

The opera singer at the end paints the lady's make-up and she smiles in the light of the fire, sharing a poignant ending.

A lady in a large courtyard, deprived of the freedom of her body and firmly imprisoned by feudal society; a lowly opera singer in the marketplace, deprived of the freedom of her mind and oppressed by those around her every day.

These are two ordinary women who lived in that particular era, representing two classes.

The women under such oppression fall in love and their lives are rejuvenated, giving rise to the most sincere love, but this emotion meets with social barriers and ends up as a tragedy rather than joy, leaving the reader with a shocking and sorrowful ending.

Mei Mu Lan took a few deep breaths to ease her mind and she began to think calmly.

The novel is about to be turned into a far-reaching film, and in the plot of the novel, it is mentioned that Bai Jieying ends up as the lady in the 《Love in a Fallen City》, while Ling Yi Yao becomes the opera singer in it.

And now, with her ambition for the film, then, after considering her own strengths, she chose to go for the role of the opera singer.

And the next morning, she went to the place where Miss S had agreed.

By the time she arrived on set, the crew had already begun auditions and she was greeted, taken straight to Miss S and then dragged off to have her make-up applied.

This was followed by an ethnic opera which she sang in front of many invested parties.

Her fluent singing voice, vivid expressions and agile figure overwhelmed everyone in the audience in a flash. And she was successfully selected to be an acting actress within the cast of the play.

Mui Mu Lan had been made to look like a fool today by Miss S. By the time she got back to her senses, she heard the news that she had been selected and she grinned broadly with excitement.

After verbally thanking Miss S, she immediately returned to Jiangnan Town, where she knocked on the door and walked into Ling Yi Yao's villa to tell Ling Yi Yao the good news that she had been chosen as an opera singer.

After hearing this, Ling Yi Yao had a strange expression on her face, and under Mei Mu Lan's persistent questioning, she replied,

“Congratulations, Miss Mei, at the same time. Your co-star in this film, unfortunately, is me.”

Mei Mu Lan understood the meaning of her words and immediately jumped up and said,

“Great, you're playing the role of the Major's wife, aren't you? The casting people had a good eye, they could tell right away that we were a couple.”

Ling Yi Yao: “……”

Suddenly, Mei Mu Lan covered her mouth in shyness as she stared at Ling Yi Yao, her eyes cooing and darting about.

Ling Yi Yao suddenly felt a chill run down her spine, and she had an ominous feeling.

Sure enough, Mei Mu Lan said 'shyly' in the next moment,

“Oh, it's written that they did this and that, and the opera singer did this and that to the lady, so I can do that to you too, come on, don't be shy, let's rehearse this and that so we don't get rusty when we're acting.”

Ling Yi Yao: “……” Lifting Mei Mu Lan's collar with one hand, she threw her out the door.

#shypotato #yuri #transmigration #world hopping #QTVW24

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thelandofall05 · 3 years

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Geometry in motion: Abstract painting in Nathan Chen's programs

It should be remembered that a picture – before being a war-horse, a nude, or an anecdote of some sort – is essentially a flat surface covered with colours assembled in a certain order,

– Maurice Denis, French symbolist painter.

Abstract art (from Latin “abstractus” – “drawn away”) is a non-figurative, non-objective art, where artists distance themselves from objective referents and use the visual language of colorful splashes, lines, geometric elements in various combinations. Abstract art has many styles: abstract expressionism, suprematism, geometric abstraction, op art, etc. This genre uses colorful shapes instead of realistic images. Wassily Kandinsky, one of the founding fathers of abstract art, believed that one should not analyze paintings objectively, but an effect on the emotions of the observer.

Abstract artists aspired to perceive the world with all its phenomena, forms and colors. One of the main ideas of abstract art is the fusion of painting and music. Kandinsky described Richard Wagner as his inspiration. Dutch painter Piet Mondrian was fond of modern rhymes, jazz and boogie-woogie, and named his canvases after music pieces.

Figure skating is an amalgamation of music, image, choreography and technique. The debate on what is essential in the fusion of the athletic and the artistic sides is going to go on forever. Like abstract art, figure skating consists of prescribed elements such as jumps, spins, steps, and turns that strictly comply with the rules and, at the same time, appeal to the emotions of the audience. Skaters develop their own style and become true artists and creators.

For example, the American skater Nathan Chen is famous for his minimalist costumes and for building his programs around abstract images rather than a specific character. Nathan chooses music with short but memorable titles (Nemesis, Caravan, La Boheme, Rocketman), tries himself in various genres (soul, jazz, chanson, flamenco) and expresses a wide range of emotions in his programs.

Like many abstract artists with a solid background in traditional art and impeccable technique, in years as a junior Nathan performed classical programs. He also tried his hand at iconic references, like Michael Jackson and did so brilliantly. However, can we call him an abstract artist now? Well, why not. For him the ice becomes a canvas, technical elements turn into a palette of colors, and the athlete’s body transforms into a tool that creates the masterpiece.

photo cred. Toshifumi Kitamura / Getty Images

Suprematism is an art movement that uses geometric abstraction in combinations of basic figures like circles, squares, lines, and rectangles painted in various colors. Suprematists reject all references to the figurative world and “earthly” meanings. Their paintings lack directions of up and down, left and right. Like in outer space, all directions are equal. The experience of color and shape is processed through the lens of the observer’s internal world. Malevich's "Black Square" is the symbol of Russian avant-garde and one of the most famous paintings in the world of art.

Just like the “Black Square" was Malevich's calling card, Nathan's short program “Nemesis” (music by Benjamin Clementine, choreography by Shae-Lynn Bourne) is the most recognizable in the skater’s career. Like a magnet, it captures attention of the audience at the rink as well as the ones watching the livestream. The simple costume, the sharp movements, the performance full of rebellion – all had the energy of a diamond in the rough of the rarest black color. Here Nathan is not a lyrical hero. Instead, like a suprematist, he portrays a strong emotion and ignites intense feelings to the powerful vocals of Benjamin Clementine. Nathan named “Nemesis” his favorite program where he could be himself. The skater flies over the ice with the resolve of an inescapable fate, reminding us that Nemesis was the goddess of revenge and the mother of karma (Nemesis is, Nemesis is, Nemesis is the mother of Karma). And like the “Black Square”, one can love or hate this program, but it is impossible to forget.

photo cred. Icon Sportswire / Getty Images

One of the ideas of abstract expressionism was to abandon structured composition and to produce large-scale, non-objective imagery. This movement developed in the United States and was considered purely American in spirit, being monumental, romantic and highlighting the serious questions of individual freedom. Barnett Newman believed that an artist is a choreographer of space. He infused his paintings with harsh flat color, thus predating the minimalist artists. A distinctive feature of his works – the so-called “zipper" – defined the structure of the paintings.

The music from the movie “Desierto” accompanies Nathan’s long program “Land of All” (music by Woodkid, choreography by Marie-France Dubreuil and Samuel Chouinard). The movie tells us about the fates of immigrants in the United States. Chen said he was not aiming to cover this topic and fill his performance with political meaning. Instead the program highlights the subject of individual freedom with the key message clearly stated in the lyrics (I came to break the wall that rose around you to see the land of all). The dark, gloomy atmosphere of the program foreshadows the danger and suggests seeking a way out. Newman said that we are making cathedrals “out of ourselves, out of our own feelings”. In his long program beginning with the lyrics "I took a chance to build a world of mine", Nathan showed that the solution lies in the individual freedom, in the freedom to choose and to express oneself.

photo cred. Raj Mehta / USA TODAY Sports

The term “hard-edge painting” was coined by the writer, curator and the Los Angeles Times art critic Jules Langsner. While studying the works of several painters, he found something they had in common, namely a particular sharpness of edge and a clarity of color. This style of painting developed among Californian painters as their reaction to the more painterly or gestural forms of abstract expressionism. At that time Langsner worked on an exhibition, featuring works of Karl Benjamin. This exhibition was called the “California Hard edge”.

The short program “Caravan” (music by Duke Ellington performed by Fanfare Ciocărlia, choreography by Shae-Lynn Bourne) is another iconic program of Nathan’s. The idea of the program belonged to the choreographer. Nathan described this program as a fun opportunity to dance to the music that people would actually want to dance to. Interestingly, Nathan chose the long program music in contrast to the short one. A simple costume and his naughty curls, high technical difficulty and the evocative footwork full of playful choreography, Western jazz flavored with notes of the East – all these make “Caravan” the cheerful and sunny performance that you would enjoy watching over and over again.

photo cred. Margarita (zhem_chug) Voronkovskaya

Action painting is a genre in which the paint is spontaneously splashed or dribbled onto the canvas. The finished painting becomes a physical manifestation of art. It seems that an artist acts unconsciously, bringing their pure emotions to the canvas. They create a painting publicly, making a kind of performance from their actions and splashes of paint. Jackson Pollock, being one of the best known representatives of the movement, considered his style of work spontaneous and emotional. He defined it as "a natural growth out of a need", when spontaneous painting was directed by the subconscious instruments of creativity.

Nathan’s long program “Rocketman” (soundtrack to the movie “Rocketman”, choreography by Marie-France Dubreuil and Samuel Chouinard) can be regarded as an anthem to movement and athleticism. Complicated jumps matching music accents required lots of strength and concentration from the athlete, at the same time preparing the audience for the blast of emotions in the final choreographic sequence. His loose hip-hop movements had an organic quality of a dance floor improvisation. His passionate performance brought the house down again and again. In the act of creation the skater turned the ice into the canvas, splashing steps and turns like paint. And only when the music ended could the athlete and the audience breathe out. The program can be divided into two emotionally different parts. At first the skater presents the audience with a series of gorgeous quad jumps that set the rhythm of the performance like a metronome. And then he launches the explosive choreography of his final choreo sequence in the end.

photo cred. Jay Adeff / U.S. Figure Skating

The term “neoplasticism” was coined by an artist named Piet Mondrian. The guiding principle of the style was the dynamic equality of the horizontal and vertical lines painted with the primary blue, red, and yellow. Mondrian created his unique works from the basic geometric compositions. He perceived the world as a contrast of the vertical and the horizontal, the positive and the negative, the masculine and the feminine. The asymmetry of figures that we see in his paintings symbolizes unity and synergy of the Universe. The works of Mondrian influenced many contemporary artists. Many styles of modern art like minimalism and pop art hail back to Mondrian and the "De Stijl" group.

In Nathan's long program of the 2020/2021 season (Selections from Philipp Glass, choreography by Shae-Lynn Bourne) the first thing that immediately catches one’s attention is the bright royal blue color of the shirt and absence of decoration except one vertical line of the same royal blue but of a different fabric. Mondrian considered the vertical line to be a symbol of masculinity. According to him it began at the center of the Sun. This is a totally abstract program without a specific name or character. The spectators get neither hints nor limits and decide themselves whether they are watching a lyrical tale, or an attempt to find oneself, or a portrayal of the power of nature. The energy of an entire ocean is hidden in simple sounds, smooth movements and restrained expressiveness. And at any moment the ocean can turn violent and merciless. No wonder that as the admirer of the Dutch artist, the skater chose the music of the minimalist composer for his long program. Like Piet Mondrian, Nathan Chen creates his own minimalist aesthetic of movement.

***

Studying the history of abstract art we can conclude that there were several reasons for this style to develop. The hope for changes in the pre-revolutionary society was one of them. At the beginning of the 20th century lots of people were tired of the dominant traditions in the way of life in general and in the arts in particular. They desired something new. The abstract art, which some would consider a kind of art extremism, gave them what they wanted. Without exaggeration abstract art became a new era in painting.

The changes that are currently happening in figure skating can be undoubtedly called a technical revolution. No one is surprised by quadruple jumps and their quantity, or the age and gender of the skaters. It seems very soon everything will be attainable for everyone. Nathan is one of the pioneers of this revolution. In his programs he shows that athletes can be great technicians AND artists on the ice. And like true artists, athletes can now shed past restrictions and express themselves freely, showing all kinds of emotions, thoughts, and feelings in their programs.

#figure skating #nathan chen #team usa

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drsilverfish · 5 years

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The Rupture/ The Rapture - Subtextual Grammar and Castiel’s Relationship to Dean in 15x03

Hey everyone,

Catching up British time and just seen the ep, so looking forward to seeing all your posts and gifs shortly! Firstly, some musings of my own.

Has Berens’ ripped everyone’s hearts out already? That’s some pretty potent symbolism right there for heartbreak huh? (Sorry Ketch):

The Rupture recalls, in subtext, through visual symbolism, Castiel’s long narrative journey in relation to Dean. So that Dean and Cas’ break-up, already foreshadowed by Chuck and Amara’s “divorce” in Reno last week, at the end of the episode (for those following the symbolism) is given extra punch.

Firstly, the title, The Rupture 15x03 deliberately recalls, following Dabb’s ouroboros (circular/ spiral) narrative structure, The Rapture 4x20. That episode was critical for Dean and Castiel’s relationship. Castiel rebelled against Heaven and entered Dean’s dreams (his intimate space) in order to try to warn him about the angels’ plans by passing him a love note:

In the subtextual grammar of the show, that pier incident, has become a symbol of Dean and Castiel’s intimate connection. For example in 14x10 Nihilism, you can see a pier at sunset with a figure standing on it in the background on the wall, behind Dean’s mind-Pamela:

And remember, mind-Pamela profoundly represents Dean’s feelings for Castiel in that episode. Recall her costume, with the winged necklace and the T-shirt symbolising Dean’s salvation from Hell by Cas? And mind-Pamela, in Rocky’s Bar, is someone Dean wants, but thinks he can’t have.

Of course, Castiel was dragged back to Heaven and punished for his disobedience in 4x20 The Rapture, yet, eventually, as we know, he rebelled again and chose to help Dean over Heaven. So, when Berens recalls The Rapture in his episode title, The Rupture, it is to remind us just how much Castiel has sacrificed for Dean.

“I rebelled, and I did it, all of it.... for you” (5x02 Good God Y’All).

As Cas said to Dean last week, in 15x02 Raising Hell, what’s “real”, despite Chuck’s machinations?: “We are.”

Cas can see (at that point) that his connection to Dean has profound meaning, at least for him (a profound bond, indeed) because Dean helped Cas finally break free of Heaven’s control. Something (we learn in 8x21 The Great Escapist) that Cas had been trying over and over to do for aeons, only to be mind-wiped and re-programmed again and again. Naomi tries to torture re-programme Cas, yet again, in 8x17 Goodbye Stranger, by getting him to murder endless Dean clones in Heaven (making it very clear that the source of Castiel’s free will and resistance is his connection to Dean specifically). BUT Cas’ bond with Dean is too strong, and he breaks free of Naomi’s conditioning when faced with the real Dean, bloodied and on his knees, telling him: “I need you.”

If anything in Chuck’s multiverse symbolises free will it is Castiel’s rebellion against Heaven for Dean.

What Cas isn’t clear on, by 15x03, is that the “profound bond” continues to have any meaning for Dean himself. As he says, bitterly to Belphegor:

Cas: “Sam and Dean are just using you. Don’t mistake that for caring about you, because I an assure you, they don’t.”

Bel: “Wow, you learn that the hard way?”

The symbolism, of Castiel’s journey in relation to Dean, continues in 15x03 in the visual grammar, as we see Cas, literally, jumping into Hell:

which of course recalls what we all know so well - that Cas fought his way into Hell and rescued Dean from Alastair’s clutches and resurrected him:

Castiel (to Dean): “When we discovered Lilith’s plan for you, we laid siege to Hell, and we fought our way to get to you...” (4x16 On the Head of a Pin).

This shot of Dean and Cas together in 15x03, literally at Hell’s mouth, with a gravestone between them, likewise symbolises that event (Castiel’s resurrection of Dean from Hell) as well as the present “death” of their relationship:

So, it’s no accident that the magical object Castiel is tricked by Belphegor into retrieving from Hell in 15x03 is Lilith’s crook. Because (as in the 4x16 quote above) Lilith was the demon who worked to ensure Dean was dragged to Hell, to be broken by Alastair (whom Belphegor re-mentioned, also not by accident, in 15x01 Back and to the Future) thus breaking the first seal to jumpstart Lucifer’s return and the apocalypse.

All these reminders of Castiel’s significance to Dean, of Castiel’s salvation of Dean, of how they averted Chuck’s apocalpyse before (in S5), together, at the very moment of their break-up....

So, when we see Castiel on his knees in Hell, reluctantly singing a praise hymn in Enochian to Lucifer in order to achieve access to Lilith’s crook, aka magic horn? (Belphegor explicitly refers to the crook as a “horn”).

Well, in subtext, the magic horn (Lilith’s crook) can be read as a sexual metaphor.

This symbolism is the juxtaposition of the sacred and the profane - an angel at prayer in Hell.

And following the shot of Cas kneeling in Hell, we get this shot of Dean, looking down into the Hell-mouth...

A visual reversal of Castiel’s rescue of Dean from Hell in S4.

Castiel passes the “magic horn” to the demon wearing the body of his beloved son, Jack:

Jack who always, in subtext, symbolised the (forbidden) love between Dean and Castiel (his adoptive parents) because, as a Nephilim, he was the product of (forbidden) human-angel congress.

Here at the start of S15, we know Castiel is losing his angelic powers after trying to heal Sam’s God-wound, and the show has previously been quite clear that becoming human entangles Cas in the world of human sexuality. We’ve seen that in 5x04 The End with Castiel and the orgies he shares with Future!Dean:

And we also saw it (crudely drawn by Bucklemming) in 9x03 I’m No Angel, when newly fallen Human!Cas has survival sex with the Reaper possessing April (yes, ugh - consent issues all round):

Belphegor pleading with Cas in Jack’s voice reminds us of everything Jack meant to Cas. Cas, after all, once towed Heaven’s party line and regarded Nephilim as “abominations”. We saw that in 8x22 Clip Show, when Metatron inveigled Cas into killing a Nephilim, in order to obtain her heart, for his (subtext-heavy) angel-fall spell, and we also saw it in the flash-back sequences in 12x10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets when Cas believed Akobel deserved to die for (supposedly) fathering a Nephilim child with Lily.

What was once profane to Cas has become sacred.

Jack, and loving Jack, represented (among other things) for Castiel, some kind of accommodation with his own secret heart. If the child of an angel (Lucifer, no less) and a human could NOT be a monster, then maybe an angel loving a human might not be monstrous either, despite Heaven’s edicts.

But then Jack (apparently) killed Mary, and the Winchester family, whose always previously shaky membership (for Cas), Jack’s co-adoption with Sam and Dean had cemented for him, was blown apart.

In 15x03 Cas is forced to kill Belphegor wearing the body of Jack:

And the death of Jack’s Nephilim (human-angel union) image, becomes, in the visual grammar, a metaphor for the death of Castiel’s hope of any continuing union between him and Dean - the death, on Dean’s part, Cas believes, of the profound bond. Hence we get a corpse-shot:

And Castiel’s tears:

Castiel echoes (having absorbed them) Dean’s unkind (grief-stricken) words to him from 14x18 Absence, “You’re dead to me!”

Cas (to Dean): “I’m dead to you.” (15x03).

After everything they’ve been through together (to Hell and back, as carefully illustrated in the visual grammar of 15x03) Castiel has utterly lost hope that he has any remaining emotional meaning for Dean; without Jack, without Mary, without his powers.

Walking away (as the Winchester family signature music plays poignantly in the background) is a huge (and ultimately positive) step for Cas, who has, over the years, more and more built his identity and his meaning around his connection to the Winchesters, following his long rebellion against (and rejection by) Heaven. After everything Cas has been through (the narrative suggests) he deserves to be his own person, to be loved for himself (not his powers) and not to be taken for granted.

And so we are left with the LOUD narrative negative space of Dean’s silence at the end.

We can see Dean’s tense body language, in the final shot, half poised as if to spring forward, half frozen to the spot, as Cas leaves:

That silence in the narrative structure, which is mirrored in the symbolism of the ghosts/ demons being temporarily re-bottled up in Hell (like Dean’s feelings) as well as in the re-death of the feminine in the form of Rowena (because the feminine in the grammar of SPN = feelings) DEMANDS words, at some point down the road.

Last time Cas was human, Dean kicked him out of the Bunker (thanks to Dean’s coercive pact with Gadreel) and we saw Cas’ broken-hearted suffering over that break-up in 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait (Berens’ very first episode for SPN):

This time, Cas has more agency. He decides to initiate the break-up, because his heart (and how very human of you, Cas) can’t bear being treated to Dean’s silence, Dean’s anger and Dean’s (apparent) indifference any longer.

Now, we need not only to see Dean come to his own broken-hearted realisation over this (reverse) break-up (after all, we’ve seen Dean broken-hearted over losing Cas, to death, before now) but for Cas to see that realisation, in Dean.

In The Rapture (4x20) we are told the story of how Castiel the angel came to take Jimmy Novak as a vessel - how the angel we know became conjoined to the human-form we best know him in:

In The Rupture (15x03) Castiel is losing his angelic powers again, moving once more towards inhabiting Jimmy Novak’s vessel, which is now his own body (Jimmy’s soul long-gone, and indeed that body destroyed and yet resurrected AS Cas, several times), as a human.

Last time Cas was human, Dean missed his shot. How about this time?

The Ouroboros narrative is taking its final turn.

My usual disclaimer: subtextual readings do not inevitably indicate or imply that textual romantic declarations will be forthcoming between Dean and Cas. That element of the story has been told in subtext for 10 years (and that’s where it quite likely will remain, in the terrain of ambiguity). Subtext IS however, part of narrative.

Nevertheless, an emotional reconcilliation of some sort, however readable as “brotherly”, comrades-in-armsy, nebulously “familial” etc. is, by story-logic, absolutely inevitable.

That which is parted will be re-joined - Chuck to Amara, Cas to Dean.

#Supernatural #15x03 #The Rupture #SPN meta #Meta #4x20 #The Rapture #Destiel #Still subtext #But subtext IS part of narrative #Long post for TS #If anyone is still using Tumblr Savr?

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ratingtheframe · 3 years

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Everything Wrong With… Ep 2 - The Devil Wears Prada

Welcome back to Everything Wrong With...the series where dive head first into some of the seemingly okay-ish films and analyse why in fact they do more harm than good in providing us with satiable entertainment. Follow me on instagram @ratingtheframe for more movie related content and without further ado, let's get into this chick flick and see how far we’ve come since 2006.

If you aren’t aware, The Devil Wears Prada is a 2006 “chick flick” originally written as a book by Lauren Weisenburger. I remember seeing The Devil Wears Prada as one of those grown up lady films, for mature women on tampon adverts who had wine on Thursday evenings from M&S and wore heels practically everywhere. My perception of this film and the audience it caters towards has changed dramatically after watching it and it kills me inside to imagine the popularity and praise such a film got back in 2006, an extremely harsh time for women and the perception of beauty standards.

The world was still getting into the internet, magazines and runways were adjusting to the 2000s and the way that women were viewed in the media was a lot more damaging than today. Former supermodels such as Kate Moss and Cara Delevingne have since come out and talked about their experiences in the modelling industry and how it creates unhealthy stereotypes for women and young girls to abide by. The ‘size 0’ and ‘heroin chic look’ has since been banished from the modelling industry, two expectations that were pretty popular in the late and early 2000s for models. We are witnessing a revolution for the modelling industry as they (very) slowly but surely are beginning to introduce more plus sized, diverse and unfiltered faces for their campaigns. We can breathe easier knowing that the only way is forward for the fashion industry and that very little people will stand for the mid 2000s ideologies that were pumped out to the entire world.

Back to 2006 and one of the year’s most popular films with female audiences; The Devil Wears Prada, starring the likes of Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt. The film follows Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) , a wannabe journalist newly welcomed into New York City and is currently on the hunt for her career. She manages to land a job at Runway Magazine, a large, corporate editorial magazine for women’s fashion run by the one and only Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), a devious, beautiful and highly successful media personality and editor.

So far so good as we have two tangible and likeable female leads. The opening sequence (one of the most important in any film) had me eye rolling a touch in the way it depicted women of the 2000s and seemingly created the idea that there are two sides to women.

The five or so minute montage consisted of the various women who are models at Runway, getting ready for their long day of work, right from being undressed to fully made up. This was supposed to be a contrast to how our lead Andy gets ready, barely throwing on any makeup and throwing on whatever she wants whilst heading out the door. When you put the way women choose to be perceived in the world at an opposition, you create this divide between women and further place their worth on how they choose to look. The stereotype of a ‘pick me girl’ arises from this opposition, a girl who actively shames other women for choosing to be more openly feminine in their appearance and actions. The intelligence and respect of women should not be based on how they look when they show up, rather how they BEHAVE when they show up. I just thought this montage was a little unnecessary and if anything, introduced us into a misogynistic world of 2006 really well. One point for accuracy, no points for progression. Everyone gets dressed in the morning and (often) everyone wears underwear, showing this activity on screen didn’t really add much to the film besides the pressures of women to look a certain way.

Once Andy arrives at the company, she is rudely introduced by Emily (Emily Blunt) Miranda’s current right hand. Now the entire character of Emily is again, another concept to this film that is left better in the 2000s; a mean girl and a VERY mean one at that. This world is already a patriarchal mess for women like Andy and Emily and having women join the bandwagon in showing an oppressive side to those who don’t conform to the female societal norms is non progressive. It was almost as if Emily was an investor into the patriarchy by behaving abhorrently towards her from the way she dressed as opposed to her actual character and qualifications. Please, let's not have women against women based on their desirability in the eyes of the male gaze. Emily has already become a clear victim to her own policies, as her lack of eating is laid bare to us as an entertaining gimmick as opposed to a cause of concern. Last time I checked making fun of eating disorders wasn’t chic.

Now the argument whether Miranda Priestly is also an investor in the patriarchy is a little clouded. Through her mean spirit and harsh words towards Andy and her appearance, she comes across as someone who is doing more harm than good by joining the patriarchal view of women in the 2000s. I found myself having to bite my tongue a little instead of calling her bitch because that would be letting my internalized misogyny get the best of me.

Even though Miranda is tough talking and spiteful, I really can’t blame her for it as a character. She is one of the strongest female characters I’ve come across on screen for both her strengths and flaws. Had such a character been placed in a Roman Army or Italian Mob, my views of her would have stayed the same. She is a strong woman with enough versatility and strength to face any situation. The way she asserts her authority in a funny and patronizing way is hard not to fall in love with and any woman who asserts their authority and relishes in their own power is already technically against the patriarchy. Her industry may be patriarchal, however her spirit is not and the things she does in order to keep her status is admirable. I found myself comparing her to the way a man maneuvers the world (again, internalised misogyny, working on it) which in some parts is the reason there should be more Miranda Priestly's in films. Instead of comparing strong women to men, with more strong female leads we’ll start comparing these women to other women.

Thank god for the zilch, overly graphic sex scenes in this film (maybe cuz the screenplay was written by a woman, but who knows-), however their is one character I’d like to address that rubbed me the wrong way and spoke for a big hole in the modelling/fashion industry that still exists today. Christian Thompson (Simon Baker) is this handsome, 40 summit journalist who meets Andy at a social event for a fashion designer. I admit he was charming in his demeanour but also overtly creepy at points. Andy and Christian bump into each other in Paris where he leads her down a street (his hand on THAT part of the elbow) and kisses Andy without consent, knowing she has a boyfriend. “Oh, it's just a movie” you’re probably thinking, but yet I couldn’t help but cringe at such a thing. Movies are a reflection of our society after all. He kisses her several more times until Andy gives in. If we’re trying to get films to reach audiences and affect them in some way, encouraging consent should be one of those things. Depicting such a madness on screen makes my rolls right to the back of my head and speaks for the entire society behind the modelling and fashion industry; a society run by men who can do what they like with or without consent. Though the wellbeing of Andy wasn’t in imminent danger, I felt Christian Thompson as a character to be a representation of those in the fashion industry who take advantage of women because of their status and so called connections. No more of this please!

Andy has a transformation a little later into the film, a concept that we thought had been left in the patriarchy trash can, but quickly emerged in Debby Ryan’s Insatiable (2018). Lasting only 2 seasons from 2018-19, the Netflix series followed Patty Bladell who gets afforded niceties and respect after she loses weight and becomes a “hot girl”. The show was created by Lauren Guissis based on an article about a (male) Pageant Guru who tells women how they can become pageant queens for a small fee...EW. The fact that such a show got picked up in a day and age that was beginning to open up to body positivity and more inclusivity in the media, the show was insensitive to its current surroundings.

This same “ugly duckling” transformation isn’t something new or old apparently, with the one in The Devil Wears Prada being one of the least progressive moments of the film. Now that Andy looked like she could work at Runway, somehow she was working a lot better at Runway and was being afforded privileges she didn’t get before her new haircut. Is this the message we want to send out to the world anymore? That in order to get a one up in life, all you need is new clothes and better make up skills? Of course, glo ups can be fun but the purest, healthiest form of a glow up comes from within.

A tiring cliché that “beauty comes from within” but one that makes a lot of sense and something I experienced in my mid teens. Having never experienced male validity or the feeling of desirability, once I began to believe I was beautiful on the outside, others began to notice, because they could read the confidence and self worth I had from my outward energy. An energy that can’t be felt beyond a face tuned Instagram picture. Beauty can be an energy as well as a look and had Andy embraced this more and rejected the passing comments people made at her, it would have taught us that one doesn’t have to conform in order to be respected. On the other hand, I don’t want to shame nor blame her as conforming to societal standards as for most women ,it’s an act of survival, to secure their places in certain spaces, with Andy being no expectation. A sad reality that a woman may have to wear makeup in order to stay in people’s good books, but a choice that should be discussed as opposed to shamed.

I truly could go on and on about the harmful stereotypes and implications of The Devil Wears Prada and it's sad, yet true similarities to the real fashion industry of today and the mid 2000s. It was and still is cut throat, with many models developing eating disorders, low self esteem issues and even substance abuse due to the mounting pressures of trying to reach perfection. A perfection that doesn’t exist seeing as the fashion and modelling industry alters their version of perfection every single day. I’m glad that by the end of the film Andy ditched Runway in favour of living a more healthy and truthful lifestyle, one that wasn’t swapped in ridiculous pressures and the threat to conform or else leave. Which she did in the end. Miranda isn’t a devil, but a force to be reckoned with in a world that is ready to make her feel lesser than herself because of her gender. I hope to never see such a film like The Devil Wears Prada, ever again, in a world that no longer needs this sort of film to represent the strengths of women. It's best left in 2006 and hopefully you’ve learnt something you’ve never thought about from this in depth analysis.

#the devil wears prada #meryl streep #anne hathaway #emily blunt #2000s movies #fashion #fashionindustry #badmovies #cinema #feminisim #everyday feminism

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traincat · 4 years

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opinions on the new taylor swift album (in terms of spider-man ships) ? 👀👀

YES okay yes I have lots of thoughts. One of my favorite things is when a new Taylor Swift album comes out and I get to decide which songs are what Spider-Man ships. I did a twitter thread about this when the album first came out, which has my initial reactions, but I’ve had time to sit with it now, so let’s dive back in:

the 1: first reading is this is a Peter/Felicia post-breakup. But we were something, don't you think so?/Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool/And if my wishes came true/It would've been you.

(Spectacular Spider-Man #112)

However, I think Taylor Swift’s oeuvre is one especially good for applying to One More Day from Mary Jane’s point of view (New Year’s Day, anyone?) and the 1 doesn’t let us down here.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit/Having adventures on your own/You meet some woman on the Internet and take her home/We never painted by the numbers, baby/But we were making it count/You know the greatest loves of all time are over now. (ASM #561)

cardigan: My first impression was that this is like the ultimate college years Peter/MJ/Gwen song -- leaning slightly more towards the GwenMJ leg of the love triangle/threesome -- and I have not changed on that front. Sequin smile, black lipstick/Sensual politics/When you are young, they assume you know nothing? A friend to all is a friend to none/Chase two girls, lose the one?? 'Cause I knew you/Stepping on the last train/Marked me like a bloodstain??? Tried to change the ending/Peter losing (G)Wendy?????????????

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding/”She saw through the party girl mask I always wore. Saw the frightened, abused kid inside.” (Marvel 1000)

the last great american dynasty: this one’s a little too biographical to work for a Spider-Man ship but I think it could be a good women of Spider-Man song. The maddest woman this town has ever seen etc etc. Alternatively it’s for the version of canon where Doc Ock marries May for her nuclear power plant inheritance and then she turns the tables and poisons him for his criminal empire. good for her.

exile: look, this is a love triangle tragic breakup song, and Spider-Man is the king of both of these things. I’m going to make a call and say that exile, while I think it’s both an excellent PeterFelicia and PeterMJ, leans towards PeterMJ after MJ rejects his first proposal, when they’re seeing other people but everyone keeps trying to get them back together. I can see you starin', honey/Like he's just your understudy/Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me/Second, third, and hundredth chances/Balancin' on breaking branches/Those eyes add insult to injury.

The dueling narration of 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) and I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) is a pretty perfect early PeterMJ summary.

my tears ricochet: okay okay okay so my tears ricochet + mad woman are my ideal “Gwen Stacy gets a resurrection revenge narrative ala Bucky Barnes and Jason Todd” song duo. And if I'm on fire/You'll be made of ashes, too.

mirrorball: Taylor Swift released THE definitive Mary Jane Watson song in 2020. We are talking about the feminine art of performance, we are talking about masks, we are talking about trauma baby!!! I want you to know/I'm a mirrorball/I can change everything about me to fit in/You are not like the regulars/The masquerade revelers/Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten.

I've never been a natural/All I do is try, try, try (ASM #143)

We are ALSO thinking about Mary Jane’s iconic mirrored mini dress from ASM #59. An entire Mary Jane anthem.

seven: this song CRIES OUT for childhood friends, which Spider-Man is a bit lacking in, what with the entire friend group coming together in college, but in my head it belongs to a version of canon where Gwen and Mary Jane were friends as children and lost touch with each other. alternatively, it’s the Peter/Flash childhood friends song, since they’re as close as we get to childhood friends in canon, and also because these lyrics in conjunction with that make me want to cry: And I've been meaning to tell you/I think your house is haunted/Your dad is always mad and that must be why/And I think you should come live with/Me and we can be pirates/Then you won't have to cry.

Also, “just like a folk song, our love will be passed on” makes me cry thinking about longform storytelling like superhero comics so like that’s fun. A real Spidey fivesome sort of feeling.

august: I’ve been thinking about it, and I think this is a Peter/Betty set during their initial romantic relationship. Your back/Beneath the sun/Wishing I could write my name on it/Will you call when you're back at school?/I remember thinking I had you.

this is me trying: A FLASH THOMPSON SONG. Like, I think “I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that” is a big PeterMJ sentiment during several key points of their relationship, but overall the vibe of this song is a Flash. Probably a Peter/Flash, while we’re at it.

illicit affairs: okay, in my heart, I want this to be another Peter/Betty, because the point in canon where they’re sleeping together behind Ned’s back is just so sexy of them, and it’s a favorite fictional extramarital affair. However, I also don’t feel like this song is straight enough as its core to be about them. I also feel like “and you want to scream don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby” is a BIG Gwen Stacy mood. So I’m kind of leaning towards an MJ/Gwen affair while PeterGwen is happening. Which would also be very fun of them all. I think at a push we could also make this a Peter/Flash while Flash is seeing Sha Shan, if we wanted to warp canon around to have a good time. What I’m saying is Spider-Man should have a few more affairs in its body of canon. For the song.

mad woman: I mentioned this up with my tears ricochet but we’re going to say AGAIN for the people in the BACK: this is a Gwen Stacy jam. If they were ever to make an extremely good movie about resurrected Gwen on a murderous revenge spree, this song should be playing in it. What do you sing on your drive home?/Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn?/Does she smile?/Or does she mouth "fuck you forever"?

(Spider-Island: Deadly Foes) Also, not that the Gwen clones get like, full narratives or are allowed to be their own individual characters like the Peter clones (it’s the misogyny) but if they were, mad woman would be such a good Gwen clone song. No one likes a mad woman/You made her like that.

epiphany: this is very rare for me in Taylor Swift’s discography, but I think this is really a Peter solo song.

Crawling up the beaches now/Sir I think he’s bleeding out (Peter Parker #89)

betty: You have no idea how badly I wanted this to be a Peter/Betty, but it is just not. I think there’s a version of Spider-Man high school canon though where this is a Betty/Liz.

peace: This album is light on Taylor Swift Spideytorch hits -- previous examples including Love Story and Call It What You Want To, among many others -- but peace is such a Spideytorch. But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm/If your cascade ocean wave blues come/All these people think love's for show/But I would die for you in secret/The devil's in the details/But you got a friend in me/Would it be enough/If I could never give you peace?

(ASM #790) @bipeteparker said that Johnny COULD give Peter peace but they’re dramatic, so it works, and I stand by that, but I also like it with the juxtaposition of their lives -- Johnny being so famous and such a public figure and Peter having eschewed that life by keeping the mask on.

hoax: and we’re closing the album the same way we started! I think there are various Spider-Man readings you could do, but my big two are PeterFelicia and PeterMJ -- both with the lens of the post-One More Day deal and how that altered both of their relationships with him.

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in (ASM #16HU)

My only one/My kingdom come undone (ASM #545)

#spiderman #traincat talks comics #gratuitous taylor swift spider-man readings #*replies #long post/#taylor swift

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