#anger that's got no real target so everything and everyone becomes something to resent and resist

[lith-myathar]

.

#say what you will about sera dragon age but they really were nailing something #with the ''sometimes we aren't capable of real change until someone loves and accepts us exactly as we are'' thing #if you've gone through life being told there's something wrong with you from every direction and constantly asked to change and improve #that creates both some extreme problems around self worth (feeling inherently damaged and unlovable) and a LOT of anger #anger that's got no real target so everything and everyone becomes something to resent and resist #you are not enough. you will never be enough. even the people who love you are always trying to fix you in the name of helping #and maybe you tried to be different!!! but it didn't work and so you are a constant disappointment #finding somebody who just loves you and sees you amd doesn't demand that you change is.... unthinkable #suspicious. trusting that is not going to come easily #but if it's genuine? that's a place where growth can really start. because it stops being about fighting back and all the resentment #it lets you start believing that maybe change is not synonymous without capitulation or losing this battle you've been fighting #your entire life against the world telling you you aren't good enough #a part of you believed it but another part also knew it wasn't fair and that's the part #that would rather destroy yourself with self destructive behaviors than admit they're right #ahem. i am definitely projecting here but there's a reason i always felt super attached to her!! #and i think i get it now a lot more than i used to

[pantheon-god-of-war]

I made a post on Twitter and learned that Pantheon x Aphelios is a genuine ship like Aphelios x Sett is? Honestly I only ever cared about 200 years when I kicked his face in while ulting bot. I think his story while tragic is very isolating. So I went back to read through the lore of his again to make sure I remembered everything correctly from the first time I read it back when he was released. 

Now bare in mind I do not ship bash, if you like the ship more power to you, I won’t discourage anyone from shipping what they like. It’s all fiction. That said I will analyze the two of them and see if I can find some common ground from the lore material we have. 

Aphelios and Alune were both children of the Lunari and were heralded to be these great children of destiny for the lunar faith. From a young age they had all this weight thrust upon them to defend the Lunari as fighter and seer. This supposed great destiny, while it turned out to be true is quite brainwashing for young children and incredibly manipulative. It is stated that Aphelios had a very strong and deep connection with his sister which in turn hurt him when she was not there since he likely felt isolated and had severe problems fitting in with others. Its a common phenomenon that certain individuals who have a singular best friend or sibling suffer immensely when that person leaves and they are left to deal with others, much like some of us have most fiends online these days and desperately wait for said friends to get on so they will have company. It even says that without Alune his faith wavered, clearly tying him immensely to her so much that there is a dependency on her closeness that correlates to his effectiveness in combat or even as a functioning human being as it is said that he lost his very purpose. It seems like while Alune firmly believes in the Moon Aphelios believes in her and whatever she stands for, so will he. I don’t want to say Moon Simp here because they are brother and sister but in essence he very much does what she commands, even in game. Its a very unhealthy sort of hyper dependency as without her he just falls apart. 

In this desperation he comes across noctum on a spiritual journey and consumes it only to later understand that he is to live as a conduit for Alunes magic. I like this excerpt out of his story because it highlights the duality and the tragedy of their relationship. 

Only now did they understand their destiny. Aphelios would hollow himself out with pain, but would become a conduit for the moon’s power. Alune would live alone, isolated in her fortress, but she would guide her brother, able to see through his eyes.

While it is tragic it really takes away from his own character. He has no real will of his own at this point, Alune is faithful to the moon and guides him in any way she sees fit as she is the seer, he is merely the earthly vessel for her actions that are in the best interests of the Lunari. 

With Aphelios previously already being quite anti social as he only focuses on Alune this connection should amp it up tenfold. Imagine having the only person you really care about in your head constantly talking to you and telling you what to do so long you are under the painful influence of a harmful substance. It makes him the epitome of a living tool, because he does not speak or feel and because he is hyper fixated on his sister. When you hollow your body out with a poison that numbs you to all sorts of feelings there is really little sense for physical companionship as you have numbed yourself to the point of not being able to speak, with constant pain coursing through you. That is without Aphelios innate antisocial behavior

All and all this paints Aphelios as a silent killer who works alone, gets his missions either from Alune exclusively, or convenes with Lunari elders on what targets need to be eliminated. He very much reminds me of Agent 47, take the job, maximum efficiency, get it done, get the next job. His destiny or purpose is to serve the Lunari and keep them safe and anything that keeps him from achieving his singular purpose is either an obstacle or not worth his time. 

Pantheon is a whole new problem in that he hates everyone on the mountain, to varying degrees but still. His one big defining trait is that he stands up to the gods, aspects and darkin. He renounces the power of the aspects and the gods dominion over Targon and will fight nearly anything to follow his belief. He threatens Aurelion Sol, fights Xerath and generally just howls at every aspect ascended, demi god, or darkin there is. When mom told Atreus to pick his battles he simply said “I’ll pick em all” and off he went kicking everyone ass. 

Pantheons place in Targon is very uncertain. I said this before when he got reworked that this stance against the gods will put him at odds with everyone on Targon. The Solari and Lunari believe in their respective gods, the Rakkor or Targonians all believe in either of those gods or worship other constellations since in Targon this ascended magic is something to aspire too. People look up to the stars, ask them for guidance, read their fate in the stars, trust them and even pilgrim from every corner of the earth to worship and marvel at the gods. Pantheon would be at odds with every single person and while he won’t slaughter everyone I think the canonical thing for Pantheon to do is just leave mount Targon and fight other gods OR actually challenge and kill Leona, Diana Taric and so on. Which would be a very dark but also very possible path. Kill the aspects to show the masses that their gods do not save them and demand exponentially more than they ever return. For that Pantheon would have to end the Lunari and Solari faith and completely reshape the way people on Targon think about the stars, and as much as I love Pantheon I do not see that as something possible, nor do I see him as the kind of man who would force anyone to agree with him. He carries his rage and resentment but he will not force it upon another, rather confront the person responsible and settle it with them (the gods). 

Now Pantheon did fight with the Ra’Horak in his fight against Xerath. Where it was actually the Ra’Horak fighting Xerath before Pantheon arrived. I am guessing that was because the first sun disc was constructed in Nerimazeth and the Solari desired it for some reason, but I am getting off track here. Pantheon helped the Solari warriors, which leads me to believe that perhaps he can exist on Targon in a way. But with the circumstances I think it was more him fighting against Xerath. Since that thing was clearly a godlike entity that he was all but ready to kill. The Solari just happen to be there and he decided to aid the mortals fighting against a god, that does not mean he agrees with their beliefs. 

Had Aphelios fought Xerath, would Pantheon have helped? Sure, probably. I think Pantheon would also help Leona and Diana against Aatrox if they needed his help again. It’s all a matter of hierarchy. Who is the greatest threat and who is a lesser one. So I could see them working together against a greater common foe for sure but more I think not. 

His quote to Aphelios is at first glance more positive, but considering all the underlying character traits I think it is a little darker than what it at first implies. Pantheon knows that it is human destiny to fight for survival and only those strong and brave enough do not shy away from the pain and anguish that decision costs. Pantheon understands Aphelios motivation, why he fights, that does not mean he supports it. 

To Pantheon, Aphelios is a man so zealous and devoted to the moon that he would willingly forsake his humanity, poison himself and suffer for eternity so that he could enact the will of the moon, a god. This is going to really set of Pantheon’s past when the god of war possessed his body, forced him into the back of his own mind only to do what he wanted with Atreus flesh. That is the exact breaking point on why Pantheon and Aphelios will hardly ever see eye to eye. One of them a devoted zealot, willing to surrender it all in service to the moon, the other a warrior who despises the gods and their machinations above all else having once been at the mercy of one of them. With Aphelios added antisocial character I really doubt they would ever exchange much words. Perhaps Pantheon extends an olive branch and tries to get Aphelios to live for himself. But Aphelios would refuse, if no one else could sway him from this singular purpose in life which he has grown up with since his birth, this random warrior won’t be able to sway him either and here the line from Pantheon comes back in as a sort of, “I understand and hail your conviction.” before the fight, where he respects the resolve, but not the reason for it. 

That’s why I don’t think they are quite shippable. The only two people I could really see Aphlios with is either Diana or Taric. Diana only if she embraces her role as leader of the Lunari where she comes to appreciate what Aphelios does for her people but is worried about his own mental health, from one antisocial who has grown above it to another. She could perhaps understand and through said knowledge know how to help him open himself up more. That is if she cared enough. Taric on the other hand would feel the damage and pain in Aphelios, and as all life should be beautiful so would he try to mend Aphelios. He clearly has the warmth, care, compassion, and patience to deal with someone as secluded as Aphelios, gently prying him open until he finally lets himself feel again and maybe finally finds someone who can help him open up to other Lunari and Targonians. Isolation is a terrible thing and it leaves horrible scars. I see only Taric in a position where he could mend those scars. Pantheon likely would not care, he is cold and angered himself, no mercy for the strong, as he says. That’s why I think they would clash or would just never get past the cold nodding before combat phase. 

This isn’t to bash any people who like the ship, I just thought id give my two cent on Pantheon x Aphelios and why it never occurred to me to ship these two. I get that emo x himbo is a thing, probably also why Aphelios x Sett is so loved, but from a lore and character standpoint I don’t really see it. 

This was a post I’ll link to twitter, but if you have input or a different opinion I am always open to discussion and new viewpoints. Go crazy! 

#Pantheon #Aphelios

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 8: A Mayor

The Storybrooke Sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumple has a chat with Regina

Read on AO3

After that disaster of a meal, the walk to City Hall gave Rumpelstiltskin time to cool his head. It was one thing to lose control in front of Mrs. Gold, the poor woman would just blame herself for any change in his behavior. But now he was strolling into enemy territory. Going eye-to-eye with the Evil Queen. He knew better than to blink. 

In the old world, there was no question that he was more powerful than Regina. She had learned her magic from him. Even then, the girl had a long list of grievances against a world that had, admittedly, treated her poorly. Rumpelstiltskin had trained her in the ways of dark magic, and that gave her the means to forge her anger into a weapon. Over the years, the queen had refined her rage, hammering her many resentments again and again until her pain was a folded blade, sharp enough to cut the world asunder.   

The most important lesson the Dark One had ever taught his protégé was that true power was the ability to cause pain. If hurting people didn’t make her happy, clearly the solution was to hurt more people. As Regina’s abilities had grown, so did her list of enemies and potential victims. Her wrath had expanded from targeting one little girl, to a small rebellion, to the whole realm.

Storybrooke was Regina’s ultimate victory, even over him. It was not enough for her to simply end the lives of her enemies. She had to torture those who had wronged her, prolong their suffering. For twenty-eight years, she had trapped them all in a world without time. A world where every day seemed exactly the same as the day before--except, somehow, worse. 

She had separated all of them from the people they had loved. She had forced them all to be the worst versions of themselves. She had destroyed their happiness in the hope that she would finally have some for herself.

Had it worked? 

Rumpelstiltskin had reached Main Street, the unofficial border between the old part of  town and the new. Regina lived in New Town, along with the rest of the Storybrooke elite. The castles of this world were made of drywall and stucco, and Mayor Mills lived in the grandest of them all. Did that satisfy her? Was it enough for her to be richer and more powerful than anyone else in town? Did she still feel like a Queen?

City Hall was in New Town as well, only a few blocks away from 108 Mifflin Street. That wasn’t the official residence for every mayor, but it was convenient that the only person who ever ran for the office lived within walking distance. 

Main Street was deserted at this late hour. Even Granny’s had only a few stragglers inside, lonely people lingering over cups of coffee before heading back to empty houses. The loudest noise on the street was the opening of the door from the offices of Dr. Archibald Hopper.

A little boy ran out onto the sidewalk, jabbering excitedly to a blonde young woman.

“I’m telling you, the first step is to figure out who people are. Once we know, then we can help them remember on their own. Then they can find their happy endings!”

“Okay, kid. Sure. We’re gonna suss out people’s secret identities from fairytale land. How?”     

“Don’t worry. It’s all in the book!”

The animated conspirators walked off. Neither one noticed the figure limping in the shadows behind them.

Well, Rumpelstiltskin thought. That was interesting. 

Gold recognized the boy as Henry Mills. Ten years ago--though to a cursed mind it couldn’t possibly have been ten years, my how time flies--Regina Mills had come to Gold and asked him to arrange for an adoption. She had demanded a newborn with no family, preferably from far away. She had wanted a closed adoption, with a birth mother who would never interfere with the life she had planned for the baby. 

It had been a tall order, but Gold had contacted a juvenile detention facility in Phoenix, Arizona. By some happy chance, one of their charges--herself an orphan who had spent her life in the foster care system and inevitably fell to a life of petty theft--had found herself pregnant. Gold had never gotten the name of Henry’s birth mother, but Rumpelstiltskin knew it well.

Emma Swan.

So that was why the Savior had come to town. 

And, apparently, the boy Henry had some idea of the true nature of the people around him. Was it because of this book he had mentioned? Or was reality obvious to anyone who  wasn’t blinded by the curse? Either way, the boy was trying to get Emma to help him make people remember who they were.

How very interesting.

The rest of the walk was easy. Rumpelstiltskin walked with a light step to City Hall. The lights were on in the Mayor’s office, but there was some activity in the garden around the back.

Rumpelstiltskin found the Queen on her knees, picking apples up off the ground. The sedate little garden had become a place of horticultural carnage. An entire branch of Regina’s prized apple tree was on the ground, with a fresh wound on the trunk. The grass was littered with sawdust and leaves and fallen fruit.

“What a mess.” Rumpelstiltskin announced his presence, walking into the enclosed space.  

Regina finished what she was doing before she stood up. “Not for long.”

There was a smile on her face, and a sharp gleam in her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin could read his pupil like a book. Despite the chaos around her, she was celebrating a victory. So far, she was happy. How fragile was that mood?

“This will all be cleaned up in the morning,” Regina said. “And the menace responsible is probably halfway back to Boston by now.”

“You don’t mean Emma Swan, do you?” Rumpelstiltskin circled the tree as he spoke. “I just saw her walking down the main street with your boy. Two of them looked thick as thieves.”

It was always a pleasure to see Regina’s smile vanish, and her satisfaction sour into spite. But now there was an extra thrill in watching her ire. She hadn’t changed at all. Twenty-eight years of getting everything she wanted, and Regina was just as insecure and petty as she had ever been.

Marvelous.  

“I told that woman to get out of my town.”

“Apparently, she didn’t follow your orders.” Reaching up into the tree, Rumpelstiltskin grabbed a low-hanging fruit and twisted the stem until it broke off in his hand. “That makes her rather a special person around here, don’t you think?”   

Regina ground her back teeth, an ugly habit she’d had for years. “I spent all day trying to get rid of her.”

“And you didn’t come to me?” Rumpelstiltskin tossed the apple in the air and caught it in one hand. A whole day? No wonder the Queen was frustrated! Normally her will was worked much more quickly than that. Of course, she normally had help. “I thought you knew where to go when you needed something done.” 

She turned her back on him to examine her tree. “I don’t make deals with you anymore.”

“And what a shame that is for us both,” Rumpelstiltskin lied. “After all, we have such a grand history of working together for our mutual benefit.”

“Your ‘benefits’ aren’t always what they seem, Mr. Gold.” Regina smirked, like she was pointing out some undiscovered fact. “Even when you got Henry for me, now I find out that there’s this woman.”

He held the apple in the palm of his hand. “Children are known to have mothers--”

“I’m his mother!” She cut him off sharply, and he knew that look. If this was a world with magic, the Evil Queen would be throwing fireballs right now. Her anger was always so close to the surface. She had never learned how to hold back, how to sneak and plot and keep your enemies close. 

“Be that as it may.” He kept his voice friendly, the same tone Gold would use. “Next time you need something, I hope you’ll remember to call on me.”

She smirked again, that regal expression of amusement and disdain. It was one of her better masks. “Nice to see you so accommodating, Mr. Gold. I’m glad that woman hasn’t ruined everything in Storybrooke.”

He shook his head, all businesslike courtesy. “No matter what strangers may do, everyone needs a friend in low places.”

“And you are certainly the lowest,” Regina chuckled. The smallest show of deference was enough to restore her good humor. The slightest reminder of the power she thought she had. “By the way, how is Mrs. Gold?”

“Quite well, thanks for asking.” He looked her in the eye and lied to her face. His masks were better than hers and always would be. “She’s a little, ah, tied up, at the moment. But I’ll give her your regards once she’s free.”

“Please do. I always like seeing the two of you around town.”

Rumpelstiltskin polished the apple on the sleeve of his suit jacket. This type was called a Red Delicious, though Mayor Mills would tell people it was a Honeycrisp. She could tell people anything and they wouldn’t question her. 

He began to saunter out of the garden. He had seen everything he needed to see.

 “I wouldn’t worry about Emma Swan.” He left Regina with a reassurance that would only remind her of her real problem. “How could she possibly be a threat to you?”

He didn’t let Regina respond. He had asked her a question that would haunt her waking hours. Whatever happiness she had accumulated with her curse had popped like a balloon the moment the Savior had entered Storybrooke. 

All he had to do was watch the show. 

On his way out of the garden, he took one bite out of the apple. Red through it was, the fruit was far from delicious. It was bland and bitter, just like her. Rumpelstiltskin tossed the apple over his shoulder and left the Queen to the destruction that had once been her sanctuary. 

****

Heading back to the house, Rumpelstiltskin’s mind went to another dark sorceress: Maleficent, the self-styled Mistress of All Evil. She had certainly been the mistress of Regina. Once Regina’s husband was dead and Snow White had fled for her life, Regina had taken Maleficent as her lover publicly. No one in the kingdom had dared speak a word against it. For a time, the two of them were inseparable, their mutual adoration a force that would move mountains. And they liked nothing more than to exercise their power on anyone who was weaker than they were.

They had done it to Belle. Rumpelstiltskin’s heart burned at the memory. Long before he married her, he had let them take her. When Belle had trusted him completely, he had been too much of a coward to defend her. Because he couldn’t have let the queens of darkness know that he had feelings for the pretty girl whose body he had bought and paid for. He couldn’t have exerted any force to protect her from them. He couldn’t have even said that she belonged to him and he didn’t want to share. That would have been a sign of weakness, tantamount to admitting that he loved her.

And he couldn’t have allowed them to know the truth. His reputation, his pride, could not endure it. At the time, he couldn’t even admit it to himself. 

Belle had come back to him naked and bleeding, with a testimony of the worst kinds of torture. Every wound on her body screamed out his guilt. Every word of what she told him as an indictment of his failure. For weeks after she had suffered nightmares and attacks of fear--things he only learned about later, because he hadn’t wanted to hear it, and Belle hadn’t wanted to tell him. The selfless girl had stifled her own trauma for the sake of his ego.

On Rumpelstiltskin’s mountain of regrets, refusing to protect Belle from Regina and Maleficent was a towering peak. 

Of course, Belle wasn’t the only one. Reports and rumors kept circulating about that kingdom, of the horrors inflicted on anyone who stood up to the Queen, or got in her way or even attracted her attention. Fair maidens with dark hair began to stay out in the sunshine to tan their skin and lighten their tresses. They wanted to bear no resemblance to the truest target of Regina’s rage, the girl who always evaded her grasp.

Eventually it had become too much, even for Maleficent. She had left, returning to her own castle. When Rumpelstiltskin had paid a visit to her, the witch had seemed more disappointed than heartbroken.

“It just got boring, Rumple. The same things to the same people, over and over! And Regina was never satisfied, not with me or anyone else. Evil is evil, but a person’s got to feel appreciated for the work she puts in!”

Maleficent would have taken Regina back, he knew. If there was even the slightest hint that things could change, that Regina was capable of growing up. Maleficent would have offered Regina a twisted version of happiness, if only Regina had really wanted to take it. 

Sometimes, late at night while Belle was sleeping safely beside him, Rumpelstiltskin liked to imagine the reconciliation between the two queens. It was an inevitable moment. One way or another, destiny would bring them back together, at least one more time.

Regina would come to Maleficent. Perhaps she would say she was sorry, that she wanted a new start. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to say anything. Maleficent’s eyes would glow with her green fire. And her smile would be of genuine joy. She would lower her defenses and welcome her lover with open arms.

Welcome Regina into her heart.

That image had comforted him through many nights when his mind was tormented by how the queens had tortured Belle. They would pay for all they had done to her. Even now, the thought filled him with vengeful contentment.

****

When he got back to the pink house in Old Town, Rumpelstiltskin found the place dark and quiet. The lights in the entryway were shut off, the candles in the dining room extinguished. The cold, fluorescent light in the kitchen was the only illumination on the first floor.

Plates and cookware were stacked on the counter by the sink. They were rinsed off, but not scrubbed. Gold didn’t trust his wife to wash his precious antiques. 

“Right,” Rumpelstiltskin said. 

In preparation to wash the dishes, he took off his suit coat and draped it over a kitchen chair. Then he removed the cuff links at his wrists and carefully folded up his sleeves. There were black rubber gloves inside the cupboard door underneath the sink. A green canvas apron hung from a hook by the stove. Gold was very fond of protection, of layers and separation. At last, there was something about him that Rumpelstiltskin could understand.

He took off Gold’s moonstone ring and put it in his trouser pockets with the cuff links. Now the only thing on his hands was his wedding ring, the golden band that had once been a shackle around Belle’s wrist.

Before he put on the rubber gloves, Rumpelstiltskin brought his knuckles up to his lips and kissed his ring. He had never removed it in the old world. It was as much a part of him as his own hand. He wouldn’t take it off here, either. The ring was proof that he was Belle’s husband. 

Belle’s husband, and Bae’s father. That was enough. When the world was right, that would be all he would need to be. 

Once the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put away, Rumpelstiltskin gathered his things and went upstairs. Mrs. Gold had said something about taking a bath. She was surely done by now. If he was lucky, she would already be asleep and he wouldn’t have to talk to her again.

It was the end of Rumpelstiltskin’s first full day in Storybrooke. He was already tired, already heartsick, already waiting for the Savior to do her job and free them all.     

The red lamp was burning in the parlor of the bedroom suite, just as it had been the night before. Mrs. Gold had turned it on to welcome her husband. The bedroom was dark, save for a beam of light that shone from the half-open bathroom door.

“Is that you, Mr. Gold?” Belle’s voice came from the bathroom, as well as the faint sound of sloshing water. The whole bedroom smelled like some kind of artificial perfume--the expensive bath oils that Mrs. Gold liked to buy.

“Do a lot of visitors come into this bedroom?” Rumpelstiltskin stayed on the other side of the door and began to undress. 

Mrs. Gold chuckled, the way Belle did when she was relaxed and comfortable. “I never know when you might send someone over to surprise me.”

He winced at that, at the casual way she suggested the possibility. Gold had never allowed another man or woman to touch his wife, but it always seemed to be on the horizon. That was the next barrier to cross, the next thrill for Gold to seek. He had prepared Mrs. Gold to expect it. At any moment, he might invite some stranger into their home--into their bed, into her body--and her task would be to be a welcoming hostess. 

Regina had made it that way. Everything about this marriage was her design, a reflection of what she had seen of him and Belle. It was possible that the torment was supposed to come from how much Gold and his wife both wanted to sleep with more people, but couldn’t find anyone in Storybrooke willing to indulge them.

“I’m almost done shaving,” Mrs. Gold called from the bathroom. “Then I think I could use some lotion. It’s getting colder now. I gotta keep soft and moisturized.”

She was inviting him to rub her down, to put his hands all over her silky skin and cover her body with a slick, sweet-smelling substance. They had done this so many times, in this world as well as the old one. He had made her soft and smooth and warm. He had found her wet and willing and open. His wife wanted him. She was offering herself to him. She loved him and he loved her and joining their bodies together was the most natural thing in any world…

“Fuck,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered as he pulled his pajama pants up over his hardening cock. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, more loudly, he said to Mrs. Gold, “Actually, I think I’m going to go to sleep. You take as much time as you need.”

For a moment, the silence from the other room threatened to swallow the whole of reality. 

“Oh,” she said at last. “O-okay, Mr. Gold. What--whatever you say.”

It hurt to hear the disappointment in her voice. But this was what he had to do. He couldn’t indulge in Mrs. Gold’s appetites--or his own. She wasn’t Belle. Doing anything more than sleeping next to her would be an unconscionable violation of Belle’s trust. 

And besides, that woman had no say over what she thought she wanted. Between the cursed personality Regina had devised and the cruel training Gold had inflicted, nothing inside of Mrs. Gold was real. She wasn’t a person, any more than Gold had been.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, and got into bed. Maybe he could fall asleep before Mrs. Gold joined him. Or he could feign slumber until she went away to do something else. Would tomorrow be another day like this? And the day after that? Was he going to have to make excuses to this woman until the curse was broken? Coward that he was, he would run and hide from someone who thought she loved him.

He was still awake when Mrs. Gold came out of the bathroom. To her credit, she didn’t try to attract his attention. He had told her that nothing would happen tonight and she respected his decision--far more than Gold had ever respected any of hers. But she still strode across the bedroom to get to the armoire in the parlor. Gold had never made room in his closet for her clothes. 

The light from the bathroom illuminated her body. Her hair was wrapped up in the microfiber towel she had bought specifically for that purpose. Aside from that, she was completely naked. 

He should have looked away. He should have turned his face to the wall and closed his eyes until she put on a nightgown. But he hadn’t seen Belle in twenty-eight years. His wife, his beauty, his light in the darkness.

For a moment, he filled his eyes with her. Hiding in the darkness, he didn’t conceal his interest. He saw it all. Belle’s neck, her shoulders, her slim arms and round breasts. She was so pale and smooth, a statue carved from alabaster. The gentle slope of her belly and the soft curves of her waist and hips. Her long, lovely legs. And between her legs…

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. 

Bile rose in his throat.  

He clenched his jaw, and rolled over in bed. He couldn’t look at her for another second. 

Between her legs, Mrs. Gold was bare and hairless. Like a child. Gone were the wiry curls that used to hide Belle’s treasures. He used to enjoy running his fingers through them, to tease his wife before he began to play with her properly.

It was a style in this world, for a woman to shave or wax her pubic hair. Men thought any hair on a woman’s body was unfeminine or even unhygienic. Apparently Gold was one of those fools. 

But even worse for Rumpelstiltskin was the memory of when Belle came back from her time with the queens. She had been bare then as well. It had taken weeks for her hair to grow back. She said that Maleficent and Regina had shaved her with broken glass. That they had pulled out any stubble by the roots.

Belle had not described the pain, but he could imagine it.

He didn’t know if Mrs. Gold had put on a nightgown before she got into bed. She didn’t touch him or try to speak to him. She probably thought he was angry with her. And while Rumpelstiltskin did seethe with fury, Mrs. Gold had very little to do with it.

Regina. The name pounded through his mind, until the very instant he succumbed to sleep. Regina will pay for all of this. 

****

He is in a cell, in the deepest dungeons of Snow White’s castle. The cell is enchanted, so his magic is useless. It is a dripping cave, carved from solid rock. There are no other prisoners nearby. The guards are stationed at the other end of a long corridor. The only time he ever sees a living soul is when people come to him for help.

He is exactly where he wants to be. 

“I tried your curse,” the Evil Queen rants from the other side of the pointed bars. “It didn’t work!”

“Considering we’re all still here, I should think that’s rather obvious, dearie!”

The Queen snarls at him. Her dark jewels glint in the torchlight. “You know why it didn’t work.”

“Well, I can make an educated guess...”

“Then tell me!”

Leaning back against the rough stone wall, he chuckles at the Queen’s demands. 

“There’s a price to that, dearie.”

She sneers. “Name it.”

“When--” He stops. He makes a show of changing the word. “If you can cast this curse, you will be creating a whole new world. Everything will be as you want it to be, Your Majesty.”

“I know that!” she snaps. “That’s the whole point! This world is stacked against me. This curse is the only chance I have to get my revenge!”

“Yes.” He grins at the Queen, and runs his tongue over his teeth. “You will control everything. All of our fates will be in your regal hands.”

“So what do you want?”

“Oh nothing much,” he waves his hand. “Only what I already have.”

“It’s a world without magic.”

“But not a world without power, yes? Not a world without wealth, or a world without comfort? Not a world without any pleasures at all?”

“Tell me what you want, imp.”

“It truly is a simple request,” he lies. “What is mine, stays mine. Everything I had before I came to this…” He gestures to indicate his captivity. “So the power, the wealth--”

“The woman?” The Queen smirks. “Is that what this is? You want to make sure you keep your little plaything!” Now she laughs. “Are you sure you still want her? She is a little worse for wear.”

“You made sure of that, Your Majesty.” His voice is low, but she doesn’t hear the threat.

“I could make you a lothario instead. Give you a new girl every night? That would be a punishment for quite a lot of people.” 

He moves so fast she cannot see him until he climbs the bars and grabs her by the throat, pulling her toward him. He growls at the Queen. He almost roars: “I. Want. My. Wife!”

The Queen jerks from his clutches, stumbles backwards to get away from him. Quickly, she allows haughtiness to mask her fear. 

“Fine,” she says stiffly. “She will be your wife in the new world, though that will not save you from the curse. Neither of you will remember a second of this place.”

“That’s not as cruel a fate as you might think, dearie.”

“Nevertheless.” She acts like that’s the end of an argument she has won. “Now: how do I cast this curse?”

“You need a heart, dearie.”

“Yes, I know that!” she snaps. “The heart of the thing you love most. I killed my own father and it didn’t work!”

“Poor Prince Henry.” He shakes his head. “He died as he lived: being betrayed by women who never loved him enough.”

“I did love him!” The Queen seems on the verge of tears. “Daddy was the only person who stood by me through everything!”

“Oh!” He widens his eyes and purses his lip in a mockery of her sorrow. “While it is true that the love between father and child can destroy worlds, that doesn’t seem to be enough. The curse doesn’t demand the thing you love much. You must give up the thing you love most.”

“Snow White killed the only other thing I ever loved.”

“Oh, then you’re in trouble, aren’t you, dearie?”  He giggles. “You don’t understand what you’re trying to do!”

“I’m trying to get revenge!”

“You’re trying to make yourself happy!” He grabs the bars of his cage. “You said it yourself, there’s nothing for you in this world. You think you have no choice but to destroy everything here and start over. Do that, and you’ll lose things, dearie. What you love most is just the first step.”

“But I have nothing to love!”

“And nothing loves you? No one loves you, Your Majesty? No one in this world wants to make you happy? No one would embrace you, if only they thought you might embrace them back?”

She begins to speak, then stops. Her royal countenance freezes. He can see the thought blossom in her mind.

“There it is!” he cackles. “You know what you love, dearie. Now… Go kill her!” 

#golden rings #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #ouat #regina mills

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Well This is Strange and Unexpected [Toshinori x Reader] [Part 2]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: Toshinori struggles with your unfavorable opinion of his heroic alter-ego, but tries his hardest to impress you on a second date! Now… how do people date again?

4,537 words | SFW

“Wh-wh-what are you saying? You don’t like All Might?”

“I am just so tired of how everybody loves him! ‘I got the All Might special-edition action figure.’ ‘Well I got his autograph,’” you parrot in a mocking tone. “Whoop-de-friggen-doo. And he’s such an annoying showboat—like, I appreciate the crime he stops, but half the time he’s just striking a pose in front of news cameras shouting some dumb catchphrase. Go catch a bag guy and quit bragging about it! But you know what pisses me off most of all—all the swooning and fangirling. Why are so many women even into him?! All those beefy muscles are so ugly, he’s like an upside-down stack of potatoes! Who likes that?”

Toshinori is just staring, slack jawed, at you. Like you kicked his puppy.

“Sorry for going off like that, I shouldn’t tear apart something you obviously like.”

Is what you should have said.

Instead, you inhale, and, “Another thing! He’s not even edgy, or interesting—there’s no depth there, he’s just… all powerful and perfect? It’s so boring! All flash and no substance. If I was going to root for a hero, it’d be someone like Eraserhead. So dark and gruff, never putting himself in the spotlight, letting the work speak for itself.”

“I… I’ve gotta go.” He stands robotically and walks toward the door. Oh, shit. Your heart sinks.

“Wait!” you run after him and grab his arm. “I’m sorry. I was being mean. It’s just, All Might stuff is everywhere and it feels like I can’t escape it,” you laugh. “But if you’re a fan, that’s OK. I won’t make fun of him. I really am sorry.” He finally turns around to face you.

“I meant the phone call. I gotta go. Emergency.” He holds up the glowing screen.

“Oh.”

He smiles and pats you on the head. But he’s more subdued than he was a minute ago, and there’s a pain in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. He probably did take it really personally when you insulted his hero. Idiot.

“Do you really think All Might is ugly?” he asks quietly, gathering his things by the door. “There’s nothing appealing about him at all?”

“Like I said, you’re my type.”

He lets out a quiet, almost melancholy breath of a laugh. He turns to you, and wraps his long arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. It’s not a particularly passionate hug—his touch is so light, he’s barely making contact at all—but he’s tall enough to rest his chin on top of your head.

“You’re a strange one,” he whispers.

You close your eyes and breathe him in. He smells a lot like iron and convenience-store floor, actually, could be a lot more romantic. But you feel content so close to this scarecrow, with his soft bangs hanging down and brushing your skin. You almost let out a whine when he finally pulls away.

“So, will I see you again?” You ask, nervous about the answer. He couldn’t have been that serious about that All Might stuff, right? But if you chased him off, at this point, it might break your heart.

“Definitely.” A wide grin splits his whole face as he strikes a heroic pose. “My debating skills cannot be defeated! Next time, I’ll convince you All Might is the greatest hero!”

“Oh my god, get out of my house.”

 ****

Toshinori couldn’t believe it. Today of all days. First he wore himself out doing hero work in the morning. Then USJ was attacked and he pushed past his limit to rescue his students, nearly died, and once again reduced the amount of time he can remain in his muscle form. On top of all that, now, today of all days is when a couple of everyday bullies decide to hassle him.

He just had to go for a walk instead of getting a cab straight home. Had to stop to pick up medicine, even though it was already getting dark. Were such simple things really so hard for the number-one hero now?

He would laugh if it weren’t so pathetic.

It wasn’t like this had never happened before. Every once in awhile some delinquent singles him out, expecting a weak target, but even in his weak form, on a normal day, he would easily dodge and evade them, quickly diffusing the situation.

But today. Today he was done. He had already gone beyond what he had to give, and gone beyond that again, and he was out.

There were plenty of witnesses in the store, but nobody was going to stop to help, just pretending they couldn’t see. He was practically invisible in this form. Nobody cares what happens to some creepy, worn-down old man. It’s better this way, anyway. What kind of hero would he be if someone got hurt rescuing him?

This was really going to happen. He was really going to have his ass kicked by some random jerks. How had he fallen so low?

Then you appeared.

There was nothing he could do to stop you from putting yourself in danger: he could barely move. That kick caught him right in his weak spot, the old wound Nomu had already agitated earlier that day. A sickening, warm gurgling of fluids squished in his lungs, making each breath a battle against the encroaching darkness.

Run away. Just run away!

You obviously weren’t a hero, you didn’t have any training, that was clear in the way you carried yourself. But you were brave. Brave enough to piss those guys off. You just kept telling them off like you had no sense of self-preservation, until—he saw one of them about to throw a punch at you, and his nostrils flared in anger. He would have to—have to force himself to transform, no matter how it would hurt him, no matter how many people would see. He couldn’t let this happen—

Then you did something his pride would never have let him consider: you just started shrieking.

It worked. You saved yourself, and him, though it was even more humiliating than letting himself get beat up. There he was, suffocating on his own blood where anyone walking by could see what a helpless weakling he was… and now there was a girl bawling loudly on that same floor, drawing everyone’s attention to the intensely embarrassing scene.

Time to crawl into a hole and never show his face again?

He had to hand it to you though, you knew what you were doing. You forced all the silent spectators to admit they were paying attention—forced them to get involved. You had the heart of a hero, all right.

Everything after that seemed to happen so fast. Losing consciousness, learning that you had risked your well-being once again for him with your quirk. The shame he felt, seeing you suffering the same symptoms he was. Then suddenly, you were asking him out?

He was used to getting attention all the time in his muscle form, but in his true form, he was so invisible he could transform into All Might in public and nobody ever noticed. Like there was nobody standing there before All Might magically showed up.

His head swam dizzily when you said that he was your type. How could you be serious? But it seemed you were, even though he had been nothing but helpless. Even though you were coughing up blood because of him. What in the world were you seeing?

You were so boldly affectionate with him—though every time you did something unreserved, you started turning red and shaking, like you were acting with your heart before your head could talk you out of it. Even his hideous scar, and the frustrating health issues he doesn’t like to burden others with, you accepted without even a moment of disgust or fear. You reached out and touched it without thinking, and then blushed. It was so cute.

Being adored and praised as All Might was easy to brush off, but this? He had never had someone pressed against his body so affectionately as this drained husk. As the thing he was slowly becoming, permanently. There was at least one person who still saw him. He could get used to that feeling—that warmth in his chest. 

Then his phone rang—that custom ringtone he recorded himself! For a moment, he thought you were putting it together: the blond hair, two long bangs, the eyes, the voice.

But no, instead he got an even bigger shock. You don’t like All Might?!

How can he go out with someone who doesn’t like All Might? He is All Might!

Obnoxious? Ugly?? SHE PREFERS AIZAWA?!?!

Nope. That’s it. That is more than he can take.

But then there you were, pulling at his arm with those puppy-dog eyes, apologizing. You didn’t mean anything against him. You just didn’t know. You couldn’t know. He can’t blame you for having an opinion about a public figure. Even he had to admit his public persona could be a little… much.

He checked the caller before dismissing it. It was Nezu, so it probably was important. Not exactly a lie. It’s a shame to leave early, but he didn’t want you to know how shaken he was.

To be honest, he’s been starting to resent All Might a little, himself. He used to be that brawny, handsome hero, but now… now it’s just a mask he puts on. A flashy act for the crowds, and they eat it up, while his real self is overlooked and treated like a punching bag. Of course he resents it, just a little.

It’s actually kind of tickling that you prefer him this way. Pretty soon, it’s all he’ll be.

But he is All Might, too! If you only knew him better, you would realize how awesome he is! After all, All Might is the same person you had a wonderful evening with, laughing and watching movies—the same person you wanted a second date with. Yes, he’s sure you would like all of him if you got to know him! He’ll win you over!

 ****

“Next time, I’ll convince you,” he said. Next time.

After 15 minutes, you get a text from Toshinori’s number. “Oh good, did he make it home safely?” you wonder.

It’s a short essay about All Might.

Ping!

Another text from Toshi. Also about All Might.

Ping!

Did you know crime rates fell by over 20 percent since All Might debuted?

Ping!

His confident demeanor isn’t just showboating, it’s about instilling confidence in—

Ping!

Look at this video of All Might rescuing puppies! PUPPIES!!

You shake your head and laugh, a warm smile on your face. Hero fanatics may be annoying, but Toshi is kind of adorable. It’s so wide-eyed and innocent how much he loves—

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Yeah, never mind, it’s annoying. You text back a single message:

lol.

You can practically hear his internal screaming from across town. You snicker. He was right, you are a little devious.

*********************************************

Toshinori was as busy as he said he’d be. After the flurry of texts, it was over a week before you heard from him again. You thought he might want to watch the U.A. Sports Festival together, since he was such a fan of hero stuff (and All Might would be involved this year—eye roll), but he said he had too much to do.

You wondered if that was true, or if he could hear your eyes rolling through the text message. Maybe your snarky response to his hero obsession had spoiled things, and he’d keep on making excuses until you took the hint.

But a day later, he called back (yes, called—who does that?) and apologized so vehemently, you knew he meant what he’d said all along. He was just busy. But he was going to have some free time over the next week, and wants to see you again!

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of pink, white, and periwinkle flowers in his hands, wearing an oversized blazer and tie. It’s like he’d watched an old Fred Astaire movie to figure out what people on dates are supposed to look like.

“Aww, Toshinori!” you clasp your hands under your chin. “What did I say about marriage? You’re not here to propose, are you?”

He looks down at himself, then at your casual attire. “I overdid it, huh?”

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“I’ve been told it’s a problem of mine,” he scratches the back of his head, giving a lopsided grin.

“No, it’s adorable!” You take the flowers, brushing your fingers against his, and bury your nose in the fragrant petals. You look up at him with a sultry, playful gaze. “Though… I might need to change into something more formal now, or it’ll look like I hired you.” A fountain of blood shoots from his mouth.

You drop the bouquet and throw your arm under his shoulder in case he falls, the other hand instinctively placing itself over his scar, the source of his affliction. He jumps back with surprising agility, as if evading an attack.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t use your quirk on me again. I’m much better today—the bleeding is always going to happen, so don’t push yourself.”

You hold your hands up in surrender. “OK. I wasn’t going to. Probably. I definitely won’t now. It’s really a regular issue?”

He nods. “I’m sorry if it bothers you.”

“No, no, I was just curious.” You take his hand and lead him inside. He explains his condition, while you find a vase for the flowers. He takes off his jacket and tie, folding them over the arm of the couch. With just a white button-up, he immediately comes down to a more casual level, better matching your outfit. He throws his arms wide to ask, “What do you think?”

You think he looks slender and gorgeous, and just disheveled enough that you want to comb your fingers through his hair, and just dapper enough that you want to undo one more button.

“Perfect!” You throw finger guns at him, “Just a couple of slobs out for a date!”

 ****

Unfortunately, he has a reservation at a fancy restaurant. Very fancy. One of those places where the floors are marble and everyone wears black. Now you feel way under-dressed, and wish he’d warned you that’s why he was dressed so nice. You don’t even want to look at the prices on the menu.

You had hoped this date would be more exciting, considering the first one started with a brawl. That was a real ice-breaker. Here, the atmosphere is so quiet and formal, you’re almost afraid to speak, and a tense silence builds between you. Toshinori doesn’t seem to be having a great time either.

“You’re barely eating anything,” you note him lethargically picking at his plate. “Do you not like the food?”

“No, I just can’t eat much at once, so…”

“But the portions here are really big! Why would you want to come here?”

“It… seemed like the kind of place you’re supposed to go for a date!”

“Are you kidding?” you shout, half standing up from your seat, too loudly for the restaurant, whose more dignified customers glare and scoff. You sit back down and cover your face with your hand. And you just start laughing. A quiet chuckle at first, but soon you can’t even contain it, your shoulders wracking, and your head tossed back.

“Wh-what’s so funny?” Toshi looks scared.

“I hate it here!” you spurt out, still laughing. “This is the worst! It’s way too stuffy, and you can’t even eat the food.”

“I hate this place too! I just thought women like this sort of thing.”

You sputter and howl, slapping the table. “What are we even doing here?”

“We’re getting the bill!” He calls the waiter over, who is happy to shoo you ruffians out of the fine establishment.

 ****

Out in the fresh air and sunlight, you feel like you can finally talk to each other. He apologizes for being too old-fashioned, and, frankly, having no idea what he’s doing. You link arms, and decide to go for a stroll around the city, stopping at a street vendor for pork buns, which Toshi can eat one at a time at his own pace.

However, out in the city, All Might’s unsettling grin was inescapable, watching from every billboard and gift shop. It’s not long before Toshi starts on his favorite subject: prying into why you are the one person on earth who doesn’t adore him. You would be just as happy to let it go, but since he insists, you wind up in a heated back-and-forth.

“…and he’s always like ‘Detroit smash!’ ‘Texas smash!’ but it’s just a bunch of punches.”

“Th-that’s not true at all! Detroit Smash is when he punches downward to create a shockwave, and Texas Smash is when he punches so hard it blows villains away, and—”

“Yeah, that’s just a bunch of punches.”

Choking noises escape his throat. His entire world has been destroyed. Good job.

He hangs his head with a defeated sigh. “So, you really hate All Might.”

You squeeze his arm. It hurts to see him so down, even though it’s silly that he cares so much. “It’s not that I hate him. At the end of the day, I’m glad he’s running around saving lives. The problem is hero culture in general. There’s so much focus on their ‘brand,’ on their market value. I guess I can’t even blame individual heroes for grandstanding, considering their income depends on their popularity, but honestly—they’re public servants, the same as the police. Did you know the police are still responsible for stopping more crimes than heroes, when you take into account all the non-quirk-related crimes they handle, and the detective work used to locate villains in the first place? But you don’t see their faces all over posters, and commercials, and t-shirts!” You point your finger in a random direction, and it lands on a perfume ad in a store window with Uwabami’s face. Amazing, not All Might this time.

“And your hero All Might is the worst one, with that dumb flashy smile, and big inspiring speeches, like he’s gotta make sure everyone knows he’s the greatest.”

Toshinori has been listening silently this whole time, deep in thought. From the solemn frown he was wearing, it seemed some of what you said hit home. But at that last part, he raises his piercing blue eyes to yours.

“You’re wrong… All Might’s smile isn’t about his own ego. He smiles so that people in trouble know everything will be OK. So they don’t feel scared. As long as the hero is still smiling, you know he’s going to win in the end. Being the symbol of peace isn’t about him, it’s about giving the world hope!”

Your heart flutters. It’s not so much the words he said—you’d heard the same line a million times—but the fire in his voice as he said it. Naive as they may be, you can’t help but admire his convictions.

He catches the smile in your eyes, and gives you the biggest, doofiest, triumphant grin. You try to think of something cynical to say to burst that bubble of optimism. You can think of a few: People shouldn’t be symbols, they should be people. That smile is so forced; it’s obvious he’s hiding pain, and you’d rather face the honest truth, no matter how hard, than have hope that’s a lie.

Eh. Maybe you’d tell him later. Right now, you just want him to keep smiling.

“I know!” He rubs his hands together. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you—this way.”

“You cannot take me to a hero museum for a date!” you grimace.

He laughs, grabbing your hand and leading you, “Don’t worry, it’ll be good!”

 ****

The sun is orange in the sky over the ocean, painting the clouds with striking purple and yellow streaks reflected in the waves below. A warm breeze blows your hair back, ruffling Toshinori’s long bangs, and swaying the spiky parts like a field of barley.

“Wow,” you breathe, leaning over the railing of the boardwalk. He leans next to you.

“Better than the restaurant, huh?” he nudges you with his elbow.

“You could’ve at least chosen one of those fancy restaurants where the dishes are tiny, instead of a place you couldn’t eat!”

“Yeah, I really bungled this date thing,” he laughs, hand on his forehead.

How soft would his hair would feel if you twined your fingers through it right now, you wonder? The urge to grab him, and smash your lips against his coils inside you like a spring. But… you’re not sure if he would want that. He’s just so cute!

He offers his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, tipping his head at you. You take it, and stroll together down the steps into the sand and along the beach, the sounds of crashing waves and sea birds like music around you.

“You know, this whole beach used to be covered with trash until about three months ago.

“You know, this whole beach used to be covered with trash until about three months ago. This was never publicized, but it was cleaned up by an aspiring hero who was inspired by All Might. Not everything heroes do is for fame and glory. Sometimes it’s just about helping the community.”

“Then how did you find out about it?”

He blanches. “Huh?”

“If it was never publicized, then how do you know who did it?”

A bright red river ejects from his lips, and he doubles over, hacking. That’s one way to change the subject. You rub his back as he recovers, but instead of helping him relax, he grows rigid and more on-edge.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking. You have no idea how much it hurts to see you in pain because of me. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I…” You almost swear you weren’t going to. That you won’t, ever again. But… “No. I wish I could tell you that, so you can relax around me and not worry, but I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep. If you passed out again, or if you were suffering in unbearable agony, if… if you were dying… I would use my power, with or without your permission. There’s no way I could let you die, not if I can do something about it.”

“Young lady…” he purrs, stepping in closer, “I like your spirit, but… I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me. I don’t want anybody else putting themselves through hell trying to be a hero for me.”

There’s a tug on your heart, and before you can stop yourself, you’re up on your toes, hands around his neck, your lips on his. He breathes in, frozen for an agonizing moment. You pull away, bright red, stammering apologies. Then his palm is cupping your jawline, thumb tracing tender circles over your hot cheek. He lowers his forehead, knocking it gently against yours, the side of your nose rubbing against his. His breath, so close, catching. Your eyes close. He angles his head, and kisses you back.

Eventually, you pull away, breathless. Your hands grip his narrow shoulders. “Listen. I appreciate you not wanting me to hurt myself for you. But you can trust me. If I decide to take some of your pain away, it’s because I decided to—get it?”

His face says he doesn’t. You pick up a seashell and toss it into the waves.

“Let me explain. The person this quirk is most dangerous to is its user. The hardest lesson to learn about it is how to say no.

“I was young when All Might debuted, and I loved him back then. His whole noble hero thing—always putting others first, always answering a cry for help, no matter how much danger he was in—I admired it. I wanted to be like that. And when other kids learned that my quirk could take away their scraped knees and bruised elbows, I was in high demand. I don’t think they meant to be selfish—they probably thought I was more resilient to pain as part of my quirk, but I just wanted to smile through it like that dumb bastard on TV. So I just kept taking, and smiling, until I was hooked up to machinery in a hospital bed for two weeks, barely hanging on.”

He grabs onto your hand and squeezes, almost so hard that it hurts. A pained look etches his face. “I’m sorry, I never meant for…”

“Calm down, it’s not like it’s your fault,” you laugh.

He flinches.

“I don’t blame All Might, either. It was my own stupid mistake. That’s how I learned you don’t emulate heroes! Noble sacrifice isn’t. That. Noble.” You poke his chest with your index finger to punctuate each word. “When you have something to offer the world, it’s important to know your limits, and to set boundaries. Because once people learn you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, they’ll take, and take until there’s nothing left.”

Toshinori touches his scar reflexively, fingers spreading protectively, pensively over the destroyed flesh. Then his hand clenches into a fist. “I understand… but still… if someone’s life is at risk, I can’t sit around and do nothing. Someone has to stand up and help, even if it’s dangerous. Someone has to be a hero, so everyone else can live happy lives!”

A smile spreads slowly across your lips. Partly a smile of admiration, from the vestiges of your youthful heart that still loves heroes… and partly the sly smile of a villain just before they dive into a victorious monologue.

“You’re right. That’s why I can’t do nothing if I see you in real trouble. If I decide to use my quirk to ease your pain, it’s not because you asked me to, or because I feel obligated. It’s because I want to. It’s because I weighed the risks, and decided. It hurts me to see you in pain, too, you know.”

His lower lip trembles. Before you know what’s happening, his hand is circling your waist, pulling your hips against his narrow ones, his mouth on yours. His lips are thin and chapped, but warm, making up for their lack of substance by softly giving way as you press against them, parting against yours. You let out a muffled moan. Your hands run over his back, exploring every jagged vertebrae and defined shoulder muscle hidden under his baggy dress shirt, finally coming to rest at the base of his neck, stroking the edge of that soft yellow hair you had longed to feel.

“Are you… using your quirk?” he pants.

“No.”

“Ah. Then this just feels really good.” He holds you tighter.

#Toshinori Yagi #toshinori x reader #all might x reader #bnha #all might #angst and fluff #toshi and reader are both huge dorks #my writing

[kob131]

https://sssn-neptune-vasilias.tumblr.com/post/620377137095049216/blakes-honestly-just-a-bad-mouthpiece-for-this

https://sssn-neptune-vasilias.tumblr.com/post/620375255340466176/blake-belladonna-as-shes-been-written-in-the

Remember when I said that RWBY tends to get bitched out by people for basically not adhering to their political views?

Well, who’d like to see some examples?

Blake’s honestly just a bad mouthpiece for this story. She’s a bad vehicle for this entire subplot. She wrapped up her ears for a whole year, knowing that she didn’t want to deal with the consequences of being a Faunus in a human academy. She didn’t want the dirty looks, or the racism, the anger, the resentment, so, like Ilia did initially, she hid. She hid and let Velvet and Sun be victims of racism, because arguing that someone else doesn’t deserve to be called dirty names was easier than arguing about herself. But Blake doesn’t get to come down from her ivory tower, and her giant mega-mansion on an island where “space is a commodity” and tell people who’ve been orphaned from Dust Mine collapses, who’ve had friends and families lynched by angry mobs, who’ve actually experienced the worst that racism has to offer, that their anger is wrong. She doesn’t get to use her privilege to silence those who don’t have any. And I refuse to listen to her for as long as she tries to. Someone who shucks and jives and apologizes to some drunk racist asshole spew his hate and lets a Schnee- another daughter of privilege- stand up for her, is someone who’s story I’ve heard too many times, who I’m too tired to listen to. Where’s my Sienna book, because as far as I’m concerned she’s the only one who ever actually stood for something 

... So?

So what Blake hide her ears? No rational person wouldn’t try to hide something that they think would land them in serious trouble? Not to mention it has nothing to do with what Blake fights for (equality for her people.)

She never ‘let’ anyone be victims of racism. She was openly hostile to Cardin and went out of her way to humiliate him. She fought with Weiss because of her racism towards Sun. Nobody got away with it. Unless you mean ‘Blake should have physically assaulted these people’ in which case: that’s illegal for good reason, Cardin could just use it to get Blake in trouble, it would have REINFORCED Weiss’ racism and Velvet and Sun are their own people, who can decide to confront them or not. Just because you’re a violent idiot doesn’t make it right or smart.

And guess what? Not only did Blake never actually say their anger was wrong, their ACTIONS were. (You know, like mass destruction).

Not only does Blake NOT have more privilage than these people (her family being well off doesn’t matter here).

This was Martin Luther King Jr.’s birth home. ... Pretty fucking good, especially for his time huh? 

You don’t refuse to listen to Blake because of ‘privilege’: You refuse to listen because you’re a violent idiot, thinking that ignoring some random drunk guy being racist is bad even though he’s fucking drunk and random, why the hell would Blake CARE about him? Reminder that Blake WAS NOT HAPPY that Weiss did that. 

Blake was being the bigger person: something you, a real person, failed to be.

P.S. Funny you don’t mention Adam here. What’s wrong, did you figure out Sienna basically MADE Adam?

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

Blake Belladonna, as she’s been written in the series so far, would see what’s going on in America right now, and would leave her gated community to perform a citizen’s arrest on some rioters who were looting an insured Target to show that “we need to hold each other accountable before we can expect the police to stop murdering us in the streets” and that’s exactly the problem with this show right now. The entire racism subplot of this show focuses so heavily on weeding out the “few bad apples” from the White Fang to ensure that it remains completely peaceful to the point of impotency, but refuses to show- let alone prosecute- the racism and racists that TWF were rallying against in the first place.

“Peaceful to the point of impotency-”

You know SSSN, I know you’re conflating “Peaceful” to “Impotent”. I don’t know why you think trying to avoid that is helping anything.

And yes, you should be doing that. You should’ve been rooting out the bad dapples in your fucking movement. Because otherwise you get shit like this, where people of all races are flipping the rioters the bird (including other black people) because they hate the violence and destruction. To say nothing of how white supremacist rhetoric was all but DEAD before this shit started years ago and is now rising up. Almost like being a violent jackass to everyone creates wounded people racist prey upon.

P.S. I guess Jacques Schnee doesn’t exist since apparent there’s no racism. Funny, I swore I could have remembered him being in about 80% of the last Volume.

RoosterTeeth has been targeted for a LOT of issues the past couple of weeks, and have come out and actively apologized for their tonedeafness and their inaction and their compliance. But if RT really wants me to believe that they’re trying to change- besides standing up for their black employees first and foremost- they NEED to take a closer look at this show and realize that the message they’ve been sending isn’t a good one. It’s the message of people who see any disruption of “peace” as more egregious than the racism that’s gotten more people killed than the rioting or looting ever could.

Yeah, I don’t know what happened there so I don’t care.

And that wasn’t the message. Disruptions of peace that didn’t involve harming the innocents was shown as good and progressive. It was the massive amount of violence that was shown to be the problem. It was made pretty fucking clear, they’re not masters of subtly here. You’re just violent.

I was willing to come on this journey while Blake was leaving the White Fang behind because she couldn’t agree with their methods.

Proof.

I was hurt when the show kept using TWF as base level grunts for nearly every major altercation that we’d seen up to season 3.

If I said “I’m hurt when they portrayed all the humans in this conflict as racists with no redeeming qualities”- Guess what you’re reaction would be? because I’m pretty sure it’d be what I’m thinking here.

I still hugely disagree with the “reveal” of Adam’s character, and I’m still extremely upset that they would choose to write someone like Adam as not only a high ranking lieutenant, but then the LEADER of the White Fang with nearly ZERO dissent from the rest of the group.

*points to the riots* Is it really that hard to believe?

Murdering Sienna Khan before she’d even gotten to explain her stance on violence was a godawful choice.

SHE DID.

Sienna: I was one of the first to suggest violence where violence was necessary. Peace bred complacency and acceptance of our place in the world. I will not allow humanity to push us down without pushing them back. But the destruction of the Huntsman Academies crosses a line! The loss of the CCT has brought global communication to a crawl! And the White Fang is more of a target now than ever before! You have justified humanity's campaign against us, and for what?! Empty promises from a group of humans? Humans we still know nothing about, and come and go as they please! These are not examples of strength, Adam. They are examples of your talents being diminished by shortsightedness!

Finding out just how privileged Blake actually is due to her family’s status was my final nail in the coffin for Blake’s roll as a mouthpiece in this story. 

It’s almost like standing against racism has nothing to do with privilege, it has to do with making things better for other people and empathy.

Blake’s conversion of Ilia to her “peaceful to the point of impotence” stance on this issue despite Ilia’s very real and valid reasoning for being THROUGH with peaceful protesting was TIRING.

That being she thought there was no other way even though it doesn’t seem like it was active for very long. 

Having characters like Marrow and Sun and Neon and Velvet and all the other Faunus we’ve seen thus far who aren’t a part of TWF be completely silent or dismissive of the issues they’re facing- as if they couldn’t give half a shit, as if it was all happening to other people so standing up for their community isn’t a top priority- is really getting tired.

Because it was. They're not a collective, they’re individual people with their own lives and shit to deal with. 

And Sun wasn’t dismissive: he was hostile towards the White Fang. Probably because they were violent and cult-like.

We’ve had more “racism” aimed at Penny for being a robot than we’ve had aimed at all of our Faunus characters since this show started

Number of times penny has been discriminated: ... Uh... Zero.

It’s officialy: SSSN doesn’t watch the show.

And if RT really wants me to believe they’re trying to change, they need to look at these issues and decide where on the side of history they want their story to end up; because right now, it’s on the same side as the people who just wanted MLK to stop marching because he was “upsetting the peace.” 

As opposed to you, who would call his movement ‘impotent’ and become a walking example for the KKK to use to make black people look like thugs?

This shit is why I hate you: you only defend Sienna because she’s the closest to your position, never realizing how close Sienna and Adam really were. Reminder that Adam became the way he was because SIENNA USED HIM to push her methods, YOUR methods, forward. Adam becoming a racial supremacist and radicalizing the orgnazation towards endless violence? That happened in the real world, with it becoming a belief that everything in US is racist, causing people to lash out, making the government stop them and using that as proof that the US is racist. 

Instead of becoming better people, both the fictional White Fang and the real life movements became walking cesspools.

And before you try calling racism: One look through my blog shows I’m against the police in this issue and I recently tried talking down one of my friends who tried to imply white people have it worse. Face facts: you’re an entitled brat, thinking that reform should be immediate despite how unrealistic and dangerous that is and you think your media is owed to be on your side.

Grow the fuck up.

[piratekingimogen]

you don’t belong here

word count: 2158

part 2

The room went silent when Imogen’s eyes locked on mine– or maybe I just stopped processing sounds. Shock had emptied my lungs like a knee to the chest. There wasn’t enough air in the whole room for me to draw breath as her gaze scraped across my body.

(The once-over was familiar: she was searching me for injuries. She had done so many times before, with frustration and fondness mixed on her face. This time, the fondness was gone.)

The corners of her lips twisted downward. “King Jaron.”

“That’s him?” asked a gray-haired woman beside her.

“Oh, it’s him. I would recognize that face anywhere.”

I finally found my voice. “Imogen, what are you doing here?”

“If His Highness addresses me by any name other than ‘king’, you may run him through, Malina,” she told the woman beside her. Roden snickered. Imogen’s icy gaze jumped to him and the sound died. “The same applies to our other prisoner.” Gregor cleared his throat softly and her fingers closed around the hilt of the sword at her hip. “All of our prisoners, in fact,” she said impatiently, rounding on Gregor. “Captain, do you have something valuable to say for once or are you just testing my patience? I warn you, it’s short.”

Wait. Gregor was a prisoner too. Which meant, not necessarily a traitor. Which meant, I thought, my heart lifting, a potential ally. But he had made himself cozy with the pirates, to the point of roaming freely– unless his hands weren’t just folded respectfully behind his back, but tied. Why was he even here? His lips tightened at Imogen’s sharp tone. The sight was absurd, and almost, almost funny. Gregor, captain of the guard of Carthya, ducking his head in reluctant deference to Imogen. King of the pirates. This couldn’t be real.

“My king,” he said. “The conditions may have changed, I admit. But I beg you to remain open for negotiation.” What had he offered her? What did Imogen even want? My head ached. Oh, the devils were having their fun with me now.

“I could just kill him now,” the gray-haired pirate offered, with a sharp-toothed smile. Gregor blanched. “Make a nice little example.”

“Kill them both,” Roden suggested.

“The pirates swore to kill the king of Carthya,” said a second pirate. “It’s a matter of honor.”

“A matter of Devlin’s honor,” Malina said. “Do you want to go take it up with him?”

“Devlin’s honor is all of our honor,” Roden shot back, rising onto his knees. His chains pulled him back.

“Remember your position, mutineer,” Malina said.

“My king,” Gregor said desperately, raising his voice over the quarrel. “If you let me send word to Drylliad–”

“Everyone shut up!” Imogen’s eyes blazed. The noise died immediately. She squared her shoulders. “Take the captain to the root cellar and lock up the mutineer with Erick and his boy. In thirty seconds, King Jaron should be the only one in this cell beside me.”

I wasn’t at all sure I wanted that. Roden’s chains were rapidly unlocked. “Maybe Gregor should stay,” I suggested, my voice high-pitched. I would take any chance of an alliance now.

“Coward!” Roden spat on the ground as he was dragged out, earning him a kick in the calves.

I grimaced. “As it sounds like you’ve already started negotiations– guh–” The tip of Malina’s sword pressed against my throat and I choked on my words.

“Address her as king.”

“Malina. Out,” Imogen ordered. As a pirate caught Gregor’s elbow and spun him toward the door, my suspicions were confirmed: his hands were tied behind his back with knotted rope. Malina sheathed her sword, bowed, and exited. The door clanged shut behind her. The sound echoed through the suddenly quiet cell.

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I pulled myself upright, now that there was no threat of attack from Roden. The rusting chains pulled at my wrists as I folded my hands in my lap. Imogen stood motionless, with light from the barred window catching in the uneven strands of hair that drifted around her chin. A dozen emotions churned in my gut– fear, confusion, fading shock, rising anger. This wasn’t the same Imogen I thought I knew, I reminded myself. I had to tread carefully.

But my sense of self-preservation buckled under the growing weight of my anger, and I had never been as good as Imogen at holding my tongue. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” I said, striving to keep my tone even. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer.

“How long have you been working for the pirates? While you lived in the palace? While we were in Farthenwood?”

She tipped her chin up, expression inscrutable. “Why do you care?”

“Are you kidding?” I rattled my manacles. “Because I want to know if you decided to join the pirates despite finding out they wanted to kill me, or because of it.”

“There you go,” she said. “This isn’t about you. I was trying to get away from you. I thought, surely, this is the one place he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come.” She couldn’t hide the venom in her last words. True or not, the words were meant to hurt, and they did. But the spark of anger in her voice brought a vicious sort of relief. Anger, at least, I could understand.

“And the whole assassination thing didn’t give you pause?” I demanded.

“Why would it?” she said. Her knuckles were white on the hilt of her sword. (Her earlier threats still rang in my ears. I had a vivid image of myself, pinned to the wall like a skewered moth, with blood spreading through my tunic. I needed to tread carefully.) “Because we’re friends? Because you care about me, and want me around? Oh. Wait. No, I think you had something to say about that last time we saw each other.”

I felt a stab of guilt as I remembered what I had said to convince her to leave the castle. It had been for her protection. I resented her bringing it up now, trying to distract me from the matter at hand, reminding me of something I would much rather forget. I had said some cruel things, I knew. But that was a far cry from siding with assassins. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“On the contrary,” she said coldly, “you were very convincing.”

“So this is about me,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“You’re not listening to me!” Her bracelets glittered and clinked as she jabbed an accusatory finger towards me. (I had never seen her wear jewelry before. I had tried to give her a necklace, once, soon after she came to court. She refused it.) “You can’t think about other people for one second. It’s all what does this mean for you, how will this help you win, how are you going to show off how clever and brave you are while everyone else is just– just swept into the corner to collect cobwebs.”

“I did it to protect you,” I said. “I thought Roden would target you next.”

“Why would he do that? He knew I could gut him like a fish!”

“Well, I didn’t know that!” We were both too loud now. Imogen’s sword was out, the tip weaving to punctuate her words, while I strained against my chains. My guilt was becoming harder and harder to ignore. (She knew me too well. If she saw a flicker of regret, she would pounce.) “Since you never saw it fit to tell me you were a master swordsman.”

“Do you really want to make this about things we didn’t tell each other?” she snapped. “Face it. You refuse to trust people that you claim to care for, you would rather be cruel than vulnerable, and it’s finally come back to bite you.”

My cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?” I snapped. “I was stupid, and I shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m sorry.”

“Except you’re only sorry because it got you into trouble,” she said.

“What do you want me to say? And don’t you try to take the moral high ground while you have me chained up with a sword at my throat!”

“I’m not going to attack an unarmed child.”

I couldn’t let the insult slide. “You realize that you’re a child, too.”

“I am a king,” she hissed. “And unlike you, I earned my crown.”

“I have done everything–”

“Look at you,” she said. “You ran away from Carthya. You deceived your regents. What if you had found Devlin, and he recognized you? He would have tortured you until you gave up every secret you knew, and then killed you. You are a danger to your country and to yourself.” Her words hit like physical blows, leaving me gasping. My eyes burned.

“Enough.”

“I’m not done,” she snarled. “You risk your life on idiotic schemes and you make enemies of your only friends. Because we were friends. Whatever you say, we were friends, and I cared for you, and when you sent me away it hurt like you had carved my chest open, and I hated you. And the only way I thought I would find any peace was to get away from you, and then here you came.”

“Imogen, enough!”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Or what?” My chest heaved. “You’ll kill me? Do it. If my life is really so worthless.” In instant, her sword swung up, poised over my pounding pulse. I lifted my chin, bracing myself for a biting pain. Her brow was knotted, her shirt soaked with sweat. Her sword hand shook.

Then she lowered her blade, stepping back. “You just don’t understand.” Step, step– she retreated, shaking her head. “You can’t understand the position you’ve put me in.” Step, step– her back hit the opposite wall and she slid down until she was sitting, her cutlass clattering to the ground beside her. Her expression was suddenly, unbearably weary.

The fire had died in both of us. “Tell me,” I said softly.

“I can’t.”

Neither one of us spoke for some time. I had the strangest feeling of seeing her for the first time. Her cheek bore the shadow of a bruise. Damp strands of hair clung to her neck, twisting like roots. I imagined brushing it back, tucking it behind her ear.

“I don’t suppose you could let me go,” I said. “I won’t come back.”

She shook her head. “Too many of my pirates see your life as a blight on their honor– the one mark that Devlin couldn’t kill. I wouldn’t survive another mutiny– and for Carthya’s sake and mine, I need to remain king.”

“I understand.”

She stood. “Well, I think I know what has to be done.” I took some consolation in her pained expression: she didn’t seem to take pleasure in the thought of my impending death.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to my first mate, and Gregor. See if they can change my mind.”

My heart caught in my throat. “And if not?”

She had the grace to meet my eye. “I’m sorry it ended up like this.”

***

She returned late that night, or maybe early the next morning. I would never be sure which. Her expression was tight, pained. I didn’t need to ask if there was good news. She knelt in front of me, holding a mug of some dark liquid.

“Would you die for Carthya?” she asked.

“If I have to.”

She held out the mug. “I thought… this would be gentler than a sword.”

I caught a bitter whiff as I took it. Poisoned. Ironic that, in the end, I would die the same way as the rest of my family. What would Darius have thought of this? Would he have done the same? No, I knew– he wouldn’t have come here.

“Are you ready to hear my last words? I spent a long time thinking of them,” I said conversationally, swirling the mug.

“Oh?”

“‘Better to die a king than to live a coward’,” I said, and took a gulp of the poisoned drink.

“Hmm. I was hoping there would be an apology in there somewhere,” she said. I opened my mouth to respond, but she pressed a finger to my lips. “No, those were good. Don’t ruin your last words.” My fingertips were turning cold. I took another sip. “Listen, we both did what we thought we had to. Don’t look back. I won’t.”

My hands were numb, and my head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “I really am sorry for what I said,” I mumbled. I took one more sip, then tried to set the mug down gently. It slipped from my grasp, spilling across the packed earth floor. A moment later, I slid to the ground beside it.

taglist: @ascendancejaron

#you don't belong here #pirate king imogen #the ascendance series #imogen #jaron eckbert artolius iii

[marie-x-beaulieu]

( summer bishil, 30, cisfemale, she / her ) Have you seen MARIE-ANNE BEAULIEU around ? I hear they’re a AVTORITYET / ESCORT AT EDEN who can sometimes be CYNICAL & IMPULSIVE. But I also heard they can be INDEPENDENT & EFFICIENT if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around JAVA ADDICT in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright! 

TW: drug mention, prostitution, murder, vague mention of child neglect

- B A S I C -

Name: Marie-Anne Beaulieu Nickname(s): Marie - she usually just goes by this. Age: 30 Occupation:  Avtorityet / Escort at Eden Affiliation: Vasile Birthday: May 28th Zodiac: Gemini Place of Birth: Paris, France Ethnicity: Mexican / Caucasian / Indian Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Languages Spoken: French (fluent - first language), Spanish (fluent) and Russian (the basics only)

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Unknown Mother: Bernadette (deceased) Sibling(s): None  Children: Henry (1 1/2 years old)

- A P P E A R A N C E -

Height: 5′6′’ Weight: 117lbs Hair Color / Type: Light brown, long and slightly wavy Eye Color: Dark brown Piercings / Tattoos: A few small tats here and there; tongue piercing, ears & cartilage piercings Best Features: Her smile. Pinterest Board: x

- P E R S O N A L I T Y -

(+) Independent, Reliable, Efficient, Loyal, Resourceful (-) Cynical, Impulsive, Aloof, Cold-Hearted, Selfish

- L I K E S / D I S L I K E S -

Likes:

Spending time with her son, Henry

Dancing

Drinking (she’s borderline a alcoholic)

Getting high (but only occasionally)

Having sex - m/f...doesn’t matter

Getting paid

Working for the Vasile

Killing

Being frugal, but also spending her hard-earned cash - she’s a bit of a walking contradiction with this one.

Dislikes:

Women & Child Abusers

Openly showing her emotions

Feeling her feelings

People in general, even though she works with them for a living

- B I O G R A P H Y -

Was born in Paris, France, to a single teenaged mother. Bernadette was sixteen when she had Marie.

Her mother was a runaway - she left home at fourteen after a fallout with her parents, and two years later, had Marie. To support herself and her daughter, Bernadette took up sex work - she did everything she could at the time, to earn money. She danced, she stripped and she sold her body. Got really heavy into drugs, and never really stopped.

Although they had a place to live, and she went to school like a normal kid, Marie still pretty much grew up on the streets of Paris. More specifically, in the red light district, as that was where her mother worked. She was exposed to pretty much everything a child shouldn’t be exposed to: neglect, sex, drugs, alcohol, violence...you name it, she very likely saw it go down.

Her mother often snuck her into the back of the clubs that she worked in, and while her mother went off to do her thing, she had the other girls watch Marie, collectively, hiding her in the dressing rooms.

Hands down, Bernadette Beaulieu was a terrible mother. She was selfish, childish and negligent. She never once showed even a little concern for her daughter and how being exposed to such an environment might possibly effect her. She’d already deemed Marie a lost cause, same as her.

Growing up in strip clubs and such places like that, and watching not just her mother but the other ladies, Marie pretty much learned the skills and how to acquire the proper tools of the trade: how to dance, do her makeup, and how to dress in a way that both enticed and intrigued the desired clientele.

Not that she put any of it to use immediately. It wasn’t until she was seventeen and her mother went missing for several weeks before her body was found floating in the Sein River (she’d been strangled to death), that Marie found herself having to make a living on her own. Just barely out of school and she was orphaned, homeless, broke and starving - it was then that she stepped onto a stage for the first time, more naked than she’d ever been in public before. 

First it was exotic dancing and then stripping, but when even that proved to not make her enough money to pay rent and food - as Paris was a notoriously expensive place to live - she started selling her body, and her time, becoming an escort. Started at the bottom, but quickly rose to being one of the highest paid and most sought after escorts in the district. She was young, beautiful, feisty...and the men loved that, apparently.

Marie strangely loved her job, more so than you’d probably expect, but then she grew up in the industry so it was all she knew. 

She loved sex, she truly did. She loved how powerful she felt during the act, even when she wasn’t the one completely in control. And fuck, did she love being the one in control.

She had the heart of a dominatrix, but when she smiled at you, you’d never know it, for she looked like a real softy. That said, she rarely smiled, so that wasn’t really a problem.

She killed for the first time a few months after she started working. It was in self defense, of course; a male client who decided that ‘rough play’ meant something entirely different. It wasn’t as difficult as she she thought it was, taking a life, nor covering up the murder - and she quickly became an expert at both.

She didn’t know it at the time, but her first kill hadn’t gone as unnoticed as she thought, but thankfully it wasn’t by the police, but rather a recruit for the Russian mafia, temporarily stationed in Paris. Impressed by her cleverness and instincts when it came to covering up her tracks, Yakov approached her and offered to mentor her, and train her more extensively in fighting and how to kill, with the full intent of recruiting her into the Vasile gang. It hadn’t taken her long to say yes to the offer.

After accepting Yakov’s offer to train her, they both agreed that continuing her work as a sex worker was not only a great cover but a great training ground. A lot of her targets frequented the red light district, which made it overall rather easy (and more fun) to lure them in.

At twenty-three - after six years of vigorous training with Yakov - she made her way to Chicago, where she went through the initiation, and finally becoming a marked Vasile and one of their assassins. 

Deciding to stay in the city, she once more became an escort as more for a cover than because she needed the money or the work.

Two years passed, before Marie met Malachi Reed, an older gentleman who worked at Forty-Three as a bartender. It wasn’t love at first sight, not by any means - Marie wasn’t the type of girl to fall in love so easily, or really show those kinds of feelings. To her, love was very foreign concept. 

In fact, up until she and Malachi started seeing each other, she had never actually been in a relationship. She’d gone on dates, sure, but nothing other than sex ever came of them. After all, not many men wanted to date a woman who slept with other people for a living - either that, or they offered to take her away and ‘give her a better life’, as if real life was some fucking fairytale that could be escaped so easily.

With Malachi, things were different, which was the only reason she even consented to the idea of dating him in the end. He had been very open-minded, and hadn’t been fazed by her being an escort, accepting that she was a woman simply trying to make a living just like everyone else.

She didn’t inform him about her main job, however. The fact that she worked for one of the main gangs in the city never so much as left her lips, in the two years that they were together.

A year into their relationship, Marie fell pregnant with her son, Henry. He’d been a awful surprise, in the best and worst possible way. She had never wanted a child, so the thought of motherhood had never appealed to her in the slightest. In her line of work, she’d always been careful, taken precautions, but for some reason being with Malachi had completely short-circuited her brain. 

She’d been downright furious when she had discovered she was pregnant, and she had stayed that way for pretty much the entirety of her pregnancy. It wasn’t until Henry was actually born and she was looking at her newborn son’s face for the first time, that the resentment finally melted away, only to be replaced by fear - knowing that she was now responsible for this little person that she’d stupidly and selfishly brought into the world. 

In the end, being a mother was hard work, but it was definitely rewarding and she couldn’t have asked for a more perfect little boy. That said, she would be the first to admit that there were days when she still had doubt and selfish thoughts of fleeing from the responsibility - because being a parent was hard as fuck and she didn’t always have the patience.

Of course, the new found joy of motherhood was quickly overshadowed by the disappearance of Malachi, not five months later. She had no idea where he was, or why he disappeared. Did he leave on his own? Was he killed? Caught in the gang war that was going on within the city? There was literally no clues. 

The only thing she could think of was that he’d willingly left...despite all of his stuff still being at their apartment. It beat thinking his body was possibly laying in a ditch somewhere, and it allowed her to feel something towards the situation that wasn’t overwhelming grief over the death of a beloved one (although she was still in denial that she’d loved him). She felt anger, and resentment. Towards Malachi, specifically, because he was the only one she could blame.

After his disappearance, Marie moved into the Vasile manor with Henry, and they’ve been there ever since.

- W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S -

Her missing boyfriend, Malachi Reed. Name can be changed, obviously. Anyways, this would be such a great connection that is open to so many plot possibilities. (Suggested FCs: Chris Hemsworth, Joseph Morgan, Ryan Guzman, UTP). He’d definitely be 32+

Vasile Connections - ALWAYS!

Co-Workers

Clients

Love Interest (someone to finally melt this little ice queen’s heart)

Friends

Enemies

Any other sort of connections, tbh - I’m literally open to everything!

#crimson.intro #FINALLY i have finished her intro #it took a whole month nearly but i did it #i think i deserve cookies or something for this accomplishment #i'm still not happy with it #but here you go

[mental-health-advice]

I’m really scared of the stated the world is in. Is climate change going to kill me? I feel like there’s no hope and nothing to look forward to and like there’s no reason to plan for my future because there isn’t going to be one. I feel all this pressure and I’m so resentful towards older generations who have cause this and who won’t have to deal with it, I feel so angry at the people who won’t change, the big companies who could cut their carbon emissions so easily but won’t. I’m dying. Tag HJL

Hello HJL, 

These are really valid worries of the world that we are living in today, and I think they are something that we all share, younger people in particular, looking forward to our future. I can totally understand that upset, anger and resentment toward the people who have facilitated all of this, and I think that’s also okay to an extent. While I’d like to be able to reassure you, as you probably know yourself, the future is so unknown and currently not on a great path so I don’t want to say everything is going to be okay and not to worry as I believe this is the mindset that to some degree has got us in this situation already. 

Worry about the future over this is okay as long as it isn’t making you excessively anxious, making you change your daily routines and behaviours (in a a negative way) or becoming on the edge of obsessive. If you feel any of these things apply to you, and it’s negatively impacted your health, I would recommend seeing a professional to talk about this. If it’s some healthy worry that you’d just like to vent and talk about, there are plenty of places to facilitate these types of conversations from online forums, climate change protests and political debates. 

Some things I would say is encouraging around this issue is the ever increasing demand for and support of greener policies and regulations. Political parties are increasingly putting the climate conversation at the front of their political agenda, or basing the majority of their policies around it. Also, as more time goes on there will be more young people in power and (not to be morbid) less older people, so the proportion of people really pushing for stricter approaches to this issue will be increasing. Some big issues we are taking steps to fix, so for example cars are becoming more hybrid/electric and many countries have introduced policy and targets to ban petrol/diesel cars over the next 20 years, for example. And I think that as time goes on, the approaches we take will only get more ‘radical’ and hopefully more timely in their implementation. 

For you yourself, I think getting involved in the conversation could be helpful! Attending some protests, perhaps writing some blog posts, educating the people around you and writing letters to firms/government could make you feel a bit more in control. I know it might not feel like much, but as we know everyone has to get involved and do their bit for big change to happen, so that could be something that helps you deal with these worries. Doing some healthy research into the current success stories in regards to climate change instead of getting swamped down in all the negatives might be helpful too, there are lots of organisation and NGO’s doing some amazing work which could make you a bit more hopefully and positive. 

I hope this has helped you out some, these are very real worries and require action so I’d say to try and be yourself the change you wish to see in the world. Take care. 

Hollie x

#HJL #advice #advice blog #mental health #climate activism #climate change #death #anxiety

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

What analysis do you have about Mike? His character shifted a lot in ST3 but IMO it’s not surprising to see him lashing out at authority figures but lashing out at his friends and ignoring them? What do you make of that character progression?

Ah, Mike. To attempt to understand Mike in Season 3, first we need to examine him in Seasons 1 & 2.

In Season 1, Mike is depicted as a nerd, first and foremost. He is a bullying victim, as are his friends. He lacks self-control, often acting on impulse or emotion. He is smart, but he lacks Dustin’s worldliness or Lucas’ sensibility. He is ostensibly the leader of his friends, carrying himself with a level of stubborn authority. He mistrusts authority figures, as they are obstacles to him getting what he wants. Even Hopper, who helps save Will, is mistrusted at first, and then is shown to have hidden El away from him. He himself is the only one he trusts to take charge. The real motivation for Mike, though, lie in his relationships, or at least two in particular.

Season 1 begins Mike’s series-long character arc as being driven by a fear of loss. He is single-minded in this regard. While everyone is upset at Will’s disappearance, Mike takes it the hardest, and he’s the most adamant that they do everything possible to find him, including recruiting the strange girl with scary powers. He is accusatory if he suspects others aren’t as concerned about Will as he is. He stands up to his bully for what seems like the first time because the bully mocks Will’s “death.” He loses his mind and screams at Eleven when he sees what he thinks is Will’s body being dragged out of the quarry. His world fell apart, and he rides home crying and falls into the arms of his mother. He is despondent afterwards, and tenderly looks over pictures drawn by Will. These pictures are all he has left. He snaps at El for fiddling with his radio, bitterly resentful towards her for getting his hopes up. His hopes are renewed, fortunately, when Will’s singing comes through the radio. His raging internal fire, the paladin’s inner light, once nearly quenched, has been relit.

He is steadfast in his loyalty to El at this point, to the end that he defends her against Lucas. He certainly wouldn’t be wrong in doubting her for messing with their compasses, but he trusts her that she was only trying to keep them safe. If he doubts her again, they may never find Will. It’s been some time since I’ve watched Season 1, but I believe it is around this time that his bonding with Eleven kicks up a notch. I feel it is significant, or at least not totally irrelevant, that his feelings for her increase the closer they get to finding Will. I see it as an interaction of him associating El with finding Will, as his is overcome with increasing amounts of hope, relief, and gratitude. He is irrevocably bonded with El now, and his feelings for her become similar to those for Will.

This makes losing her traumatic for him. He obsessively reaches out to her for nearly a year, unable to accept that she is gone. We know she’s out there, but he doesn’t. He turns his attentions to Will, always being the first to notice something wrong. He’s terrified at something happening to Will again, and this time El wouldn’t be around to help. His hypervigilance perfectly fits the character we see in Season 1. He is the epitome of a paladin, keeping a steadfast watch over his cleric. He is still the same emotionally unstable, snarky kid, but is incredibly soft with Will. He is almost reckless in his willingness to stay with Will despite the dangers. If he loses Will, he’s got nothing left. We can see that meeting Will is his fondest memory. I do not think he was playing it up just to try to reach through to Will. 

He is conflicted when El returns. His relief and happiness are so palpable that it’s hard to believe it was simple acting. It’s short lived though, as both Will and El are taken to separate, and highly dangerous, situations. He has no idea if either one will return. These are his two most important people, two people he’s nearly lost already, and he may never see either one again. In the end, they both come back safe and sound, and we’re left with just one question: what is life for Mike now that he has both?

Season 3 answers this for us after a hint during the Snowball scene in Season 2. Mike is obsessed with El, which is something that increasingly seems to hurt Will. In Season 3, Mike seems to take Will for granted. We see him ditch his friends for El. Though we get the sense that he’s gone on many movie “dates” with Will along with Max and Lucas, the dialogue suggests they are relatively rare in comparison to him with El. His inability to balance these relationships costs him both of them early on in the season. I’ve spoken about the contrasts in how he reacts to these before, but, in short, losing Will seems to evoke more panic in him. The paladin has lost his powers due to a violation of his code of honor. He is not quite the same, and must atone. For him this means repairing what he’s broken.

He eventually seems to regain both relationships, to at least some extent, by the end of the season. We see paladin Mike start to make a comeback, as he shows his leadership, bravery, and devotion again. It is all for naught, though, as he loses both El and Will again. This must be a cornerstone of Season 4, and Mike’s character arc in particular. How does Mike cope with this? How does it affect his relationships with El and Will? He shows unease at the idea of Will not wanting/needing Mike in his life, but El is the one he talks to about calls and visits. Mike still can’t balance his feelings for them. Distance is the ultimate test of a relationship, and it’s one I hope isn’t glossed over. These relationships are Mike’s character arc, and we need to be able to see what distance reveals for them.

My personal opinion is that Will truly holds his heart, but he’s unable to reconcile that, so he transfers (unconsciously, of course) those feelings onto El, a more acceptable target. This is why his romance with her is purely physical, without the intimacy and tenderness he shares with Will. He tries to avoid his feeling for Will in Season 3, but they come through when Will gets upset. This is the only time we see Mike mad at Will, and it comes as Will attacks his relationship with El. Even then, though, his anger is very short lived, replaced instead with regret. He simply can’t cope with causing Will pain, and he may not yet realize that he is the one causing most of it. I hope the Duffers allow this to be explored.

Of course, I don’t write the show, so this could all be entirely wrong. I hope I sufficiently explored what you wanted me to touch on here.��

#stranger things #mike wheeler #byeler #mileven #spoilers

[jj-ktae]

Erotica - Part 3 - (M)

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader Genre: SMUT Summary: You’re a rookie porn actress on the rise and everything goes well until you get offered a role in a big-budget porn movie, starring the most famous actor in the porn industry. Words: 5939 Warning: Read at your own risk

- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Epilogue -

Part 3

Today is a good day. After a week-end of self-care – which means vegetating, you dread going back to work. It’s good to have time for yourself, and most of the time you do, but this movie implies a lot of mishaps. When it’s not about the script, it’s about pictures, interviews or even rehearsal. You wonder how a porn movie can be so demanding of your boring yet precious time, but you don’t fuss over it. You agreed and knew what it meant.


You also received the first payment and couldn’t be happier.

Your manager is way calmer now, and you know it’s not out of pure kindness but because you became his next cash cow. He often comes and asks about your future projects, implying you need to go to the yearly eroticism fair because this is how you’ll get more contacts and opportunities.

It makes you consider it twice when you think about it. So far you always went with the flow, the probability of being of any help to your mother enough to make you forget about anything else.

But how will you be able to live once everyone in the industry knows you?

It’s good to have recognition. It’s good under any other circumstances, that meaning anywhere else than in the sex industry. You don’t want to be seen by numerous perverts, the thought enough to make you shiver. You have a life to live and you don’t plan on being a porn actress all your life.

The next question is then: what will you do later?

It was smooth so far. You’re definitely not fine with your job, but being an amateur meant earning money without ending on a big poster like you probably will soon. It meant acting for a small audience without feeling scared of being recognized by anyone.

But after that, once you’ll be done with your promising career, what will be waiting for you?

You know the answer. Nothing. It is a given that once you won’t be good enough for classic porn movies, you’ll be thrown out, probably in the cougar section or ‘horny step-mother’.

It makes you question everything. It almost makes you give up on the movie, the lack of people to ask advices to not helping in your quest for answers. The other actresses look at you like you stole their job, some of them whisper about how lucky you are to act with someone as professional as JB – also known as ‘the jackpot’.

Said JB keeps on being the same pro-sex-god. To his defence, he stopped spitting nonsense to your face. He keeps a straight face when you seem uncomfortable with the ‘script’, doesn’t question your motivations when you say you don’t want to do a photoshoot. He stays silent when he hears you sigh in relief as soon as you go out of the studio.

He knows something is bothering you but pretends he doesn’t see it. It’s true that your relationship did get better, but it doesn’t cross the polite small talks. You insist on keeping a distance, probably because you think he is a pervert, and Jaebum wonder if he will ever be fine with that.

On top of that, he finds it hard to act with you.

Jaebum has the experience of a guy who acted in hard-core porn movies. It’s a strange feeling to act like he cares about the person he is having sex with. He always did and still is doing his best to act accordingly to what his fellow actresses want, but this time it’s different. This movie implies hidden feelings and never in his life did he had to do it. He was fine with a couple of scenes where he had to be gentle, but it was starting to look a little bit too much like real life, with sex scenes similar to one of a couple on a daily basis.

And for this, Jaebum almost has no experience. It’s understandable that it makes him feel exhausted, physically in pain, even. He finds it hard to last long, as much as he starts wondering when his touches became as pleasurable for him as they’re supposedly are for you.

But you keep on doing things like you were forced to do them, and as much as Jaebum keeps on ignoring it, he doesn’t think it’s fair for everyone on set - including him, to act like they are not affected by your unsuitable behaviour.

It’s during one of the script meeting that he understands he must dig for more. It’s a typical Monday and your face looks as uninterested as ever.

The screenwriter came up with awesome ideas for the rest of the movie, and decided to change a couple of things. His tone is as excited as ever, just like the director. “So, as you all know, Erotica’s strongest point is the focus on a sexual discovery. This week is the last week of filming, and I changed something about the last two sex scenes.”

This is enough to make you look up from the long document on the table, curious.

“We started with sensuality,” he licks his lips, eyes scanning every member of the staff in the meeting room, before his eyes fall on yours. “We should offer a very romantic grand finale.”

Jaebum leans on the table, a tad disturbed with the way things are going. His head falls on his hand, and everything sounds a little bit more risqué, now.

“So as you remember, I wanted to finish with the shower scene, BUT” he makes everyone jump on their seats, their attention focused on what he will say next. “Feelings. We need to end with feelings.”

What the hell does he mean?

He seems to be reading your mind, because he laughs, his eyes going from excited to naughty. “Y/N, we need to see feelings... We started with tenderness, then added sensuality. We know it’s a journey, so it’s only natural that you both end with an overwhelming scene. That scene won’t be the shower scene. We need to find a type of chemistry we have yet to find in a porn movie.”

The director nods like it makes sense. “It’s true. People need something deeper. We need to target people who need a break from the BDSM and choking and spanking. There are people who love soft sex, the type of sex that can be good with people you love.”

You don’t understand a word. What’s the point of doing porn if you’re supposed to act like you love the other one? It doesn’t make sense, and you’re not even sure it can be considered porn after what he said.

“What we need is to see the chemistry. At the beginning, it didn’t matter, you did great, it was instinctive. Now we need cohesion. We need to keep up with the promise of a different project.” The screenwriter continues, and everyone nod.

The director stands. “However you do it is up to you.” He points a finger at you and Jaebum, before smiling. “See you all later.” His assistants run after him, and you’re left with nothing but worry.

Damn movie.

Your manager taps your shoulder as soon as you leave the room, and you can see he is apprehensive. “Don’t freak out. Think of it as a basic role in a special movie.” The man smiles awkwardly, not bothered by your exasperated sigh as you leave for your next scene.

This week, they want to focus on the story, which means filming the non-sexual parts of the movie. You have to walk into a park, go to a restaurant, do all the casual things people do.

They say even porn movies need a storyline, and these are important. The only positive thing is that you will only be making out and talk with Jaebum.

The latter appears before you can change your clothes. You squint his lazy figure before walking to the hanging rail. The makeup and fashion staff aren’t here yet, which makes you wonder why he even bothered to come.

“I was wondering,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe. He seems to be hesitant, for his hands are restless, by his sides. “Are you still okay filming this movie?” His tone is flat, with no hint of reproach or anger.

You stop looking through the numerous outfits to give him your full attention. “I don’t know. I don’t. But I must. Why?” It’s funny, because for once ever since you met him, he doesn’t seem cocky in his way of speaking.

Jaebum shrugs, his inner self searching for the right words. “Because this movie is ridiculous, in my opinion.”

You raise your eyebrows as your mouth opens. Never did Jaebum questioned the job. He always did as he was told like everything was just fine.

“You mean, the chemistry thing? Or the whole movie?” You snort. Of course it’s ridiculous, it took him so long to notice that much?

“The whole movie.” He states, dead serious. “At some point I know chemistry is impossible, I got the memo.” He smiles, his tone back on mocking mode.

You don’t get it. You’re not his best-friend but you do act politely. He stopped being a jerk so you stopped being a bitch. Why is he even acting like you resent him? “We do get along.”

“Your manager told my manager that you think I’m a weird pervert who is most probably a sex-addict.” Jaebum explains slowly, proud to see your face become pale.

You did say that to your manager. It was that day Jaebum gave you three orgasms and your manager teased you yet again. Filming became okay, boring even, for it consisted of sex after sex.

You sigh, “I didn’t mean that. He was teasing me.”

“What was he teasing you about?” Jaebum’s next question makes you wonder why you have such a big mouth sometimes.

“Nothing worth sharing.” You utter, too tired to talk back.

Jaebum looks impressed and walks deeper into the room. “Rookie,” he takes a sit in front of the vanity table. “you’re not fierce today.” He smirks, the light behind him turning his face dark.

“I was never fierce. I’m just…lost?” You answer weekly, too confused with your situation. Maybe it was a mistake to become a porn actress.

“Why did you pick this profession, then?” Jaebum queries, leaning against the chair. “You could help your mother with a “regular” job, too.” He understands the struggle, but if it ruins your life, maybe it’s not something you should do.

The porn industry is no better than any other industry and it’s easy to fall into sticky situations. One always should check everything when it comes to a project. Actors can be pricks, and some agencies don’t follow the basic rules of keeping their actors clean.

You become defensive again. “I told you why.” You feel guilty enough, you don’t need Jaebum to come and make you feel even worse about your own life choices.

“What I mean is,” he gets up and drags himself toward you, before leaning so he can get at your level. “Is the satisfaction you feel when you send money to your mother higher than the satisfaction you would feel if you were not a porn actress but were earning less money?”

You don’t know what to answer. Putting things this way gives you another insight. There aren’t many jobs that include money without spending days after days at work. The agency pays you enough money to live decently, pay your father’s debt monthly and give some cash to your mother. Having a regular job – if you consider your poor education – means earning less money. You wouldn’t bear you mother calling you again because shark loans threatened her.

You chuckle, because for the first time you think that maybe this job isn’t a bad one. “So you can be cerebral.”

Jaebum smiles. “I have a big dick, but my brain is huge.” He winks playfully before straightening his back. “I can actually think on my own. Surprising, hm?”

You roll your eyes. “Anyways. I don’t know. If I think about my mother, things are easier yet complicated. She doesn’t know what I really do for a living.”

Jaebum doesn’t sound surprised at all. “I figured that much. You don’t seem to be the type of person who boasts about her occupation.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Especially when I think about how my life is going to be ruined after this.” You grab one of the water bottle provided by the staff. “Who wants to have a relationship with a porn actress?”

Jaebum snorts, unfazed. “We’re not talking about Hollywood. I doubt every guy you meet knows about your movies.”

“But I can’t hide it either. It’s a constant fear. Are we going to be porn stars all our lives?” Maybe Jaebum wants to. Even if he wanted to stop, it’s easier for guys to meet girls who don’t watch porn movies. He can live just fine.

Jaebum tilts his head, but turns around again. “I don’t plan on being a porn star all my life. Once I make sure I don’t need to work anymore, I’ll stop.”

You always thought he was glad to have sex and get paid for it. “You don’t?”

He laughs, his face transforming totally it’s the first time he bursts out laughing in front of you. “I’m full of surprises today, right?”

You can only nod, looking impressed. So this guy can talk about something else than sex and actually thinks about his future out of the industry.

He walks away, whistling.

--

It’s a calm week. The scenes are peaceful. They involve more dialogue and less action, except for the moments you need to make out. You admit that Jaebum is good at making out. He knows when to tease and when to stop, he can be gentle but firm and more often than not, you find yourself aroused when he is done with you. It’s frustrating, but you blame it on science.

Also, you were always told you could get wet with the simplest touches.

These short scenes make you see him differently. He is more obedient, he lets you go your pace, helps when you have trouble acting, and even makes jokes when you feel anxious. It’s a drastic change, but it makes you feel comfortable. You suspect he is maybe trying to make things easier for you and grabs the opportunity of non-sexual scenes to show himself more.

You see him read one time, between shots at the park. He stays quiet and thanks the staff as they fix his hair.

Maybe you were totally wrong about him.

This leads to more talk between you. Jaebum shares that he is an only child and told his parents about his job. He explains he saves money so he can invest in real estate business and will stop as soon as he earns enough money from his investments.

He seems responsible and down on earth, aware that this job is temporary.

The week goes by in the blink of an eye. It makes you situate your level of civility with Jaebum, and you come to the conclusion that the boy isn’t what you think he was. You’re surprised even, when you start appreciating the fact that he is your co-actor. His experience often comes in handy, and he doesn’t mind doing most of the work when you don’t know what to do with your body.

The staff is delighted. You can see it by the way they look at you during these scenes. You were apparently able to create the chemistry that goes beyond sex and more toward a relationship.

Jaebum finds the situation odd. Making-out was never in his books when it came to his job, and he has trouble dealing with this. He decides to give everything he can, no matter how much he doesn’t like it. He is the one who has experience, even though he wouldn’t say it is helping for the current situation. The scenes are too soft, too mushy, there is way too much affection.

It’s starting to look like real life and he doesn’t like how private his actions became.


The week ends with glee. Jaebum knows there are only two sex scenes left, and he is happy that things are coming to an end. You feel the same, even though you need to sort your own worries out and decide whether you will keep on doing this or not.

Jaebum tells you to think about your own satisfaction first, that people around you shouldn’t put a cub on your life. He says this job is like any other job, that your intentions are one of a girl who wants to protect her family.

You wish you could agree with him.

--

“We will start in ten.” The staff runs everywhere. It’s never easy to film a scene in a shower. The fake bathroom is grey and white, with a big walk-in shower and the glaze walls leave no intimacy. It’s beautiful yet scary, giving you chills as you imagine the things you’ll do there.

Jaebum is absolutely unfazed, his headphones deep into his ears and head bobbing to the music. You don’t get why they insist on fixing his hair, but he doesn’t complain and almost falls asleep, the hair-stylist scolding him for not tilting his head properly.

Your phone rings, making you edge on your seat. It’s unusual for your mother to call you in the middle of the day considering she doesn’t want to bother you.

You greet her and understand something is not right when you hear her raspy voice. “Is everything okay?” you utter, trying to keep the conversation as private as possible.

Your mother sighs and coughs, and you can hear shuffling, like she is moving way too much. “I received the money today, I wanted to thank you.” She stops to cough, but you can hear her chuckle. “Sorry to disturb you!” she finishes in the middle of sniffs.

“You’re not disturbing me but are you okay? You sound sick.” She does sound different and you’re definitely not stupid. Something is wrong with her.

She stops coughing right away. “I’m fine. I just caught a cold, but I’m fine!” You know her. She doesn’t want you to worry about her health. You mother has always been this way; she always acts like everything is okay.

Maybe it’s a mother thing.

“Did you eat? Did you go to the doctor? I can send more money?” You propose, your heart-rate increasing at the thought of your mother, alone and sick.

She laughs cutely, “I am okay. I’ll eat something when I feel less nauseous. Don’t worry about me.”

“How can I not? Take care of yourself, mom!” You can only scold her because you feel useless.

When was the last time you visited her? Maybe it’s because you send her money. Maybe you think it’s enough caring on your side and you don’t need to move because she can manage just fine with what you send her. You sigh loudly when she agrees briefly and hangs up - she knows you’re the nagging type - leaving you worried right before filming.

You can’t keep on thinking about your mother when you’re about to film a sex scene. You rest your face on your hands, sighing loudly.

You don’t notice Jaebum, who is now looking at you, brows raised. “What’s going on?” he asks, nodding toward you.

You look up and shake your head, “Nothing important,”. You get up and start stretching, your body suddenly stiff with worry. “my mother is sick.” You end up telling him, maybe because you consider him as a colleague now. It’s not like he can do anything about it anyways.

Jaebum gets up when the staff tells you it’s time to start, and while you walk away to find the crew, he follows suit, his eyes not leaving your tensed face.

How can you even do this now? You can’t focus on sex when you have constant images of your mother. Every step feels so heavy as you enter the bathroom. The staff is ready, the heater is blowing hot air and creating steam on every glass,

You sigh, hand fumbling with your bathrobe to untie it.

The director approaches you slowly, not even sensing something is wrong and frustrating you even more. “Chemistry. Remember?” he knows you so well. Everyone knows you’re not giving your all.

Maybe it’s not worth the effort, after all.

You remove the thick bathrobe and step in front of the shower. You don’t look behind you, for Jaebum must be about to get naked. You don’t need him to be cocky right now.

Even though you got used to it, you suddenly feel like crying for no reason.

You hear soft whispers and the sound of a camera flashing, before a cameraman steps next to you. Jaebum is right behind you, and you can feel his calm breathing, building goosebumps right at your nape.

“Action!” It makes you flinch, the way the voice echoes in the empty bathroom, you step into the now running water, followed by a cautious Jaebum. You don’t want to act like you like it. You hate it.

You turn around, sighing when the way too hot water hits your hair. Jaebum is right in front of you, walking carefully until you’re pressed against the wall. He halts, a warm hand grabbing your own cold one to kiss your fingers.

He got better at it. It’s not like him to be this soft, though.

You look up from your joined hands to his eyes, only to find them staring at you. He smiles cheekily and sticks his body to yours.

His whole body is already turning red from the hot water but he doesn’t seem to mind, and even leans to kiss the corner of your lips. You immediately wrap your stiff arms around his neck to bring him closer, eyes fluttering shut in hope it would make you focus on the task at hand.

Jaebum kiss his way to you jaw, then neck, before licking your collarbone. You shiver some more, but can’t find it in you to do something. You’re frozen, blank. It’s the first time you’re totally clueless, unmoving and pensive when you’re supposed to be moaning you heart out.

Jaebum notices it, and before the director can yell at you two to stop being such unprofessional people, he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze to get your attention.

“Relax, she will be fine,” He breathes, voice deeper than ever. You blink back, a subtle nod telling him you will focus. Jaebum smiles, his face comforting and peaceful “now kiss me.”

You don’t know why you comply, but you do. Maybe it has to do with the way he looked at you, and how it made you forget about everything else for a moment. You don’t have the time to think about it further as his hands grab your face to tilt your head and deepen the kiss.

It makes you hum in pleasure, and you can almost hear the relieved sighs of the crew around you. Jaebum’s tongue curls against yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks to make you calm down.

You almost melt, the water soaking you two and running against your faces. He parts from you with a heavy sigh, a little bit embarrassed to be turned on by such a tiny move. His hands leave your face, but his eyes don’t move. They are locked, making you wonder what he is thinking.

He never looks at you with such intensity.

You blink, hands going to his sides to bring his body closer to yours. He doesn’t complain, letting you do whatever you feel is needed without a hint of arrogance. You caress his skin, looking down when you can’t stand his burning gaze anymore. Your fingers graze every part of his skin it can reach, from his hips to shoulders. He offers his body, and you guess he finally stopped looking at you when he goes back to your neck, sighing.

He likes it, he likes it for real. Jaebum doesn’t know how to act this soft. You might not know him that well, but his style is precise. He does things because it’s what he is supposed to do. Right now, he is doing things out of pure will and impulsiveness.

You thought you would find it weird if he ever decided to act like someone who cares because it doesn’t suit him. So why is it that you’re enjoying it more than you should?

You even hug him closer, not even conscious enough to notice the cameraman filming your connected pelvises. Your head finds shelter into his chest, and your lips part against his toned chest, offering open mouthed kisses and soft licks.

Jaebum softly grabs your leg and wraps it around him, his other hand tracing a pattern until it reaches you breast. He gives it a soft squeeze right before his thumb starts toying with your nipple. You gasp against him, your head now a mess of drenched locks and dripping water.

You lean against the wall, your hands around his shoulders so you can wrap yourself around him totally. He gets the hint and before you can ask for more, his hand aims for your belly. “Shall we go down…?”

Yes. You want to say yes. Too many unexpected things are happening. You’re almost shaking, even though the air is suffocating and steam is everywhere around you.

You don’t have the time to speak and prefer not to, because his hand is already going down at an amazingly slow pace, so unlike the Jaebum who is impatient and carnivorous.

He kisses you when his fingers land on your clit. They are burning, even more than your own body who almost collapses on the tiled floor. He swallows your moans and dips further into your flesh, brushing your folds yet not entering you.

You shudder when he grabs your leg with his free hand to pull it apart from him and raise it higher. He nibbles on your lip before licking it and right when you thought you were safe, brings a finger into you.

You almost hit your head against the wall, and you don’t even care that water is entering your opened mouth, because he is kissing his way down to your chest. You try to focus but before you reach for his penis he moves away, clicking his tongue in a disapproving manner.

“Not yet, princess.”

Maybe it’s time to freak out. Princess? Is Jaebum really into his character or is he turning into a madman right now, during a shower sex scene for a porn movie?

He dives further, teeth careful around your breasts, sides and navel. It almost hurts, because it twitches everywhere, from his finger deep inside of you to his wandering lips.

You open your eyes right on time for the cameraman to focus on your ecstatic face, and you refuse to admit you’re not even acting. You’re actually turned on to the point of unconsciously rotate your hips against his playful hand

You feel him smirk and when he looks up, you understand he isn’t playing. You don’t need to be a genius to notice how hard he already is, no matter how neglected his penis had been. He kisses your lower abdomen one last time, before raising your leg higher.

Curiosity gets the best of you so you stare back in shock as the sensuous man pulls out of you to lick his finger, before bringing it back to your pussy lips. By now you know you’re not only wet from the water falling from the ceiling’s shower head. Jaebum feels it, and it makes him smile sweetly, before his impatience gets the best of him.


You refuse to see more when his head goes for your clit. You focus on the pleasure, realizing it’s even more disturbing.

Jaebum knows he should tone it down. He isn’t one to act like this for a movie, no matter how soft they want him to be. So far he had been everything but the gentle type of guy and it was fine by him. He didn’t ask for this movie and most certainly didn’t think it would turn this way.

It’s making him too vulnerable, not because he isn’t acting like himself, but because he is doing exactly what he would do in a sincere and romantic situation.

Which is why he wants to focus on hard-core porn, where no strings are involved and he can pound his way into co-actresses from movies to movies. He got famous for that, so why should he suddenly become the caring type?

He knows why, and it’s the same reason why he started feeling pleasure beyond physical stimulation.

Yet he doesn’t stop, enjoying you breaking in front of him, and relieved he was able to make you think about something else. It shouldn’t matter, he should play his part and not even mind your business, but he knows himself too well to fool his brain.

Him acting like this has only one meaning, one he is willing to put aside for numerous reasons.

The first one is that you think he is a weirdo. The second one that he is a porn actor. The third one is that you are, too, a porn actress. The list could go one for hours, and through the scenes and interactions, he wonders when was the moment he started being too thoughtful about his job and less professional.

Heck, he didn’t even care about you. He isn’t one to fall for sex. It’s his bloody job, he should be immune to this kissing and licking.

Yet he is on his knees, with way too hot water burning his back and lips kissing your pussy like he enjoys it.

And oh does he enjoy it. He is rock hard. He wants to slap himself when he concludes he truly wants to make you see stars. Not because he has to, not because he gets paid for it, but because he finds pleasure and excitement in seeing you shudder.

He even adds a second and third finger, and even though your thigh is getting heavy, he lifts it as much as he can so he can go deeper, and praises himself when you moan out loud.

“Wait, I’m-“ You choke the words, tongue-tied and hands flying to grab his hair and stop him from rubbing his tongue harder against you.

Eventually he stops and slows his pace. His fingers are sloppy now but he doesn’t completely stop, focused on the task yet glancing up when you pull his wet locks away from his face.

You look down, breathless. Jaebum is right there, eyes on you and fingers twisting inside you. His cheeks are a light shade of pink from the heat and even the water seems non-existent as your hands touch his cheeks to caress them.

When was the last time he looked so adorable and soft? 


Never.

“Come here.” You command, blaming the heat for your overwhelmed state. Surprisingly he complies, standing up and instantly sticking his body against yours. He lets your leg fall before grabbing your face with a more familiar harshness and kissing you.

It’s passionate. If the staff wanted chemistry, they have it. You hear gasps, like you’re doing a great job and it’s true, Jaebum is doing just great as he grasps your hips and slowly turns you around.  He hugs you, your wet back against his burning chest and leads you to one of the glaze wall. The steam on the glass turns into indecent prints of your body against the transparent surface. The cameraman rushes behind it to focus on the parts where your breasts press against the hard wall, praising himself for the somewhat artistic effect.

Jaebum attaches himself, raging puffs of air tingling the back of your ear. His hard-on is solid against your butt-cheeks but he teases, rubbing himself slowly. He lets his forehead rest on your shoulder so he can watch himself disappear between the two round and delicious-looking pieces of flesh. You arch your back to meet his moves and it suddenly gets too much for him.

He wants to break you until his mere existence never leaves your damn mind.

You let out a delighted sigh when he bites on your shoulder and almost twerk against him. He grunts and it turns into a whine when the tip of his penis starts twitching. He needs to finish this before something incredibly embarrassing happens.

So he penetrates you to the hilt. He slides in so easily it turns in on even more, the probability of you being aroused enough to initiate slow and hard thrusts against your slippery flesh.

You throw your head back, breathing out and creating more steam on the glass. His hands grip your hips with too much gentleness. His thrusts are long yet firm, with a slight pressure to rub against your inner walls yet soft enough to make you crave for more.

His head doesn’t leave your shoulder, and he even dares asking for kisses, which you give him willingly, head twisting until it almost hurts just so you can have a taste. Inevitably, he goes faster, one of his hand reaching for your clit to make you squirm.

“Jae- bum-” He kisses you harder so the staff doesn’t hear you say his name, but deep inside he is close. He is close because you’re moaning his name and the sound only makes him want to do things no one else should see.

Jaebum doesn’t care about the cameras. He never did, he never had any problems with showing himself, he who gives too little importance to appearance. Let it be one or twenty cameras, he doesn’t give a damn shit and even more now, with you pressed against him and pushing against his dick to impale yourself on it.

You don’t even notice your little slip, your thoughts clouded by the upcoming orgasm.

It’s only natural that he speaks against your mouth, breathless. “Cum with me.” He isn’t ordering around, he is being the needy Jaebum, the one who fails at being cocky when he is about to ejaculate.

You grab his free hand before it becomes too much to handle. Your fingers fit perfectly against his, and while you’re holding the wall with your free hand, he brings your joined hand to your chest, collecting you against him and offering one last push.

You end up finishing at the exact same time, with soft moans and it’s a mess of wriggling and shaking. Jaebum helps you stay up and you freeze, the endorphins way too effective to keep your eyes opened.

“Cut!”

You don’t even hear the director, but you open your eyes right on time to look at the cameraman who is running back to the staff.

“Great work!”

You straighten your back, almost forgetting about where you are but Jaebum is quick to move, emptying you totally and making you shiver some more. The staff stops the water and it’s suddenly too silent.

“You okay…?” You wonder why he is still way too close to your face, but you decide not to ruin everything so you nod.

When you turn around, he is smiling. “Good.”

You run away as fast as you can.

-

#got7 #im jaebum scenarios #jaebum scenarios #jaebeom scenarios #got7 smut #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 jaebum #got7 jaebeom #got7 im jaebum #got7 imagines #got7 imagine #jaebum #Jaebeom #im jaebum got7 #im jaebum #jaebum got7 #im jaebum smut #jaebum series #jaebum au #jaebum x reader #jaebum x you #got7 x reader #got7 x you #got7 series #im jaebum x reader #im jaebum fanfic #im jaebum fluff #im jaebum angst

[broken-chinadolly]

(SUMMER BISHIL, 29,SHE/HER), have you seen (PERSEPHONE PYRITE)? SHE is working as a (MEMBER OF THE DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES) who, rumour has it, are also (MEMBER OF THE ORDER) but don’t tell anyone. Some people say they can be (CREATIVE) and (QUICK-WITTED), but they can also be (BLUNT) and (SHORT TEMPERED) so watch out! ( beth, 26, she/her, est )

Persephone Pyrite is twenty-nine years old, works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Ministry of Magic and was formerly in the house of Gryffindor

                            ❝A strong woman looks a challenge dead in the eye and gives it a wink

↳ BACKSTORY

Persephone was given everything her heart desired when she was younger. Everything she asked for at least–for she found it more fun sometimes to fight for things rather than ask and have them handed–except for the racing dragon she would still be inclined to seek out, despite which Ministry department she now represents, next time she feels the itch that life has gotten too predictable and no fling, fight she could pick, or other thrill will do. Hector was her first demand at a few weeks shy of two years old when she’d been introduced to her new little brother and handed down the verdict, “Mine.” It was a decree she was  never able to take back, not that she often wanted to. While Hector saw himself as trailing after her, she saw herself pulling him along into whatever messes she made or adventures she had, because he was a part of her . The eldest sibling is typically a guide to the rest, but it was different with Hector than with any of her sisters that came after him or her “Irish twin” that had come before him. It didn’t mean she favored him. It was laughable for any Pyrite to favor one sibling over the others, like favoring your pinkie finger over your pointer. They were all one unit, all digits on a hand that could join together  into a fist to crush whoever was foolish enough to think they could take on one of them.

Family before all else, and, for Persephone at least, that also included any and all who came out of the woodwork claiming to be half-siblings and the various uncle and aunts that had never had an official place on the Pyrite tree, but were not fully denied either, that sometimes visited. The bond wasn’t quite the same if they weren’t raised Pyrite and didn’t understand what it meant to be so, but it was never in doubt that they were fully family. For one, blood doesn’t make family like love and loyalty does, and, for another, sometimes the line between bastard child and heir is thin and smudgy. After all, some say Persephone herself looks nothing like her father and everything like an old ambassador friend of her mother’s. Who cares? Her father was there when she was born and ever since even if he wasn’t there when she was conceived. 

Persephone had a difficult time at Hogwarts as all Pyrites did, finding herself serving a record number of detentions, not often understanding there was such a fuss over her going about life normally. Surely defending yourself wasn’t something to be punished for. If you didn’t have a scratch on you and the other party was in the hospital wing for a week with tentacles growing out of their ears and two black eyes, vomiting black goo that just meant you were a good duelist versed in both magic and muggle fighting and should be congratulated. So what if you were the first to throw a spell as well if you were also the last and the winner? And  students on Hogsmeade weekends weren’t told specifically that they couldn’t slide along apparate away with people they met in town so when you go missing on a Saturday night and are tracked down to a club in Brighton on a Sunday was it even your fault or was it the school administration’s fault? Similarly, why teach students about hippogriffs if breaking them out of their paddocks and giving them exercise is for some unfathomable reason off limits? There’s no sign saying not to skinny dip in the Black Lake, and if there were, there are better things to do in a day than read. If she’d wanted to read, she would have done her homework more often--study habits being another frequent source of detentions though more because of what happened to anyone who implied the reason she still got good grades despite seeming to put in little effort was cheating or at the very least collaborating with others.

Persephone's frequent rallying against rules and sometimes even laws got her the flippant response from many adults that when she was older she could get a position and change the rules, but until then she had to obey. It was said to shut up a precocious teenager who’d invented the sport of broom surfing, drank her defense against the dark arts professor’s secret stash of scotch and wrote the names of every prefect of both genders on her to-do list instead of her assignments, but Seph never liked being mocked, and desire to show up everyone and a love of irony joined with legitimate desire for political reform in her serious moments (anyone paying attention knew it wasn’t just in enforcing the wrong types control where the system was broken and Seph had always paid attention more than she was given credit for) to have her look for a Ministry position from any department that would hire her based on her NEWTs and passion and ignore the reputation and any negative recommendations .

The Pyrites never claimed to look or act like most traditional pureblood families but Seph carried the badge of going against the grain into other areas, proving to be quite vocal about rights of downtrodden or often neglected groups such as muggleborns or squibs. It didn’t make her popular with some factions but she would look you in the eye and say she never gave a fuck what anyone thought.  Her newest cause is an attempt to update the werewolf registry and write new legislation regarding werewolves, an even more unpopular area with opposition from all sides: those who sympathetic to werewolves who hear the word registry and think she’s a bigot; those who actually listen to her proposals for group and solo counseling and job placement for the newly turned (the real purpose of a registry) , permanent classification of weres into the being not beasts division of regulation, and for anti-discriminatory policies to be implemented in schools and work places and think she’s “soft on the mongrels;” and those who don’t care either way about werewolf rights but simply think she’s painfully naive to think her proposed werewolf laws will work any better  than the werewolf registry of the 1940s. 

Someone else with Persephone’s pet projects and outspoken opinions might have been found their life turned upside down by the war, becoming a target or victim. Persephone was neither, enough Pyrites in league with the death eaters to make sure there was always a higher priority, but she jumped in with both feet with a typical lack of subtlety or thought for her own future or welfare, not worried about covering her tracks as she went after anyone she suspected of taking the mark in the early days. She was used to problems she could solve on her own, or with logical, productive steps that led to actual progress (Yes, every death eater out of commission or every attack thwarted was progress but it didn’t feel like it, and her hammer against nails default tactics led to no valuable intel), or, failing that, ones that were easy to blast apart or brush off. Nothing was supposed beyond her or at least not beyond the family, and the family was more split than any of them were used to even though none admitted it. She wouldn’t call what she felt fear or helplessness. Neither were part of a Pyrite vocabulary and even less so hers. She’d only admit to blinding anger.  Ironically, it was being drawn into the Order that tamed her somewhat (and likely saved her from losing her job at the best and  being the one inevitably sent to Azkaban for vigilante action if she carried on escalating ) when it was making fighters out of so many others that weren’t born to that path. Given productive missions and legitimate targets she had a lens to focus her anger and help her regain the semblance of peace knowing she was making a difference. For awhile.

Still, it took very careful selection of mission partner to keep her from going too far that she wouldn’t either ignore or resent. Tension between her and the more cautious members of the Order has only grown as most grow tired of fighting, she’s fed on it.While she started for justice,  she she enjoys the outlet and permission to cause a little havoc and pain--only on those who deserve it of course--and doesn’t want to go back to being just her day job or even the hedonistic wild-card. 

So far, aside from the early crusading against shadows, the face Persephone shows outside of Order gatherings and business is much more neutral. Her views aren’t sugar coated but she gives off the impression that she is much more occupied with spoiling her niece, crusading for fair treatment of werewolves whether the weres agree or not, returning to old vices, discovering new vices to add in, and so on. She is known to pull string to keep her brother and sisters and their friends out of trouble and is even friendly with some of them herself, the closest to controlled she’s ever been.

↳ PERSONALITY TRAITS

» {+ positives} creative, intuitive, determined, quick-witted, nurturing

» {- negatives} stubborn, blunt, hot-tempered, violent

↳ BASICS

» blood status: pureblood

» magical aptitude: Strong innate talent + Studious

» date of birth: October 3rd

» wand: maple and phoenix feather, ten inches

» boggart: one of her siblings (it changes each time) has killed one of the others. Hector features the most often in both roles, not a sign of favoritism as much as her knowledge he’s likely to meet a bad end

#ni:intro

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives ‘A Guest for Mr Spider’ (S03E01) Analysis

After hyperventilating for a while, because IT’S HEEEERE, I got down to listening to the first episode of season 3, and … well, it wasn’t what I had expected, but it was an absolutely fascinating contextualization of a character we’ve known for a while, and also sets the scene for what we might expect going forward in season 3.  Come on in to hear what I thought about …

 The statement of Jonathan Sims, former Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a childhood encounter with a book once possessed by Jurgen Leitner.

Hooooo … this is going to be a pretty long post, because we have A LOT to get through.  This episode was exposition-rich without feeling like an info dump, which is a credit to Jonny Sims’ writing.  We got really surprising amounts of information about Sims as a character and about what brought him to the Institute.  But we also got some discussion of recent events as well, from a Sims who seems perhaps a week out from the events of the finale.  

First, we got confirmation for something I had suspected throughout season 2: a lot of Sims’ paranoia was induced by the Not-Them.  But then again, while Sims insists that it was all the Not-Them, I think it was more complicated than that.  I have a feeling that, given the very specific reactions that Sims was having compared to Tim or Martin, it was likely a combination of the Not-Them, the Beholding pricking at him and warning him that there was danger nearby, and his own natural paranoia being hugely exaggerated.  Because Sims has always been a little paranoid.  

He is, however, a lot more self-aware in this episode than he has been in quite some time.  He knows that, for the majority of the last season, he really wasn’t playing with a full deck.  I doubt he’s as recovered from the events of season 2 as he thinks.  While he does sound saner, he still frays and starts sounding a lot more broken again when he discusses the fact that his former colleagues now likely think him a psychopathic killer.  A lot is hitting Sims all at once at this point: the loss of his job, being on the run despite the lack of wide-scale manhunt (my guess is that the investigation into Leitner’s death is going to be a very secret thing, likely undertaken by Daisy alone), and having lost people he might not have even recognized as friends before he did indeed lose them.  Sasha is dead, and Martin and Tim both suspect him of murder.  As dismissive as he was of his assistants, I think he’s feeling their loss a lot more keenly than he thought he would.

But most of that remains subtext or only hinted at, because Sims might think he’s no longer the Archivist, but something is still driving him.  Something has made him find a new tape recorder, new tapes, and to start recording again in the exact same manner he did at the Institute.  One could say it was habit, but I think that the Beholding is still claiming him.  He is still the Archivist, and as such the compulsion to behold and to record is overwhelming to him.  The only way he can start to make sense of everything that happened to him and because of him in season 2 is to finally recount the story that started him down this path, that committed him to the study of the paranormal, and that even seems rooted in some of the stupider decisions he’s made in this podcast’s run.

One thing I noticed, even early on, was that Sims was ready to dismiss almost any statement—no matter how compelling—as insubstantiated nonsense.  And yet whenever Jurgen Leitner’s library came up, he took that statement, even flimsy and without any proof, as 100% fact.  Sims was a believer in Leitner’s library and its horrors, if nothing else at the beginning of this series.  And in this statement, we learn why.  Sims himself had an encounter with one of those books, and it changed him in a fundamental way, setting him on the path to become the Archivist.  For Sims, Leitner was the definition of all that was horrific, supernatural, and evil.  Sims readily admits that he was functioning in a very (understandably) self-centered manner at the beginning of his tenure as the Archivist.  He had experienced the horror of a Leitner book, and so that was real. His fear and his suffering were real, but everyone else was likely lying or hallucinating or drugged.  Sims is a deeply self-centered individual, not because he’s a narcissist, but because he has defined himself as something independent of … well, just about everything and everyone else for basically all of his life.

In addition to being a nicely creepy story, we finally get a lot more insight into what formed Jonathan Sims into the man he is today, and even in his childhood he seemed to be defined by two characteristics that seem to have spilled over into his adulthood: isolation, and a belief in his own intelligence that very frequently veers into arrogance.  We also know that Sims was “a child of the 90s”, so is likely in his early to mid-thirties (I think of children of the nineties as those who remember that period as their childhood, so were likely … five or six in 1990?  Making him 32 or 33ish?).  We also know he looks considerably older than his actual age, even to the point of already having graying hair.  We know that both of his parents are dead.  His father died when he was two of an accidental fall, and his mother died a few years later due to complications of a routine surgery.  As such, the only caretaker Sims really knew was a grandmother grieving her dead son, and who resented having to care for a rather difficult grandchild.  Sims’ sense of isolation clearly started early, as while he doesn’t seem to have any outright hostility toward his grandmother, there is a definite distance in the way he discusses her.  She tried her best, but they were clearly never particularly close, and Sims in turn never really developed any deep bonds in his childhood.  The entire statement is devoid of mentions of friends or profound connections.  Even the person who eventually saved him from the book wasn’t a friend, but instead a bully who used to torment Sims, and whose name Sims can’t remember.

This all fits so well with everything we’ve already learned about Sims.  Sims really doesn’t get the idea of family.  think Martin’s story didn’t resonate with him nearly so much as it might with others partially because of the Not-Them’s paranoia, but also partially because the idea of completely upending his life and lying about something fundamental like who and what he was for someone he loved was something that Sims didn’t quite comprehend.  Sims has always functioned for himself first and foremost.  Putting others before his own self-interest is something he is clearly working to be better at.  Indeed, he does have moments of great selflessness, like when he tried to protect his assistants by sending them home in ‘The Librarian’.  But while Martin is naturally caring, and puts others before himself even to a fault, such actions are not natural to Sims.  

Instead of friends, Sims has always preferred books.  But even in that, Sims was difficult to please.  He apparently disliked reading anything that seemed familiar, meaning he would only ever read any given author once, and any given subject once.  His grandmother took to buying every second-hand book she could find that was 50p or less, and just presenting him with piles of books to sort through and choose ones he actually found interesting.  

And second-hand books, of course, lead us straight to the library of Jurgen Leitner.

The description of ‘A Guest for Mr Spider’ is somehow even more chilling than most of the other Leitner books, because it’s a picture book.  The implication there seems to be that it specifically targets children. The strange, horrid, twitchy illustrations depict a series of flies in various costumes coming to visit Mr Spider, only to vanish as more and more of Mr Spider’s home is covered in brown ink and Mr Spider becomes more bloated.  The final consumption of Mr Horse and his son sets clear the context that the book wants children.  It will take older people, and indeed it does end up taking the 19-year-old bully who snatched the book from Sims before he could finish it, but this was a book meant to be found and read by a child.  A child who, like Sims, recognized the book instantly as something wrong and horrific, and yet who was powerless to stop reading.  Who would be drawn through the streets to a house that wouldn’t be found later.  A house full of darkness and webs, and long spider legs.  It puts one in mind of Raymond Fielding.  I wonder if, when reading the statements regarding the house on Hill Top Road, Sims saw reflected in those experiences that house from his own childhood.  Did he read Ronald Sinclair’s statement about Fielding, about the children bound in webs in his basement, and think of himself and that nameless bully?  Or did he ever think to tie those spiders together with Mr Spider?

I wonder if he might not have done.  Rather than focusing on the house and the spiders, Sims seems to have focused all his fear and his anger at Jurgen Leitner.  He would dismiss the statements about spiders readily enough at the beginning, but never a statement about Leitner.  In Sims’ mind, the supernatural was rare, with the majority of the statements he read—even those on tape—made up of hoaxes.  But Leitner was evil personified, and had tapped into some primal power that he wielded to harm 8-year-old Jonathan Sims and reshape his entire perception of how the world worked.

It shines a whole different light on how profound actually meeting Leitner must have been for Sims. Leitner wasn’t some great villain or all-powerful master of the things in his books.  He was a stupid, arrogant man who thought he could control and define things without control or definition.  He was, as Sims says in this episode, a spoiled child.  He looked at the nightmares in this world and thought he had the ability to confront them and contain them purely because he was interested and had a big enough ego to think he could.  He decided to create a way to hold the supernatural to his own whims, much as Robert Smirke had done with his architecture.  But whatever power Smirke wielded that made him so lastingly effective, Leitner lacked.  He contained the books only for a brief time, and then they all found their way back into the wild, potentially more readily available than they had been before. Even his and Gertrude’s scheme to destroy the Institute could well have been similarly short-sighted, and just another effort to exert control from a man who was ultimately just as powerless as anyone else.

This man, who Sims had so feared and hated, is remarkably similar to Sims.  They both believe that if they confront the horrors of this world, they will somehow have the ability to resist and defeat them.  They are both isolated, both believe themselves more intelligent than they actually are, and are both supremely arrogant.  Leitner isn’t a monster.  He’s a cautionary tale.

And now Sims lacks that driving fear of Leitner.  He lacks a job, and he’s realizing that everything he set out to do in season 1 and even his desire from childhood to protect people from the darkness has roundly and repeatedly failed.  He wanted to organize the archive and failed.  He wanted to disprove the majority of the supernatural statements that weren’t directly related to his own trauma, and he failed.  He wanted to keep his assistants as far from harm as possible, and he failed.  And now he’s on the run.  He’s out in the wild without direction or any real idea of what he needs to do.  

So he falls back on compulsion.  He records his own statement, lacking anyone else’s.  He hides and he looks at the shattered remains of his life.  Something is going to happen, I’m certain, to roust him from this hiding space, and to plunge him into the wider world of the supernatural.  Having him out of the Institute may well be exactly the boost to his skill and his understanding that Elias thinks it will be.  He will see the powers of his world in a much more direct fashion.  He may well be able to get statements from faction members who would never set foot inside the Institute.  And he will likely be in terrible danger from all of them. We still don’t know what it means to be the Archivist, but we know that whatever it is, members of other factions want the Archivist.  They want to use him, or tell him things, or get information from him, or kill him. But Sims’ position makes him marked, not only by the Beholding, but every supernatural entity out there.  And this season, I think we’ll learn a lot more about what that really means.

This was quite the episode for big reveals regarding the backstory of Jonathan Sims, and what makes him the man he is today.  So much of it jives perfectly with the man we’ve gotten to know.  He’s protective of others, but in an abstract way that speaks more to a belief that this is the way he ought to be than a sense of genuine connection with others.  And yet he believes enough in this abstract sense of right and wrong that he is willing to put himself in danger to protect innocents.  It was why he tried to deck Michael when he realized a woman had been snatched right under his nose.  Looking back, that experience must have been even more traumatic for him than it had seemed at the time, given how closely it resembled what happened when he was a child. There was someone else walking through a door, never to be seen again, while Jonathan Sims stood by helpless to stop it.  So many of the previous statements have new resonance now that we know how closely Sims’ own experience mirrored them.

His early isolation, as well as seeing someone snatched up by Mr Spider, goes a long way to explaining why he wouldn’t reach out to Martin or Tim throughout season 2, even when he knew he should.  It explains why he’s been so hesitant to foster anything but the most professional relationships with them, despite Martin’s best efforts.  He’s never learned how to connect with anyone on a deep and meaningful level, and he’s only now realizing how detrimental that can be.

More than that, there is a guilt in Sims, unacknowledged and perhaps unconscious, that this bully he can barely even remember died and thereby saved him.  Imagine the guilt that rears up when Leitner revealed that Gertrude had three assistants, and they all died.  Imagine his guilt when he realizes that Sasha is dead and he never even noticed because of the Not-Them.  Imagine his guilt when he realizes that Tim and Martin are unable to quit, and are therefore meant to die for him as well.  These people he could almost call his friends, and some great and unknown power will kill them just because that’s what the assistants of an Archivist do.  There may well be some unconscious belief that if he just pushes them away, if he keeps them as far from him as possible, and if he stays away from the Institute, he can save them.  I doubt that’s the way it works.  I think that something will draw Sims and Martin and Tim back together, but I think that Sims is always going to be operating with that low-level terror that more people, people he cares about this time, people with names and faces he will remember, are going to end up dying because of him again.  Sims has massive amounts of survivor’s guilt, I think, and he doesn’t even realize it.

Conclusions

Starting the season out with a deep-dive character study wasn’t what I expected, but I really liked it. We now have a good idea of what’s going on with Sims right now, and have a better understanding of his head-space. He’s staying with Georgie, the hostess of the ‘What the Ghost’ podcast, and someone Melanie once mentioned actually spoke pretty well of Sims.  It’s still not clear if Sims and Georgie were once romantically involved, but he’s now staying in her guest room and cat-sitting for her.  Their conversations are awkward, like two people who haven’t interacted in years and are suddenly together and realizing how little they have in common.  

I’m interested what they’ll do with Georgie.  I’m honestly hoping she’s not another outsider character, as we already have that in Basira Hussain.  It would be more interesting if she was already an insider, perhaps a member of the Open Eye or working with Trevor the Vampire Slayer or something.  She’s said she’ll believe anything.  What if that’s because she’s already seen so much and has way more contacts in that world than Sims?  What if she’s not just a random character, but the gate through which he’ll be thrown head-first into the wider world of the supernatural in TMA?  That would be a fun twist.

I’m also hoping that, now that we’ve established Sims, we get to see what’s happening at the Institute. What is Elias doing to clean up after season 2?  Was that Daisy on the teaser trailer?  Is she hunting Sims?  If she is, does she intend to deal with him the same way she deals with other supernatural threats?  Is Martin the Interim Head Archivist?  Is Tim still there?  What is their relationship like now?  There are so many questions.  We’ve gotten a surprising number of answers about Sims, so I’m hopeful we’ll start to get a few about our other favorite characters as well starting next week.

#The Magnus Archives #analysis #A Guest for Mr Spider #TMA season 3 #it's goooooood!!!! #seriously #go listen to it before you read this analysis #because this is spoiler-filled flailing at its finest #go and listen #then come back #it's a meta party! #and it doesn't st

[ts-2020-olympics]

Episode 11 - “I’m Winning This Hoe” - Karen (MERGE)

I’m really fucking mad at Nicole, first she fucked us over in the music challenge. And then she stole my vote? Bitch better be ready to go home

Low-key, I don't really care if I win anymore but I'm rooting for Stoner or Jordan 🤙 The old opposing team trying to be all sneaky and send all the good mornings to keep tabs on me is really annoying. Like, I get that it's more a social contest the later in the game but, eh. Shoo shoo. 

Hello, welcome to my moral dilemma. I’ve been kind of quiet in these confessionals because in short everyone hates me, but here’s the situation now. I think they’re going to vote me out, but I have something up my sleeve. *Pulls my tribal skip out of my sleeve for dramatic affect* If this was real survivor Jeff Probst would make them roll back the tape because I forgot to tell you I found this. Anyway. So I found this little tribal skip, BUT I’m really worried about using it. I have a lot of moral issues right now and I don’t know what to do. Jacob is safe, so that’s good. But, there’s bigger problems at large. If I use it, and nobody was voting me, I essentially waste it. But if they are voting me, I waste it AND die. I can play it for three more rounds and what if I need it in the upcoming ones? It’s also the fact that if I jump out of tribal, Kevin would probably go. I’m just nervous. I hope he has something he can use and they get Tommy or Sammy instead. I’m just really nervous. Jordan told me he wants to vote Kevin and I don’t know if I tell him or not. This is a LOT on my mind. Either way I want to use the tribal skip but, I’m nervous I’ll be leaving my allies without a vote and that could change everything. They might also be resentful next round. I’m just....SO STUCK. But I’ll be back with more info later, toodles.

Super excited to be back with Jordan, he’s my main bish and I missed him. After last tribal I’m having a rough time trusting literally anyone because everyone on my old tribe lied to my face 

For starters, Pete got voted out the past round, feel a little bad, because I know he was really dedicated towards this game.  However, just didn't have trust with him, and wanted to keep in my ally of Tommy a little bit longer, because I find Tommy is a good shield for me to try hiding behind for this merge.  Now, Jacob won Immunity, which is fine, I didn't want Jacob going anywhere yet anyways, then Caeleb is also immune due to the gold medal, again it's fine, as Caeleb wouldn't have been my pick of who to go either.  Anyways, it's merge now, so I know I got to step up my game a bit, however, I think it's more ideal to try staying under the radar the first couple rounds of merge, just to kind of find a good footing with people, as don't want to start making moves too early, as that could cost me in the future.  I need to keep as much trust with people as I can, and that's what I intend to do until the time is right to betray the trust.   Lastly, Eve and I talked about how us newbies are all basically getting picked off 1 by 1, so we think it's ideal that us 4 remaining newbies, (Myself, Eve, Sarah & Emma,) all try to stick together to get out some of these returnees, because if another newbie goes out this round, that makes it harder for the remaining newbies.   As well, we still have all 5 past winners in this game, and I'm pretty sure nobody wants to go to the end with past winners, except for maybe the other past winners.  For now though, just going with the flow, and going to make my strike when I feel the time is right.

The hunger games are really getting crazy in here

HELLO MERGE! Ugh I’m shook I made it this far but not really bc I’m winning this hoe. So ummmm last round em was coming for my wig but I said no! And now Pete is gone lol. Now this first tribal after merge....its gonna be messy or at least the lead up maybe if people stare scrambling. So I have myself in a tricky spot.... i have me, nicole and Kevin in one three person alliance, me, tommy and Darcy in another three person alliance, I have stoner who wants to work with me as well as Sammy and jp so like ajdjdjdndjdjdj gtg if people find out that I’m gonna be close with this many people. It also means that I’m gonna start betraying them soon bc that only leaves I think 3 people on the outskirts (Jacob, em and eve). I think I want to vote Jacob soon bc he seems close with nicole and kev and I don’t want that to be detrimental to my game. I’m gonna try to think too far ahead in this game though because i have so many options and that’ll stress me out and make me potentially make a bad decision. As of right now, not many names have been said for a vote, Darcy was thrown out by someone, same with stoner’s name which obviously I would want neither to be voted out, also Kevin’s name was dropped too rip. Everyone seems hesitant to say a name which is like worrying bc now I’m prob gonna be the one saying a name. Right now it may be between eve and em, however I’d lean more towards em only bc she targeted me previously and well, eve and I have a Canadian connection that I think I can build off of. So, I’m telling the two three-person alliances to vote em, and then I have jp telling stoner about the vote and Sammy and caeleb I can probably convince (I totally forgot about caeleb lmao I think we’re good, we do have a connection, however I don’t trust him going further into the game). Anyway, the only issue I have and what I’m scared about is that, of the people who wanted to work with me but haven’t gotten the opportunity to (jp, Sammy, stoner) I don’t know what kinds of allegiances they have to other people so I’m afraid if I say a name they will tell that person and then that person either goes after me or they play some sort of advantage and my plan backfires. I’m too nervous for someone who has so many close ties lol this isn’t fun.

What a crazy vote, if all goes well ill not only still be in the game, but just have been proven that my reach of control is exactly as wide as I need it to be. I think my strategy is to have my hands in as many cookies jars as possible without taking a cookie. I have Stoner and sarah my tight 3. A connection with Eve. An alliance with sammy and Caeleb. A deal with Emma. A pack to work with nicole to keep us threats in the game longer, as well as the first deal im breaking tonihgt which is karen and tommy. Karen threw my name out allegedly this morning to nicole, whether it was halfheartedly or not, it shows they are willing to throw me under the bus and im willing to throw them under it first. How the fallout will go i dont know but I am shook

I made Merge and I survived despite my name getting thrown out last round, and already have 1 bitter juror against me. I'm gonna try to play a more passive game strategically so I don't get targeted as a "threat". Rn my main focus is Darcy and myself, Kevin and myself, Karen and myself, and that's about it everyone else I'm still building relationships with. I'd prefer if we get out someone who was on the 2nd Swap Miraitowa first so that way we have majority until at least Final 10 which would be good. Im just hoping I don't head home. Also I threw immunity cause I didn't wanna be precieved as a challenge threat. 

This round I’m really putting most of my trust in caeleb and Jordan’s hands. I’m relying on Kevin for information from the other side. I see several trios which makes me nervous. For example, Jordan/Sarah/Stoner Darcy/Tommy/Karen Nicole/Jacob/Kevin so i think I need to make a group with Emma/Caeleb/Eve. I will admit I made the plan of making Nicole and Kevin paranoid but telling kevin that his name was going around to make Nicole think it was just a side name to make her think she was going home. So it would make them two paranoid in case an idol was in play. But in reality we would just blindside karen. The plan ended up becoming common knowledge unfortunately so I had to backtrack. I hope karen goes but at this point i have no idea. I am also in a rush but i had good convo with Kevin today and i trust him more.

I have a bad feeling, if this is the end of the road and I end up not using this tribal skip I think I’ll be okay with that. If I use it, everyone is going to be angered with me and my trust will be broken with nearly everyone. It’s a cowardly move and I rather go out taking the risk than ducking from the first merge tribal. I really hope I don’t go because 13th kind of sucks BUT it’s a hell of a lot better than having everyone distrust and hate me going forward. I just want to keep playing 🥺 fuck this is scary.

#zestypowerfuluniqueflavorfulhealthy #confessionals

[trhu]

Hu I am

By Teri Roah Hu It’s funny to think that the name by which most people know me, the name I think of as my identity, is not the name I was born with, nor the name my parents chose for me. It is a uniquely American concoction, if the internet is to be believed. No one else shows up in a Google search of my name. Other than links about me, the main things that show up when you google “Teri Hu” are a ridiculous lot of Hindi love songs. Apparently, “teri hu” means “I’m yours” in informal Hindi. There is another “Teri Hu” on Facebook, who coincidentally lives in Taipei, where I was born. But obviously, “Teri” is not her legal name there, it’s just an English name that she uses on social media. It’s weird to think I might be the only person on the planet with this name, officially. Of course, back in 1970 when I was born in Taiwan, my parents did not give me an English name either. At birth, I was named 胡柔柔, or Hu Rou-rou, because in Chinese, surnames come first. The meaning of Hu is complicated. Except as a last name, it is never used as a stand-alone word, so far as I know, but only as part of a phrase that can mean a lot of unrelated things: hutong (胡同)=alley, huzi (胡子)=beard, hutu (胡涂)=confused. There seems to be no relationship between these words and the use of “hu” in them. Hu is the 13th most common surname in China, but in 43 years, I’ve never known another Hu in the United States that I wasn’t related to. That tells you a lot about how becoming an American has fundamentally changed everything in my life. Would I have been such a misfit if I’d stayed in Taiwan? Am I intrinsically weird, or just weird compared to theoretically “normal” white Americans? I’ll probably never know, because now, when I travel back to Asia, I’m the weirdo that looks Chinese, but is American on the inside. Misfit on two continents, that’s me. My mother chose my Chinese name, Rou-rou (柔柔), long before I was born. Ever since she was a teenager, she had visions of a daughter who was soft, tender, and delicate...a princess of her very own. So she latched onto “rou” and doubled it for emphasis. Needless to say, she did not get the daughter she hoped for. Instead of the Sansa she had always dreamed of, she got an Arya. Rou-rou wasn’t even supposed to be my legal name, just a pet name. My mother assumed my father would come up with a more official sounding legal name based on his family’s generational poem, per Chinese tradition. Had he done that, my name would’ve likely been “Hu Sirou” (胡斯柔) which at least sounds like a grown-up instead of a toddler. But daddy--being somewhat literal-minded and not caring too much about tradition in the first place--just put her pet name down on the family register when I was born, and there I was, saddled with a ridiculously squishy baby name that would never fit my skeptical, hard-nosed temperament. This miscommunication about what to name their firstborn child was a harbinger of my parents’ impending divorce. The two of them never really learned how to talk to each other, and the pained, awkward silences of my childhood taught me how important it was for a family to be able to say anything to each other, even if it meant fighting it out instead of keeping the peace. Peace and quiet is worth nothing if everyone is seething with unspoken resentments inside. The miscommunication only got worse when we came to the United States in 1975, and the English name they gave me then is a perfect example of how unprepared either of them were for American life. Mother asked daddy to find an English name that meant the same thing as “rou,” so he looked up “tender” in the dictionary, and found it was based on the Greek word, “teren” or “τέρην.” Without any real understanding of English names--even though they picked perfectly normal names for themselves, “Fred” and “Tina”--they settled on “Teren” for me, with no idea of the hell they were about to unleash on a five year old. So, “Teren Rou-rou Hu” was the name on the roster when I started kindergarten two months after arriving in this country, which probably confused the heck out of my teacher. She was a very old white lady, called Mrs. House, and I think it was actually her last year teaching. It was also a very white school, and I was the only Asian kid, so there was literally no one on campus who could speak to me for the first few weeks, before I started to pick up English. In that horrific time, before I could really talk back, I was targeted for being different in incomprehensible ways. Even though at first, I literally could not understand what people were saying to me, I knew they were being cruel; that I was being singled out and tormented, and it infected my first few months in America with a fear and anger that has essentially never gone away, even as I got better at standing up for myself and fighting back. That’s the nature of trauma. What I remember: *Random boys I didn’t know following me home from school yelling “flatface” and “flatnose” while throwing the occasional dirt clod at me. *Random boys from my class running up to me making rowing motions with their arms while singing “Row, row, row your boat.” *Being asked if I was a boy, because “Teren” sounds like a boy’s name. Sometimes, even adults would ask this. I was a tomboy, but I had long hair and wore dresses, so I don’t really understand WHY there would have been any confusion about my gender. I was visibly female, no matter what my stupid name was. *All sorts of kids chanting “Chinese, Japanese, Dirty Knees, Look at these!” at me on the playground, pulling the fronts of their shirts out as if they had boobs. *Kids coming up and saying, “Knock-knock.” And when I would say, “Who’s there?” They’d just run away laughing. As you can see, a lot of the bullying involved my odd, foreign name, and I grew to hate it with a passion. But I never thought about changing it, somehow, until sixth grade, after we had moved from Fremont to San Francisco. It was just a burden I thought I would have to carry for the rest of my life. Middle school is a different type of hell, but at least in San Francisco, no one paid any attention to my name. That’s the nice thing about a city full of oddball weirdos, you learn to live and let live. When we were twelve, all my friends decided that we would pick cooler names that made us seem older. Ingrid became Ziggy, Laura became Ally Cat, Stepheny became Kaya, and I became Jackie...for Jack Daniels, which was considered cool back then, even though we didn’t actually drink it. Nasty stuff. Clearly, Jackie didn’t stick. I think we used these silly nicknames for maybe six months before it got too confusing to remember and most of us went back to the names our parents gave us. Except Ziggy. She stayed Ziggy well into her twenties, but last I heard, is back to being Ingrid and lives in Vermont. But adopting a different name, even briefly, made me realize that I had options. Something completely different from “Teren” might be hard to sell, but why not something closer? And the obvious choice was “Teri.” It stuck. Normally, Teri is a nickname for Teresa, which means “reaper” or “harvester,” but I don’t think that really applies in my case. People occasionally assume my full legal name is Teresa, but it’s been less of an issue than you’d think. I’ve been Teri, now, for 36 years, and it fits. It’s a comfortable name that no one has ever been able to twist into something hurtful. The worst I’ve heard was “Scary Teri,” but honestly, I’m fine with being a little scary. Scary is better than soft, right? There was still the problem of my stupid middle name, though. Rou-rou just sounds awful in any language. It took a few more years to figure that one out. At the end of senior year in high school, a few weeks before graduation, we had to submit our full, legal names to be printed on our diplomas. My high school diploma meant a lot to me, since I had to really struggle to earn it, having failed four classes in my sophomore year, which cost me three semesters of night classes and summer school to make up. I hated the idea of seeing my awful Chinese name printed on something I’d worked so hard for. A friend of mine also had a Chinese middle name, which should be spelled “De-Fen.” I’d only heard it, never seen it, so I just assumed she spelled it the “normal” way, according to the rules of pinyin. But when I saw it printed on one of her graduation announcements, I was shocked. She’d spelled it “Derphine,” which looked SO MUCH BETTER!! I thought, I didn’t know you could do that! And Rou-rou became Roah, which means nothing. (Well, technically, there is an acronym, ROAH, which means “Restraining Order After Hearing,” but that doesn’t affect me at all.) It was so easy, once I realized that I didn’t have to follow the rules of romanization or anything else, to create an identity that actually suits me. And that is how I wound up with a name that I chose for myself as a child, that no one else in this whole world has. Teri Roah Hu, is, so far as I know, a singularly unique name in the universe. And I’m perfectly happy with it.