#but I like to think that I can be rational enough to distinguish between the two | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

persage · 2 years

Text

CAN YOU STAY WITH ME TONIGHT?- S. HARRINGTON

Summary: It's a rainy night when Steve Harrington knocks on your door for help. This time, however, it has nothing to do with the upside down and its monsters but that doesn't make things any easier.

Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Words Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None, just Steve's shitty parents, some angst with comfort and the breakdown our boy deserves. Hopper!Reader. Let's pretend Hopper never "dies" at the end of season 3. (set between s3/4)

He can see it in the distance, warm and familiar. At every step the Hopper house is closer and you with it. In the dark of the night Steve Harrington needs you like never before. The rain beats quickly against his jacket as he runs fast, regretting not having taken the car and having decided to run away on foot, like an unconscious stupid child. If he lived in a normal city, he might be afraid of catching a cold or a fever at most, but he lives in Hawkins since and November 6th 1983, the day Will Byers disappeared, he has much more to fear. He knows that rationally nothing has happened for months, that you are theoretically safe, that you have overcome the Russians and the Mind Flayer, but every time something terrible has been thrown at you it has been when you felt the safest. He trembles. He should have at least taken the bat, which he keeps under the bed, but he ran away from that hell of the house without thinking and immediately found himself running to you, like an unstoppable impulse.

To say you've had a hell of a night would be an understatement. His tear soaked face is red and puffed, his hair disheveled and even if he's been running he's cold, lips chapped and he just wanna stop moving and sleep. It seems like an eternity goes by before reaching the familiar doorstep. Though the hour, he knocks at the door and it doesn't even occur to him that the Chief Hopper can open it in your place. Also he is ashemed of being seen this way by you, but by your dad ... It would much more embarrassing.

Luckily what he sees after a few minutes and a few reminders is your sleepy and confused face.

"Steve? What's wrong?" You ask as you open the door. You haven't looked at him well yet, not enough to realize he just cried, you rub your eyes to wipe out sleep, your hair is unkempt, the pajama you are wearing is turned upside down and you seem to have the pillow still glued to your face . Guilt grips Steve's heart.

I shouldn't have come. He thinks. He needs to go away, is nothing important.

Sorry y/n, it is nothing, I'm going home. But what comes out of his lips is something else. "Can I stay here, tonight?" He asks, his voice trembling. Idiot Steve.

Your brows knit together with concern as you let the door open fully. "Of course. My dad is working late so it's just us. What happened?" You look him up and down, resting yout hand on his chest once the door is shut. You finally notice his eyes swollen with tears, despite the rain you can clearly distinguish his tears. Something between his chest and stomach tightens. A lump rises in your throat.

You never saw Steve cry, not when Billy beat him, not when Nancy left him, not when he was tortured by the Russians. Something very serious must have happened and you are afraid to know it, because the person in front of you, even if he does not know it, is the human you care about most in the world. The same one you were willing to die for so many times. When you stood between him and Billy, when you stood by his side in the tunnels, when you offered to take his place during the you never managed to stop him from hurting himself.

And now, again, something has already happened to him and you are here, helpless. You can only listen to him.

"I.. I shouldn't... I didn't know and... I just. It's raining." He avoids eye contact as his voice shakes as well as his hands. You grab them, squeezing them with both of yours. They are cold and wet. "You're all wet Stevie, you're gonna catch a cold." You say in the sweetest tone. He lets out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have come".

"No, no don't say that. We're gonna get you into some dry clothes and get that cut cleaned up, alright?" You rub your thumb over his cheek, pulling it away to show the trail of crimson liquid. Steve haven't even noticed he was hurt, he is just so used to it.

Even if you are shorter then him, you awkwardly try to put an arm around his shoulders to warm him. Steve lets out a little laugh and you let an arm slide along his side and bring him closer to you as if you need him to have both hands on him in fear that if you let go, he'll fall completely apart.

You walk him to your room signing him to be quiet for El who is sleeping in the near room. You pick out a red sweatshirt that he lent you once and you never gave him back and some unlikely basketball shorts that must have belonged to your dad when he was young and they certainly won't fit him well but as they are but it's your best option. Steve doesn't know how to describe the feeling while he hold the clothes in his arms waiting for you to leave him, it is just that they make him feel safe. They have your scent.

"You change and I'll get some stuff to clean the cut, yeah?" You say, gently caressing his face and regretting it a second later. Sometimes your releshionship confuses you: he's not your boyfriend, not even near to be, but you are way more tan friends. And he ran to you. In the moment of need he ran to you, it must mean something. But on the other hand then there's Robin ans this symbiotic relationship that she and Steve share that you don't understand and it scares you, also because she's awesome in so many ways and you really really like her. You don't wanna be jealous, you just can't help it.

Steve nods and watches you leave hesitantly. He knows he must have scared you, showing up out of nowhere, late at night, and he knows you must have understood something is very wrong. Steve feels weak near you, like he doesn't need to hide his fears anymore, like he can finally break down and that's what worries him the most. He doesn't want to be a burden and he doesn't want you to change your mind about him. When you return Steve is sitting shyly on your bed, twiddling with his fingers.

"Alright, here we go." You state, walking back into the room with hands full of band-aids, gauze, hydrogen peroxide

"What happened Stevie?" You ask sitting beside him, so close you can feel his still cold skin against yours.

He takes a deep breath and remains silent.

"I am ready to challenge my father's wrath and let you stay tonight and you know he will kill me for it but you must confide in me, please. You can trust me." You continue while with dedication you cleanse his cheek of stale blood.

"I hit a mirror. And I broke it." He explains in a low voice, finally finding the courage to look into your eyes.

"Yeah" You hold stare back at him, his eyes full of shame, fear, a broken heart. "And how did you hit a mirror with your pretty face Steve? "

He clears his throat to stop the trembling of his voice. "I had a fight with my father"

When will you grow up?

When will you work for real?

You make me regret having you, stupid boy.

You're useless

You're a shame for the Harrington name.

" He ... He found out that I'm not going to leave Family Video soon and ... He freaked out. You know my, my cousin Trent has just graduated he'll have to take care of the family business and I... I'm just too stupid for this shit."

"What did he do to you?" You struggle to control the anger in your voice and squeeze the gauze too tightly. This time it's Steve grabbing yours hands to calm you down.

"He didn't do anything to me. He didn't beat me Y/N if that's what you are thinking, he never did and he never would"

"But you hit a mirror" Your voice holds pieces of breaking heart and anger.

"He pushed me, I slipped. I swear to you"

"It's not that better anyway. He pushed you, he makes you feel stupid, he... Doesn't even try to understand you Steve. This is not fair, you deserve better" Your voice goes up an octave, you just want to scream at Steve's parents, to make them see how wonderful thier son is. You always knew that his family never protected, loved or valued Steve as he deserves but seeing him in this state annihilates you.

" You're the only one who thinks that y/N. Sometimes I've got the feeling that you don't actually see me for who I am" Steve chuckles, but behind that sound there is nothing happy, just a lot of loneliness. "Steve we all believe you deserve the world. Robin, Dustin, the kids. Me. I've seen you fight monsters, Russians, I've seen you save everyone. I know you, I've seen you take care of Dustin and the others and be the most generous and courageous person in the world. You don't want to run a company, and that's okay so it doesn't make you any less important, less strong or valuable. Please, please believe me "

"I can't" He murmors voice breaking. He brings his hands to his face to calm down. He feels like crying.

"I can't y/n" You hang your head slightly with disappointment, while caressing his soft hair.

"He kicked me out of the house." He adds, whispering.

His chin wrinkles, his eyes burn ready for tears to start streaming as your heart falls with his.

His pain is yours.

You no longer care about keeping appearances and distances. You throw yourself on Steve stepping him in the tightest of hugs, tying your arms around his neck and resting your head on his, kissing his hair while Steve Harrington lets himself go against your chest, collapsing into a cry that has been held back for years. He cries for Barb, for Nancy, for himself and the little boy he was. He cries for the blows he took, for the mistakes he made, for Jonathan with whom he was an asshole, for the mistakes he has not forgiven himself. For high school Robin. For the Russians, for Billy and Max, poor little Max. He cries because the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he is not even able to be a worthy son, to be strong and now he throws it all on you. He cries for you, because he knows that now he can do nothing to keep you away from him, to give you better. You love him, otherwise you would have already kicked him out, you would see his flaws. Like his father you would find him useless.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispers against your body, sobbing his heart out.

"No, no, no don't be. Ever.

We'll find a solution I swear my Dad will help us"

"I don't want ... I don't want Chief Hopper to get in the way ... I don't want ..."

"Steve my father adores you and is grateful to you and will be happy to help you. You have saved my life a thousand times. You save me every day to be fair"

You move away wiping his tears with your thumb, looking at him with admiration, as if he were the most precious thing on earth. Steve lets himself be lulled into this unknown sensation. "We will talk about it tomorrow with my father and we will solve everything"

"Yeah." He agrees softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you y/n. Thank you"

"Don't ." Your voice is soft but scratchy. "Don't ever thank me for this Harrington. This is what we do. We're there for each other, no matter what."

He nods once as you hold his head in your hands

"And listen to me, please. You are worth, you are precious and you deserve the world"

"It's you, you are precious" he leans to you, his forehead now touching yours.

Your voice shakes "You are loved" You murmor as you help him lay down on your bed, arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. "Now sleep, you need it Stevie boy"

"If your father finds us like this he'll kills us"

"Oh Harrington I'd be ready to die for a night with you"

You answer ironically. Or maybe not.

"I left him a note on the door. He'll know you're here and you need us." You continue.

"y/n"

"Yes Steve"

"You are loved too."

He smiles while closing his eyes, letting himself go to the peace you give him. He loves you, he really does.

You make him feel better even if he still has a dad outside who hates him and a mother who can't stand up for him and even if his problems are not gonna disappear this night, for a few hours with your breath against his skin and your hands on him the seem to weight less on his shoulders and he he feels a little less useless and unworthy. You're his saving grace and the light of his life and maybe one day he will be able to tell properly.

1K notes · View notes

ellenembee · 2 years

Text

I agree with all the posts out there talking about the Persuasion "adaptation's" character assassination. From what we can see (though I fully admit trailers aren't always true to the movie), Anne is not the calm, reserved, rational, reliable, sensible, and above all self possessed woman of the books, but rather some kind of modern construct built from Austen's more popular women like Lizzie and Emma. (In reality, Anne, Elinor, and Fanny Price would be on a blanket sipping tea while Lizzie, Emma, Catherine, and Marianne were off vexing men and making trouble.)

One thing I haven't seen mentioned, though, is that from the context of the times, Anne was not just being swayed because she valued her family's continued support and Lady Russell's opinion, but because Lady Russell's concerns were real and frightening. Marrying Wentworth *before* he made his fortune was an *incredible* risk to her safety and wellbeing. Throughout the book, we see countless manifestations of "what if" scenarios:

Mr. Elliott as an example of how she likely would've been disowned by her family if she'd married Frederick anyway

Anne's old school friend Mrs. Smith as an example of her life if she'd married anyway, been disowned, and Frederick had died or become injured enough to not be able to properly support her

Benwick and Fanny Harville as an example of what might have happened if she'd kept the engagement but agreed not to marry him until he'd made enough to support them

Her sister Mary's comfortable life as an example of what she might have had if she'd said yes to Charles Musgrove.

Louisa Musgrove as an example of how Anne might have acted if she'd been less risk averse and less prudent in her youth.

You can argue the validity of Anne's situation compared to these manifestations (likely Lady Russell would have risked angering Sir Elliott and taken Anne in with the idea of an eventual reconciliation), but there are countless other examples throughout the book. They are meant to reinforce the point that Anne is reconciled to her own actions, much as she might regret them.

This is not a book where Anne blames herself or her family. She did the "right" thing by breaking it off with Frederick. She just now wishes with her whole being that she hadn't done the "right" thing.

"... but Anne, at seven-and-twenty, thought very differently from what she had been made to think at nineteen. She did not blame Lady Russell, she did not blame herself for having been guided by her ... She was persuaded that under every disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every anxiety attending his profession, all their probable fears, delays, and disappointments, she should yet have been a happier woman in maintaining the engagement than she had been in the sacrifice of it."

And later, to Frederick:

"If I was wrong in yielding to persuasion once, remember that it was to persuasion exerted on the side of safety, not of risk."

In hindsight, she sees all the risks and all the examples of her possible life choices, and thinks now it would have been worth the pain and risk. To be disappointed by fate would have been far better than the constant estrangement from the man she has loved for eight years.

Anne sees all the possibilities of how her life might have played out in the people around her, and she accepts it.

And the best part is that Frederick acknowledges that Anne was right to be cautious.

"He had imagined himself indifferent, when he had only been angry, and he had been unjust to her merits, because he had been a sufferer from them ... He had learnt to distinguish between the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will, between the darings of heedlessness and the resolution of a collected mind ...

Fredrick knew he'd been resentful and proud. And he owns up to his mistake of thinking ill of her for so long. He admits he was his own worst enemy when it came to his happiness with Anne. And Anne reinforces this with her words to him near the end:

I have been thinking over the past ... and I must believe that I was right, much as I suffered from it, that I was perfectly right in being guided by [Lady Russell] ... Do not mistake me, however. I am not saying that she did not err in her advice. It was, perhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the event decides ...

Anne is calm. She follows her conscience. She is sensible and, yes, resolute when she needs to be. She's amazing as she is and doesn't need to be made into something she's not.

She is appealing because of who she is, and it's also why she's my favorite Austen woman. To divorce Anne of these things is to create a new character and inherently alter the story.

So call it something else. Say it's "inspired by" Persuasion if you want. But don't pretend that you can alter the main character's very personality and still call it Persuasion.

#persuasion #jane austen #i haven't gone this deep into literary critique since my Brit lit days #but Anne deserves better #and she also deserves to be understood in the context of her times #she did what she thought was right #she regretted it #but she never blamed herself or her family #it simply was what it was #time for another read through of the book i guess #not my anne #okay i might be done now #but probably not lbr #still salty #mine

2K notes · View notes

blindmagdalena · 5 months

Note

Hi, Amy! How are you?

You know, I've been having a lot of thoughts about Homelander's relationship with both Ashley and the rest of the Seven, and wanted to share them, if that's okay :)

Although at first glance it really seems that Homelander just hates his team, I think that it's a bit more complicated than that.

Sure he likes to bully them, intimidate them and generally just play mind games with the team. He's a sadist for sure. However, I also think that he rationalizes his mistreatment of them as "toughening them up".

I've had a lot of teachers (and one terrible boss) who had this mentallity. They use the people bellow them as pounching bags, an outlet for their own frustrations because they know they won't face any repercussions, but they don't see it as an abuse of power. They think that this mistreatment helps to build character and it's necessary.

In a way, they think "they are doing us a favor", and in my mind that's exactly how Homelander sees his relationship with the Seven. "Oh, they re weak and pathetic and so bellow me, but it's okay, I'll make them better" basically.

It's also a form of revenge, because Homelander went through abuse as well while he was in the lab. So, now he believes that pain and humiliation is something everyone should go through because it will make them stronger. This helps him justify his own suffering too. Because if pain isn't necessary to become better, why did he have to go through that?

I think (weirdly enough) that this is particularly true when it comes to his relationship with women.

In his mind, Alex's death was not just a way to intimidate Starlight. It was a loss she needed to experience to "understand the situation she was in". That's why during the interview he held her hand and even said that he missed her, acting like everything was fine between them. Because what he did was for Starlight's benefit so she doesn't have a right to hate him for it.

His issues distinguishing reality from fiction (as in marketing and PR stunts, branding, etc) also played a role in that, but that's beside the point.

AND ASHLEY!!?? I have so many thoughts about how he actually is, deep down, VERY fond of Ashley but feels the need to terrorize her bc she won't be a useful paw if he goes soft on her. Even if she's just using her, you don't hang over the most sucessful company of the world to someone you hate.

Yes, everything he does is horrible and ill-intended, but he doesn't realize it!

He thinks he can hurt people and still have an emotional connection to them, because abuse is just an intrinsical part of any relationship. That's what Jonah Vogelbaum and Vought taught him, and that's why he's always so dumbfounded when people turn on him.

(Poor thing, he really needs to be commited at this point 😩).

aahh wow, so many good points! i agree that Homelander absolutely ascribes to 'tough love,' like pushing Ryan off the roof. that is undoubtedly exactly how he was taught to fly, too. you've nailed his warped perspective on how he goes about teaching people lessons.

though a good deal of his bullying, especially in regards to A-Train and Deep, seems like him lashing out against them for not being his dream team. he's at his worst with them when he feels small and insecure. he treats them as extensions of himself and his image, and when they fail to live up to that, it infuriates him.

i don't know if i entirely agree with the latent fondness beneath his bullying of Ashley: if he is fond of her, i don't think he's aware of it at all. to me, it seems much more like she's his designated adult. a frazzled babysitter. someone he has terrified into being loyal and responsible for all the company related nuances he doesn't understand. it makes so much sense to me when you take into account what Starr said about Homelander having the emotional intelligence of a 14-year-old. she's his stand-in for Stan Edgar.

he's pretty openly doting when he has fondness for someone. Black Noir is a very good example of this.

that said, fondness is different from attachment. i do think he's both attached to and reliant on every member of his team. a teenager who lashes out at their friends and family is still very much reliant on those same people.

i like what you said about him viewing abuse as an intrinsic part of relationships, and something that shouldn't cause people to turn on him. it's fucked up and tragic, and his perspective definitely IS very skewed, but he shows us several times that he's actually pretty soft when it comes to his loved ones.

when Ryan has a panic attack, he doesn't scold him or tell him to get over it. he removes him from the situation, gives him space, and then empathizes with him. obviously he's much softer with his son bc he's actively looking to change the way he was raised through his son.

ultimately to me, Homelander's sadism doesn't come across as quite as meticulous or well thought out as he'd like people to believe. he's a wounded, frustrated child taking out his pain on those around him. he uses fear and torment to get his way because that's what was done to him, and yet he expects them to have the same weird reverence for him that he had for Vogelbaum.

#i hope this makes sense i'm feelin off my game today #but i LOVE your analysis here it's so good #thank you for sharing!#homelander meta #homelander #ask and you shall receive

31 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 8 months

Note

What makes a comic good in your eyes? And what makes it bad?

Oof, that's a BIG question that I can't exactly give one single answer to. There are a ton of factors. For me the biggest thing is writing, while the art might be a turnoff if it isn't polished in the beginning, it's still not a dealbreaker for me, I've read tons of comics that started off still figuring out their art (and that's the beauty of webcomics, really). It's when the writing isn't interesting or good that I tend to drop off. Maybe the plot doesn't make sense or takes too long to establish what it's trying to do, maybe the jokes feel forced or poorly written.

I think writing tends to sort of take an unintentional backseat in webcomics, and it just comes with the territory. Tons of online artists naturally come up with their own characters that they want to write stories for, so they gravitate towards webcomics. Whereas writers - even online ones - don't tend to see webcomics as the default, they'll usually end up in the fanfiction circles or on Wattpad or even just ditching the online format entirely and going straight into trad publishing. It's why there are so many writers looking for artists in the webcomic community, you won't find artists looking for writers quite so much because they usually wind up using webcomics as an entry point into writing. Writers can't use webcomics as an entry point into drawing quite as well, there's a LOT more upfront work into learning how to draw vs. learning how to write (but writing is ultimately harder to master, knowing how to write scenes on the page doesn't necessarily mean you're writing those scenes well).

So I find more often than not the writing ends up being a dealbreaker for me. Art gets me interested enough to take a peek, but the writing is what keeps me invested, so if the writing isn't sound, I'm probably not gonna stick with it. If a comic does feel like it isn't written (or even drawn) up to what I would define as "good", I try to identify what exactly what's wrong with it, not just so I can better understand why it isn't working, but so I can implement that understanding into my own work. It's not just learning what works in a comic, it's also learning what doesn't work.

Still, I try to distinguish between whether a comic is "good or bad" vs. whether or not it's even meant for me. I've definitely read comics in the past that didn't click with me but I could totally see why people liked it, it just didn't appeal to what I was looking for or my humor or whatever. Some comics are objectively great and they just don't connect with me, like Scoob & Shag, Homestuck, etc. where I can respect why people like them, I just like, couldn't get into them no matter how many times I tried LMAO And then some comics are objectively not great and I enjoy them anyways, like Deep Fried Pudge, which is literally just a daily single panel dad-humor-full-of-puns comic, it had no right being in my subscription list when I was still on Tapas but something about it was so charming to me. I feel bad even calling it "bad" because it's not trying to be anything, it's just this humble little passtime project that someone started and never stopped. And I mean it has not stopped updating since 2012, every time I check in on it I'm astounded to see it's STILL going at 4,036 episodes. I have no idea what power the person who makes this possesses but they will surely outlive us all, I can only rationalize its existence as the closest I've ever been to perceiving God.

#now i want to go back and find all the old comics i used to read on tapas #a lot of them haven't updated in years but they're still on the platform #and frankly i'm shocked so many of them never actually made it further than a couple thousand subs #that was a big following back then though i suppose #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

45 notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 2 years

Text

The maknae line

Much has been seen, said, done, thought and fought over when it comes to Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin.

These are just my opinions about Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung from spending hours and hours watching content. I am missing years of witnessing content as its released, but hopefully I have done my due diligence, gone back and watched and I’ve seen enough to come to logical conclusions.

And like everyone, I noticed the connections between these three as well as their relationships with the rest of the group. They all share closeness due to their respect for each other, their commitment to the group, and their passion to their craft.

All I want to do is write some stuff down about each of their personalities and my impressions of how they act with each other and what it might mean. These are my opinions and might be stuff you all have heard before but here they are anyway. Feel free to disagree and form your own opinions. Also, please feel free to point out if any of the images I used were edits because I just searched and grabbed some just for illustrative purposes.

I formed my opinions based on my fandom experiences throughout my life including my journey with BTS which began early 2020 because that is when I actually started paying attention to the individual members. Ok, it was Jimin. Jimin is who I paid attention to at first. (hahahaha)

Then I started this blog as a way to discern what I was seeing between Jimin and Jungkook, so I will use this as a jumping off point to describe my interpretations of the relationships between Jimin and Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyungie, and Jungkook and Tae.

RelationSHIPS...I knew what shipping was before BTS, but it wasn’t until BTS that I learned there was an actual word for it. Shipping is a construct of fan culture (as we know) and involves pairing two individuals together and creating romantic or sexual fantasies and imagining extended narratives about them based on what is observed. Or actually, based on nothing other than a fan being (sexually) attracted to at least one of them. Fanfiction and fanart are sometimes manifestations of this shipping mechanism that allow fans to have something “real” that bonds them to the objects of their obsession. Fanfiction and fanart can also be simply expressions of fandom and have nothing to do with shipping.

Most rational people still understand that shipping is fictional, but some are not able to distinguish the difference and believe their fantasy is reality. Please hear me out.

All the members are aware of shipping culture. It’s been part of Kpop since the get go. There’s no way to NOT know about it. And because Army is so huge, there’s a lot of shippers. I think the members most likely don’t pay much attention to it.

Anyway, because I am going to talk about pairing them off, I wanted to speak about my opinion of what shipping is. Now to say my thoughts about each member of the maknae line:

Talking about Jimin first because I’ve been paying attention to him the longest: He is a deep thinker. He is meticulous when it comes to details.

Jimin is very empathetic, has very strong compassion towards others. We call him emotionally intelligent because he can sense when someone needs support and doesn’t hesitate to offer it. He can be openly emotional. He feels emotions at a very deep level. At the same time, he can be very closed off and we have no idea what he’s going through. This would be the super-private Jimin.

And we know he cares very very deeply about those he loves. I also think he has a hidden need to feel that appreciation and care and trust reciprocated because of deep-seated insecurities about himself that he’s had to work through over the years.

When it comes to his work, he can be extremely laser-focused on goals. He has a work ethic and ambitious drive that is off the charts. He is a natural self-starter and a natural leader.

Other words that describe Jimin: Professionalism. Perfectionist. Constant self-reflection. Humility. He has stated a few times that when he realized Army was still standing by them throughout the pandemic, he thought he could have or should have done more in return.

Jimin lives to be an idol, we’ve heard him say that and we know from years of content that he puts his heart and soul into his singing, dancing and performing. He used to be so hard on himself if he wasn’t perfect. This is his perfectionism and insecurity.

He has said when he dances he is in his own world. To me, that means he feels a high level of confidence and freedom when he dances and this allows him to be the bold and assertive Jimin that we saw for so many years.* (refer to notes at the end of this post)

In his WeLive last week, he assured us he was living a very emotionally calm and routine life these days. His days are filled with the work it takes to make music. He looks forward to a return to the stage soon to see us because he’s an idol and that’s what he does. He is actively taking care of himself to be the best idol he can be. Jimin has found a version of himself that makes him happy right now.

We know Jimin is not really a loner. He reminded us during Festa dinner in June. He is not a soloist, he is part of a group. It is part of his MBTI make up. Personality tests like that will ask the same question over and over, just in different ways. His answers would have leaned toward feeling more comfortable with people, most likely his circle of friends, and not being comfortable when alone. He needs someone to play off of socially otherwise he shuts down.

And apparently his “recharging” mode is sleeping.**

As I said, Jimin LIVES to be an idol. He thrives when he’s with the other members.

Because Jimin is not a loner Jimin needs people in his daily life. People that he trusts, that know all of him. It would make sense that it would be people who can really relate to his lifestyle and life’s work.

At Hobi’s party, after getting over his initial apprehension in an unfamiliar environment, Jimin mingled and spent time with many guests. Instagrams are full of pics of him and others at the party.

Let’s talk about Kim Taehyung now.

Social butterfly Kim Taehyung is definitely an intensely playful personality. He has a great imagination and is very skilled at spinning up a character on the spot and thus acting comes easily for him.

And this leads to one of the main things we love to see in he and Jimin’s relationship: their ability to spontaneously jump into roleplay with each other without saying a word.

Tae has hinted that he’s felt “trapped” (maybe not the right word) in his BTS persona. We’ve heard him talk about wanting to show us other sides of himself as well. He has said that he tried to keep V of BTS and Kim Taehyung separate. This might be something they’re conditioned to do as trainees? I’m not sure, but in Kpop, it’s been said that group members are given a role to fulfill. I don’t know if BTS adhered to this much. If they did at first, they eventually shed this as not being authentic.

But being one to “act out,” Tae can look at people like they are the love of his life, he has this gaze where it looks like he’s about to take them back to the hotel and jump in bed with them and it is not limited to anyone in particular. The times I mostly remember seeing this are during performances. When he does this it is Tae in full “V of BTS” mode.

As much as he’s said about wanting to go beyond V of BTS or to find Kim Taehyung, I don’t think he realizes his idol persona TODAY is really not going to be too far off center from his real self because typically as we mature, we just tend to naturally and unconsciously shed behaviors we no longer need to fit in with our peers and social circles. All the members have experienced this.

Writing this, I realize I probably have not seen enough of the real Kim Taehyung to really say as much about the private Tae as I can about Jimin and Jungkook.

I think private Tae can be very sensitive emotionally. His family is important to him. He doesn’t like rules much (actually I think all three of these guys pick and choose which rules they want to adhere to hahaha).

Tae explores what’s out there in the world, he is more cosmopolitan and lately, he’s really shown us how far and wide his interests span in his tastes in art, fashion and other passions. He’s kind of an old soul with an avant garde streak.

Tae makes friends very easily and is very at ease with his other male friends.Tae is the kind of person who can maintain many friendships at a high level because of his very social nature. He has no problem introducing himself to others as we witnessed during the Grammys this year.

Of all the members, I believe Tae would be the one to handle his album release in a similar manner as Hobi did, having a listening party and it be like a laid back piano/hookah lounge vibe type thing where everyone is sitting around on sofas drinking martinis and eating canapes and couple dancing.

At Hobi’s party, Tae flitted about from person to person, danced in the middle of the dance floor like nobody was watching and pretty much was in his element.

Here’s Jeon Jungkook:

I don’t know how you can hate Jungkookie. He’s like an open book. What you see is what you get. What triggers people to hate on him? I have no idea.

But Jungkook’s personality... to describe him is to just watch him in action ... I would say Jungkook is the most quirky personality of all the members... the weirdo of the bunch.

Jeon Jungkook is an anomaly: starting so young and then finding such global success at such a young age in the cutthroat Kpop industry and still be the sweet, unassuming person that he is, is a testament to how he was able to handle the hard work, grinding schedule, and good luck of having god-given talent and the influence and support of the other members...ESPECIALLY the influence of the others that surrounded him as he grew up.

He is a free-spirit creative. Passionate about singing and dancing and whatever thing is fascinating him this week. The man has perfect pitch vocals and dance skills that are world class. He has a desire to be different. He’s not very outgoing, but like an expressive introvert. Almost what we call a wallflower. Not exactly moody. Aloof? Anti-social is not really correct either. I will find the right word... but definitely NOT an alpha to all you fanfic writers HAHAHA! Definitely NOT the conversationalist that Jimin and especially Tae can be.

Half the time, he appears to just be along for the ride, but I don’t think much gets by Jungkook. Very observant. Very intelligent. Very good memory. But sometimes just can’t stay focused which manifests in being fidgety.

Not an instigator. But not really a follower either... A FREE SPIRIT I SAID! I think he is slightly impulsive too. Has a competitive streak. He has stated he is lazy which to me says he is not a natural self-starter but when he puts his mind to it, will learn a skill or become very disciplined... examples: his boxing pastime and adhering to his conditioning regimen for performing.

Jungkook has matured enough to take care of himself well these days. When in situations that make him uncomfortable or with unfamiliar people, he can now handle these types of instances with confidence but he had to learn how to do this. Jungkook being the type who is not a self-starter, he needs a motivator in his life, but once he gets started, watch out, the golden maknae will become the master.

At Hobi’s party, after checking out his surroundings, Jungkook mostly either sat alone or danced with Hobi.

NOTE: Of course, I was not at the party, no one except the people who attended can really say how the members were while there and who they hung around most. I only have the available photos to illustrate my points.

Jimin and Tae:

Their documented history is well-known. They have talked about and displayed their emotional connection many times. I already touched on their roleplay and their soulmate relationship.

Jimin and Tae butted heads at first, same-agers, young and hungry to be successful at their careers when they debuted, still rough around the edges. We’ve heard from the other members that Jimin and Tae were most likely to have disagreements pre-debut and in the early years. Still learning how to live and work as a team. Which led to the infamous dumpling fight. The dumpling fight supposedly led to what sounds like an emotional soul-to-soul talk.

The story goes, they went around sulled up for a while, then got together, talked it out. Probably some (alcohol-fueled) words were said to each other that peeled away layers and layers of emotional self-protection. If you are able to reach that point, it is very liberating to bare your soul to someone and have them accept you as you are.

I think Jimin’s natural compassion touched something in Tae so profoundly, it made Tae look at Jimin in a totally different light. I think Jimin allowed Tae to feel like he could take (emotional) risks (as a male) that maybe he had not considered or was uncomfortable to do before. And this is the foundation for their level of comfort and ease with each other. They worked it out and the word “soulmate” got stamped on their relationship from there on out.

Today, I believe all the members would consider each other mutual soulmates on some level, but Jimin and Tae were the first to reach that level and maintain it to this day.

Jimin and Tae have told us they speak to each other often. I think they are great supporters of each other’s well-being but I don’t think they spend a lot of time together when not working. Their interests are too divergent.

Tae and Jungkook:

From what I’ve seen, it’s a classic close sibling relationship. I see a lot of rough housing puppy play especially when they were younger. They were partners in crime when it came to being mischievous back then. A lot of physical closeness and skinship. Teasing, some big brother/little brother love going on.

Nowadays they just seem like best buddies slinging their arms around each other. I think Tae naturally falls into his hyung role very easily with Jungkook. I think sometimes Jungkook is done with it though. It’s like super-intense Tae clashing with laid-back Jungkook... a push and pull that is very subtle but it’s there.

I watch carefully but I don’t see a really noticeable emotional connection.

Jungkook and Tae have a great work relationship as does the entire team. That’s what makes them the top of the game. I see A LOT of interactions between Tae and Jungkook while performing, while they are in front of cameras. I don’t hear much about what goes on between them when they aren’t performing.

I don’t think Tae and Jungkook spend much time (if any) together when not working. Their interests are too divergent.

Jimin and Jungkook:

Though they basically grew up together, Jungkook was able to mature into adulthood under the watchful eye of Jimin who was years ahead in maturity.

I would say everything Jungkook knows about being compassionate and empathetic toward others, he learned from observing the other members but mostly Jimin. Everything he knows about work ethic, he learned from Jimin. Everything he knows about enjoying life and celebrating other people, he learned from Jimin. How to navigate uncomfortable situations, he learned from Jimin. He’s said more than once that he watches Jimin and its obvious in all the years of content that he’s always watching him.

There is a palpable level of chemistry between them on-camera. This is the type of thing you can’t really fake. You either have it or you don’t. We’ve seen movie actors have such great chemistry on screen, and then we hear about them actually dating and sometimes getting married in real life. You can’t fake the chemistry.

I think Jungkook enjoys a comfort level with Jimin that he does not possess with the other members. I think we all agree on that. There is an intimacy and closeness in their body language and tone of voice toward each other. It’s been a documented fact by staff and people on the street that they spend a lot of time together during work and off work. What they have in common is their approach to their work and what they choose to do off-work.

There is also a push and pull that is sometimes noticeable between Jimin and Jungkook but they are not really like the others. The thing that sets them apart is the lack of honorifics, the body language and the facial expressions. You just have to watch closely. This push and pull is more about their personalities than the age difference/honorifics customs.

I could go on and on about Jimin and Jungkook because, in my opinion, they have the closest bond amongst the maknae line. I am certain we will continually see this bond between them express itself no matter where they are.

What does all this mean “shipping-wise”? Since in my mind, shipping means an imagined romantic/sexual relationship, I will say I am not a shipper. Vmin are not dating in real life. Taekook are not dating in real life.

I will be honest here, when I see taekook trending, I DO look to see what it is and it will be Tae and Jungkook next to each other in whatever the latest content drop is and that’s fine! But I can never scroll very long before I reach a post that is an edited image (edited Jimin out and inserted Tae with Jungkook, etc.) or toxic/negative/hating on Jimin so I stop looking. I never see this level of toxicity with any other shipping groups.

If any of them are dating in real life, it would be Jimin and Jungkook. Not fantasizing, not creating a narrative. Just watching and seeing things as they happen. We know what we think from the things we’ve seen, but the truth is something only they know.

=====================================

Further explanations noted with the asterisks:

*That long break during the pandemic almost shattered Jimin’s ability to hold on to those parts of his idol persona that were what we call “shameless and bold”. Where did “shameless” Jimin go? Why are we suddenly confronted with so much “shy” Jimin? We heard him say he wondered during the pandemic what his purpose was since he could no longer perform. Jimin lives to be an idol. I would venture to say all that anxiety really wore him down and made him question everything. And the lack of immediate feedback of an audience during all those recorded performances made him lose his confidence somewhat. His subconscious was telling him “what’s the point of this?” But as they returned to performing with live audiences, we saw hints of the old Jimin returning. During the Vegas concerts we really witnessed Jimin getting his mojo back finally.

**Comprehensive personality tests will also describe a person’s natural recharging/rest mode. Some people get recharged by being active like participating in sports, being outdoors, or some other highly physical activity, some recharge by reading, gaming or doing another low physical energy/high brain energy activity, others recharge by socializing with people, and then there’s those who recharge by sleeping. All are valid and natural reflexes according to personality research.

#jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts maknae line #vmin #taekook #jikook #kookmin

142 notes · View notes

celecaster · 16 days

Note

Not the rat anon but I assume it's because you hang out with mostly rationalists

Serious question though but what do you mean by rationalists have disdain for schizophrenics and the brain damaged?

I don't 'hang out' with anybody... My entire bloge's existence is 'I'm sad and lonely and alone' so that is an odd assumption to make.

Anyway, my understanding of The Internet Phenomenon Of The Rationalists is that we may have 'rationalism' conceptually, as like an abstract ideology, but then we have the actual people who put it into practice. And like all demographics you can't really generalise it, I'm certain there are self-identified rationalists out there who are very much just 'knowledge and logic are super important' and not much more of the other peripheral stuff.

And again, this is something I do not care enough to look into, so selection bias likely comes into play, but a lot of the ones I have seen online (not all) express ideas that imply 'logic' is a choice and that 'stupid' people are either stupid on purpose or stupid for reasons I think are shallow [ eg 'Because the school curricula suck' ], that (material) reality in itself is more important than anything by virtue of being material reality alone [ since I distinguish between 'true' and 'useful' I disagree with this ], and have very flippant attitudes towards things heavily associated with schizos [ delusions, magical thinking, internal identity incongruences, disorganised speech, paraphilias, whatever ] that bother me for the same reason those 'a bit odd innit' positivity postes bother me: it's not likely out of an active bigotry, but you can tell they can speak so insensitively because 'these people exist and have lives and reasons for their beliefs/experiences that aren't what you assume based on your own personal framework' is something they never have to think about because it doesn't affect them. Which is, fine, fair enough, but I'm going to be very rah-rah about the idea that you're the winner of the Thinking War if that doesn't even cross your mind very much.

I once read this thing about schizophrenia by that one super famous rationalist, what's-his-face, Slate Star guy or whatever. Maybe 'offencive' is too strong a word for it but it was very much a 'This is a guy who talks about schizophrenia like it's an Etiological Model Of Case Study Reviews and not actual real life people who are alive and living and exist.'

And to be fair, that guy wrote with that 'snarky' tone all the time that again means it is likely not reflective of any conscious or active bigotry, but blah blah 'you can only afford to be flippant because it doesn't affect you' blah blaaaaah.

Ultimately the problem with many of them is they are very much Opinion Havers who insist on having Opinions on matters where a committed opinion is neither useful nor necessary, especially so when they are trying to discourse about the identities of fringe communities they are not a part of nor immerse themselves in.

If I see another rationalist have something to say about ~paraphiliacs~ when their idea of what a paraphilia is is to regurgitate the DSM-V criteria I will be, uh... sad. It's sad to be treated by smart people as if one is not an actual person but is instead a mere theoretical subject for speculation and discourse.

#d #ultimately I am not trying to commit to some 'this is problematic!' type of accusation #it's worse than problematic: it annoys me personally #which is the worst crime of all

4 notes · View notes

thepoliticalvulcan · 1 month

Text

Techno-apocalyptica & Schizophrenia

Spoilers for Fallout

The rational part of my brain recognizes that the timing is too close for that poor guy who self immolated in front of Trump's court proceedings to have seen it or know much about it. However, I'm struck by the big reveal of Vault-tec conspiring with other corporations, oligarchs really, to end the world so they can all be the unquestioned absolute rulers of their Vaults and then take a "free market approach" to rebuilding civilization. It is unsettling the degree to which this is reminiscent of the theses of the now deceased gentleman's manifesto, an admittedly deeply troubled document full of an inability to accept that despoilers and despots might arrive at similar processes by similar motives independent of one another, or the inability to distinguish between cautionary tales and propaganda.

Having skimmed that manifesto and then watching Fallout, it does make me wonder. Could there be ideologues and plutocrats who have talked themselves into razing entire economies and livelihoods, perhaps literally through violence, under the idea that this would be "creative destruction?"

Unfortunately the answer is actually yes and its no paranoid delusion since this is the fervent belief of those among the fever swamp religious right who believe that prodding Israel into first rebuilding their great temple and then getting eradicated for their trouble will kickstart the End Times. This is one of those instances where I think materialist philosophy and materialist explanations simply cannot account for the elite doing things that are against what a rational person would believe is against their interests: whether its starting wars, pumping money into obvious scams like NFTs, the metaverse, and now their new religion: AI; but ultimately even the rich are simply a variable number of monkeys who happen to own a stupendous number of typewriters mindlessly pounding away trying to create value.

It is fashionable on the materialist left to assume the rich know what they're doing and are pursuing their self interest at our expense in a lawful, rational evil way.

Unless they're not. Unless they're possessed of grandiose and mystical delusions, a spiritual level belief in the goodness and wisdom of the Free Market, or in a God that is whispering in their ear and confirming all of their biases.

What is clear to me is that Max Azzarello was a mentally ill man desperately trying to make sense of a deranged world that seems to offer cruelty from the top. He deserved intervention long before he met his fate. He deserved a kinder world. He definitely misjudged Matt Groening. He tried to find order in the madness of our variable number of unhinged billionaires blindly groping for profit and indifferent to who they smash. I disagree with that order. I disagree with him ending his life. I pity him, for I think our society and its cruel oligarchs failed him.

I think he was broken by a reality that was too grim to face and he resorted to connecting threads that had no business being connected, but the theses of mad oligarchs plotting to destroy the world because they know their positions are untenable, that they are unwilling or unable to live peaceably and sustainably with the goose that lays the golden eggs, and thus absolute rule must logically be their endgame since eventually, one would assume, perpetually failing upwards, scam after scam, like Sam Altman of Open AI, or Elon Musk, must cease to be satisfying.

What if they're not actually content to simply jockey for position on the leaderboard of capitalism, admittedly while trampling the rest of us? What if in their bones they think they're the only ones fit to rule and merely influencing society by creating incentives and disincentives, creating the structures we bounce around inside of, is not enough?

I think Mr. Azzarello was wrong about the tech oligarchs for the most part. Except for the ones who are mixing a toxic stew of Laissez Faire, Francoism, and their own personal bespoke interpretations of the Bible.

Those people are real, some of them are quite powerful, and I do think they'd end the world if they believed sincerely that it would kickstart the Rapture under the assumption Christ will anoint them as his ministers since they proved to be oh so good at wealth management.

I'm fine, really, I have no intent to harm myself or anyone literal or proverbial enemies of mankind. Please don't send that bot to inquire after me, unless Tumblr is going to start letting it speak aloud and sound like Matt Berry for an upgrade. That would actually be pretty rad.

#fallout #fallout show #donald trump #foucault's boomerang #civil rights #nfts #metaverse #AI #artificial intelligence #nuclear weapons #conspiracy theories #maybe the rich are stupid #fanatics #israel #rapture

2 notes · View notes

jzixuans · 1 year

Note

hello i'm here to wish you a very Jin Zixuan day 🤸🏻‍♂️ whats a favorite moment or thought or headcanon about the birthday boy that you have tucked in the back of your mind at all times?

GOOD MORNING ABBY HAPPY JIN ZIXUAN DAY WE ARE POPPING SO MANY BOTTLES FOR THE ONLY MAN IN THE WORLD

ohhhhhhh i have so many thoughts about him you are getting many more than you asked for and i wish i was more articulate today but i am mostly filled with coffee right now and i have to finish a midterm later

1) he's a family man!!! obviously there's jiang yanli and jin ling and he loved them SO much but also i think it's kind of canon that he's a bit of a mama's boy and i think a lot about how between the betrothal and other social/political obligations he was largely adhering to what his parents wanted for him. also i will eternally thank cql for the extra bits we got of him (im like 90% sure they were added but i haven't finished the novel) of him trying to get jin guangshan to back off of jin guangyao. i think in his perfect world he really would have liked to have jin guangyao treated well in the family and would have wanted his parents to be able to reconcile jin guangyao's presence but i also think he wasn't willing to transgress those boundaries in order for that to happen because of filial piety and also class and also because symbolically that would have fractured his image of family more than repaired it :(

2) follow up to this a scene cql gave us that i think about sooooo sosososoososo often is "a-yao, you always avoid eye contact when you're hiding something." like yes cql had jgy play him like a fiddle and so this quirk was obviously artificial but it's the fact that not only did they spend enough time together for jgy to fib and plant this habit, but that jin zixuan NOTICED and he REMEMBERED. he's not as socially inept as people make him out to be! he's just awkward!!

3) this one is my most close to heart headcanon that's probably not canon but i like to think that jgy is actually older than jzx. either by a year or two but born on the same day, or (sexier) by just a number of hours. it kind of rubs a little more salt in the wound for jzx to be the recognized heir and jgy nothing more than a glorified attendant. more simply though it's endearing to think about little big brother a-yao and his big little brother :'))

4) the jin zixuan honour code thesis is REAL and THRIVING and i kiss xuanwu cave every morning on the mouth with TONGUE. him defending mianmian in the cave when no one else but lan wangji (hi xuanjimian friendship agenda) does is so good all the time in every adaptation and then you add to the mix cql's "is there any shortage of corpses lately?" (god he's so respectful even to wen corpses) and him honouring the girl he Thought was giving him soup by raising her rank and then him feeling so Bad about yelling at jiang yanli for the soup incident that he kind of just lay down and took the consequence is like!! in my mind there's (to oversimplify): lan wangji being the novel's most upright unwavering moral compass, there's wei wuxian being the novel's drive for justice, and then there's jin zixuan with his heart full of integrity and honour. my thoughts on this are summed up in "and so my heart beats wildly" by lily_winterwood during the scene where jin zixuan forces su she (?) to forfeit because he attacked mianmian and then forfeits himself because he also technically broke the rules. it's similar to nie mingjue's "after i kill him, i'll kill myself" but less out of some moral give and take but more because it's the right thing to do

5) xuanjimian friendship agenda :) and it is soooooo important to me that mianmian has her own #girlloser moments. she is not there to be their cool distinguished completely rational girl best friend. she is there because she looked at these two and said I Can Make Them Worse. they're all three a little bit mean and bitchy and incredibly self-righteous. too busy joining three sports teams and nine clubs to do any normal person hang out activities. my only crumbs are xuanwu cave, cql putting mianmian in the jin sect, and mianmian's (2) interactions with lan wangji but. they are best friends and they are all three jock prep nerds hope this helps <3

6) secret other friendship agenda: jzx lwj and nhz being xiao 3zun. they're like 3zun if 3zun was a little bit more cringe and had to sit at the kiddie table with their juice boxes while their brothers were being a cool political power throuple

#did i mention that my brain is full of coffee* because i feel like i have just been saying Words for the past half hour #a-song-without-words #ask #24hr jin zixuan lockdown #*i am not a coffee drinker .#i should put a disclaimer that this is the self-indulgent sandbox that i have been sitting in for over a year and a half and so has likely #deformed from canon support. but it's jin zixuan's birthday so we can break the rules it's fine

9 notes · View notes

maccharliedennis · 6 months

Note

I know for certain there's folks who are into sunny and under 17. A mutual in law of mine is 15 and a big fan

OH YEAH THERES DEFINITELY TEENS ON SUNNYBLR.....AND LIKE.....OKAY.....

Theres nothing Wrong with that honestly!!! Like, i was obsessed with some very inaapropriate adult things when i was a teenager. And I still love a lot of those things today. So it feels dumb for me to arbitrarily draw a line in the sand and say "only enjoy sunny if you are OLDER than this!!!!"

But at the same time i just hope that younger viewers know to not imitate the behaviours onscreen.

And what i mean when i say that is this;

I know most teenagers are smart enough and possess enough critical thinking ability to not degrade or hurt people. I know most of yall are intelligent enough to not commit arson, go drunk driving or do any of the other awful things depicted in Sunny.

But AT THE SAME TIME, it can be really easy to accidentally normalize that behaviour in your mind especially when ur young.

When I was a teenager i watched a lot of family guy and used 4chan obsessively (2 things that I Do Not Miss from that time in my life) bc it was SOOOOOO EDGY THAT IT WAS HILARIOUS. And even though i knew rationally that what I was seeing was Wrong, it also kind of......diminished the reality of what what being depicted for me.

Seeing violent racism/sexism/etc on 4chan felt like a big joke to me. Nobody could ACTUALLY BELIEVE THIS STUFF RIGHT??? So it was all in good fun! It was just a JOKE BRO!!! I was allowed to tell racially violent jokes despite being white bc i WAS JUST JOKINGGG BROOOOOOO. And i REALLY believed that. I really believed that it was okay to verbally degrade others if i was doing it in jest and didnt actually believe in it.

IN CONCLUSION;

Teenagers, i dont give a fuck if ur watching Sunny honestly. As long as you are remembering to distinguish between reality and fiction and adjusting your real life behaviour accordingly

(I also nicknamed by highschool best friend "FAGGOT" and would call them that in front of other people that we didnt know and everyone at school thought i was literally commiting hate crimes against them and it was a VERY BAD LOOK FOR ME but then they came out to me as gay and said they had a big gay crush on me and we are still friends 15 years later so...your results may vary)

#iasip #moi #always sunny #this got way longer than i intended it to ahdgsgagsj

1 note · View note

nebris · 8 months

Text

How we think about race

The most important fact about race

Sam Smith, 2016 - It doesn't really exist. At least not the way many Americans think it does. There is simply no undisputed scientific definition of race. What are considered genetic characteristics are often the result of cultural habit and environmental adaptation. As far back as 1785, a German philosopher noted that "complexions run into each other." Julian Huxley suggested in 1941 that "it would be highly desirable if we could banish the question-begging term 'race' from all discussions of human affairs and substitute the noncommittal phrase 'ethnic group.' That would be a first step toward rational consideration of the problem at hand." Anthropologist Ashley Montagu in 1942 called race our "most dangerous myth."

Yet in our conversations and arguments, in our media, and even in our laws, the illusion of race is given great credibility. As a result, that which is transmitted culturally is considered genetically fixed, that which is an environmental adaptation is regarded as innate and that which is fluid is declared immutable.

Many still hang on to a notion similar to that of Carolus Linnaeus, who declared in 1758 that there were four races: white, red, dark and black. Others make up their own races, applying the term to religions (Jewish), language groups (Aryan) or nationalities (Irish). Modern science has little impact on our views. Our concept of race comes largely from religion, literature, politics, and the oral tradition. It comes creaking with all the prejudices of the ages. It reeks of territoriality, of jingoism, of subjugation, and of the abuse of power.

DNA research has revealed just how great is our misconception of race. In The History and Geography of Human Genes, Luca Cavalli-Sforza of Stanford and his colleagues describe how many of the variations between humans are really adaptations to different environmental conditions (such as the relative density of sweat glands or lean bodies to dissipate heat and fat ones to retain it). But that's not the sort of thing you can easily build a system of apartheid around. As Thomas S. Martin has written:

The widest genetic divergence in human groups separates the Africans from the Australian aborigines, though ironically these two 'races' have the same skin color. ~ There is no clearly distinguishable 'white race.' What Cavalli-Sforza calls the Caucasoids are a hybrid, about two-thirds Mongoloid and one-third African. Finns and Hungarians are slightly more Mongoloid, while Italians and Spaniards are more African, but the deviation is vanishingly slight.

Well, it sure feels like race

Regardless of what science says, however, myth can kill and cause pain just as easily as scientific truth. And regardless of what science says, there are no Japanese players in the NBA or, as anthropologist Alice Brues told Newsweek,"If I parachute into Nairobi, I know I'm not in Oslo."

In fact, give or take a few thousand years, it's unlikely that those of a Nordic skin complexion would stay that way living under the African sun. Similarly, the effects of a US diet are strong enough that the first generations of both European and Asian Americans have found themselves looking up at their grandchildren.

In such ways adaptation mimics what many think of as race. But who needs science when we have our own eyes? If it looks like race, that's good enough for us.

Further, we are obsessed with the subject even as we say we wish to ignore it. A few years back, a study of urban elections coverage found five times as many stories about race as about taxes.

We can't even agree on what race is. In the 1990 census, Americans said they belonged to some 300 different races or ethnic groups. American Indians divided themselves into 600 tribes and Latinos into 70 categories.

The real reason race is important to us

Even as we talk endlessly of race and ethnicity, we simultaneously go to great lengths to prove that we are all the same. Why this contradiction? The answer can be partly found in the tacit assumption of many that human equity must be based primarily on competitive equality. Listen to talk about race (or sex) and notice how often the talk is also about competition. The cultural differences (real or presumed) that really disturb us are ones of competitive significance: thigh circumference, height, math ability and so forth. We accept more easily other differences -- varieties of hair, degree of subcutaneous fat, prevalence of sickle cell anemia -- because they don't affect (or affect far less) who gets to the top.

Once having decided which traits are important, we assign causes to them on the basis of convenience rather than fact. Our inability to sort out the relative genetic, cultural, and environmental provenance of our differences doesn't impede our judgment at all. It is enough that a difference is observed. Thus we tend to deal neither with understanding what the facts about our differences and similarities really mean -- or, more importantly, with their ultimate irrelevance to developing a world where we can live harmoniously and happily with each other. We don't spend the effort to separate facts from fiction because both cut too close to our inability to appreciate and celebrate our human differences. It is far easier to pretend either that these differences are immutable or that they don't exist at all.

The Catch-22 of ethnicity

And so we come to the Catch-22 of ethnicity. It is hard to imagine a non-discriminatory, unprejudiced society in which race and sex matter much. Yet in our efforts to reach that goal, our society and its institutions constantly send the conflicting message that they are extremely important.

For example, our laws against discriminatory practices inevitably heighten general consciousness of race and sex. The media, drawn inexorably to conflict, plays up the issue. And the very groups that have suffered under racial or sexual stereotypes consciously foster countering stereotypes -- "you wouldn't understand, it's a black thing" -- as a form of protection. Thus, we find ourselves in the odd position of attempting to create a society that shuns invidious distinctions while at the same time -- often with fundamentalist or regulatory fervor -- accentuating those distinctions.

In the process we reduce our ethnic problems to a matter of regulation and power, and reduce our ambitions to the achievement of a tolerable stalemate rather than the creation of a truly better society. The positive aspects of diversity remain largely ignored and non-discrimination becomes merely another symbol of virtuous citizenship -- like not double-parking or paying your taxes.

Martin Luther King said once:

Something must happen so as to touch the hearts and souls of men that they will come together, not because the law says it, but because it is natural and right.

Sorry, Martin. Our approach to prejudice and discrimination is not unlike our approach to drugs: We plan to simply rule them out of existence. In so doing, we have implicitly defined the limits of virtue as merely the absence of malice.

1 note · View note

elijahkelly · 1 year

Text

2/12/2023

3:04am. I'm laying here trying to sleep but my brain won't shut off. Didn't take melatonin tonight so my body is probably struggling to put itself to sleep without help.

Had a moment where I did not feel safe. Small panic attack, I was feeling very distressed, like I was in danger. It was very reminiscent of the feeling I associated with laying in bed in one of mom's old apartments late at night, Scooby Doo playing on the tv, and all of a sudden the room got really bright as a truck pulled up and parked, it's headlights shining right through the window. I felt very unsafe then, and I felt that way tonight.

Going home tomorrow. Or today, I guess. Haven't been home since my sister, brother in law, niece, two nephews, and their dog moved out of my dad's house. I have to go fill out a thing so my dad can file my taxes, Dylan needs to get his new car tags from his parents, and I want to go see my sister's new house.

My mind has been coming back to how much things have changed a lot recently. Thinking about how I used to see my family almost every day, now I'm lucky if I see them more than once a month. I used to work cleaning the gym back at home, now I'm a part-time manager of a sub-division of my department, part-time drag queen who has almost completed their bachelors in Psychology. So many people I used to know are like strangers to me, and I've met so many amazing new people. Like Osvaldo.

Ozzy is very important in my life right now. He helps to distinguish the relationships the "old me" formed from the relationships the "new me" has formed. He's quickly become one of my best friends. We talk about everything, hang out a lot, and poke fun at each other all the time. He reminds me that I do bring something to the table that gives me value enough to keep around. He's my favorite person that I've met since I started college. He helps me retain my childhood through interests we share, while also helping me to grow up. We smoked weed together recently, and it was my first time smoking real weed before. I got to do it with him and it was a real bonding moment.

In case you haven't noticed, if anyone's reading this, I kinda just let my mind wander and say what it wants to.

I need to talk about the future, because I'm scared of it and I need to rationalize it. Starting with school. I have less than three semesters of college left, and I have hardly a clue what I want to do after that. I've played with the idea of grad school, getting my masters so I don't have to have a space between. If I can get all of my school business out of the way, that'd be ideal. But what about a job? I don't know what I want to do or how I'm going to do it, which is horrifying. And I'm running out of time. Dylan's going through a similar thought process at the moment.

It feels like Dylan and I are in a weird space right now. Our relationship feels "gray," and that's the best way I can describe it. I love him, I know that I do, but I think I'm getting bored. I love him to death, and I don't want to lose him, but I feel constrained. I never had a real dating phase of my life. Yeah, relationships would come and go, but before Dylan I had never been in a relationship for more than a month. Now we've just passed two years and I'm so happy for that. But, in all honesty, a small part of me feels kinda robbed of the experience of dating in college, figuring things out, adventuring. He's my only sexual partner I've ever had, so I don't know if the sex we're having is good or if there's something I'm missing. I pined for him the first four years I knew him, so it's essentially like we've been dating for six years. And maybe it's supposed to feel this way, but it feels like we've hit a slump. Nothing really interesting is going on. Idk, I'm not sure if I'm experiencing a normal part of relationships or what, but I know for certain that I don't want Dylan to go anywhere.

I feel an intense feeling inside that something tragic is going to happen to me. I have had this feeling for a long time. Part of me believes I'm going to get cancer. Another part of me sees a potential future where I die relatively soon, like in the next few years. Yes, I know that's possible for everyone, but something in my head says that it'll definitely happen to me. I've thought about it so much that I now feel a combination of fear and calmness about it. Not like I've accepted my fate, but it has motivated me to live my life purposefully and not get too wrapped up in silly things that don't matter. I've made it a goal to have fun, enjoy my time on earth while I have it, and live one day at a time. But there's still that feeling...

I don't know why but I feel overdue for tragedy. Every couple months or so, something devastating happens to throw a wrench in the works. Back in November, we had to put down my childhood dog, Jet. We had him since I was five (15 years) and it was like losing my best friend. But that was four months ago, so it feels like something new and awful could happen at any moment. Not that I want it to, of course, but if we're following the trend of my life, something new should've happened by now to ruin my life.

Anyways, I feel like I've talked my brain down to potentially get some sleep. I hope so, because I have a lot of driving ahead of me tomorrow.

Thank you for reading this, whoever you are. If you're me from the future, I hope you're well. I hope the bad things I expect to happen have the grace to hold off, for your sake (and mine). If you aren't me, I wonder how you found this. I don't plan to disclose the existence of these posts to anyone until the absolute last possible moment so there's something to look back on and peek into my conscience throughout my life. So if you aren't me and you're reading this, did something happen to me? And if you're someone who knows/knew and loves/loved me, thank you. The people who I value most in my life are the source of my vitality and drive. If I was alone, I probably would've ended it a long long time ago. But hopefully I leave a good impact on the people in my life for the rest of the time I have. I'm getting caught up in my head again.

I'm tired as fuck, I hope it isn't hard to fall asleep. Goodnight.

#gay #lgbt #lgbtq #nonbinary #life #update

0 notes

minsyal · 3 years

Text

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg #re8 #re8 heisenberg #Resident Evil Village #resident evil heisenberg #lord heisenberg #resident evil 8 #re8 imagines

500 notes · View notes

oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

Text

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

635 notes · View notes

jjungkooksthighs · 4 years

Text

Claws of Carnality | jjk (3)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting

Summary: Denial is a crude adversary in how it battles your want to accept the alpha that has no shadings of doubt that you are, in fact, his mate. He intends to clear things up for you using the one surefire thing that will, however, prove him to truly be yours and you are utterly helpless in denying him.

A/N: So, here we are with part three already. Goodness, I can’t even believe how much attention this has gotten so far. Please keep it up, you guys! It really feeds my creative juices and encourages me when you guys let me know what you think of the stories I put out! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next part. Things are gradually going to begin to heat up from here on out and I can’t wait to see how you all react!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You try to swim through the flurry of thoughts, the floundering disbelief heavy as you wade through it in spite of the amused alpha that watches you with interest as a myriad of expressions pull at your features. It’s difficult to keep yourself afloat amidst the frenzy of emotions that cascade over you and your alpha notices this in the way that you fidget where you stand in the intensity with which he regards you, your hand clutching at your skirt as you inhale through your mouth to attempt to replace the air that eludes you.

One side of his lips curl upward in the effect he’s already had on you that only deepens in your silent refusal to acknowledge the final piece of the puzzle that would complete the missing segment of conviction still lost to you.

Unlike you, Jungkook has not an inkling of doubt that you are, without question, his mate. He just hadn’t known up until a few moments ago that you are to become something so much deeper than that to him that will extend into his very being, for even he’d had no idea that you are destined to be his soulmate in which there hasn’t been a pair of wolves like that for many thousands of years.

It all made sense to him in how his eyes had found themselves magnetized to the opposite pole that was you, the constant holder of his attention whenever he’d had the privilege to watch you frolic gleefully with your omegean friends outside your den whenever he passed by through the cover of the trees after a successful hunt, his own scent masked by the carcasses of his prey.

He’d never been able to explain the inexplicable pull toward you that had grasped him unrelentingly until he’d managed to catch sight or smell of you to, nor had it made sense to him why he’d wanted to express himself to you so much so that he’d danced in effort to satisfy the need to bask in the warmth of your intrigued gaze.

Nothing has ever quite compared to the way that his blood races when you so much as glance at him now that he thinks on it and gods, he longs for you to welcome him now as eagerly as you had in the supposed safety of dreams. Even now the inebriating scent of you coils around him insistently as it begs for him to come closer to the source of his desires he’s yearned for years.

It’s not as easy for you to accept this, though, no matter how much you want to. Gods, do you want to.

In light of the bright, flashing signs that your wolf begs for you to heed, there’s a very critical and very crucial element that would immediately clear away the lingering shadow of denial that this creature before you who looks to have been crafted by the gods is meant to be yours. Despite your purebred omegean blood that distinguishes you as the most desirable of candidates for alphas and betas alike in the rarity of such a pedigree amongst your dynamic, Jeon Jungkook could have any bitch in the pack he wished. There were many others who you believed looked better and gave back to the clan more than the likes of you.

And in the self-consciousness that shackles you, you had not breathed through your nose ever since he’d brought himself near to you.

You know that the moment that you do, there will be no question that he is truly the alpha from your dreams who boldly claims to be your mate, for the intoxicating scent of him that had incensed itself within you was deliciously unforgettable in the way it had had the power to have you glistening with slick upon a single whiff. Because of that, there is a reason that you are actively choosing not to use your olfactory sense around him.

Only within the old tales written in the aged tomes of the compound’s archives which are guarded by the elders has there been recollections of the legendary lupi antiquis, who were the progenitors of the werewolf race. These creatures were incarnations of nature manifested into the bodies of wolves that were guided by the moon’s phases in the celestial body’s wish to bring life to the earth in the decay of other mythical creatures who had grown sad and lifeless without a companion in the rarity of which they’d roamed.

To ensure the strongest and most virile of the moon’s creations found a partner that would belong and be designed solely for them, it was said that the celestial body preselected the companion that would remain loyal to them through the entirety of their life by choosing for them a soulmate.

The word has always been held close your heart in the romantic radiance of it, for it had been said that a bond unlike any other in the lupine world burgeoned inside two destined mates of the moon’s selection among the abilities that allow such a pair to share thoughts and feelings with one another telepathically across insurmountable distances in addition to each wolf becoming stronger where the alpha would gain physical strength while the omega would be granted bolstered mental fortitude.

Beyond that, the wolf’s kiss could cure their mate of any ailment or injury in the profound love that the very essences of each kindred spirit were vested with as they longed ardently to remain together forever and always.

As time had passed, the word had begun to become diluted in the diminished occurrences with which it happened as more and more werewolves began to populate and once pure bloodlines became soured by excessive mating between different partners in the uncontrollable ruts and heats that drove them to couple with any wolf in the vicinity under the influence purely of instinct to breed and be bred.

Many lives had been lost during the violent, territorial battles over both alphas and omegas for a partner that often ended in death to one or both participants, the lessons of the past yielding guidance to the future generation in the written accounts left behind so that the fledgling pups that came after would not suffer as the earlier wolves had.

It is why your pack has such defined rules now upon the presentation or period of peak maturity for omegas in particular because they have always been the desired mates of alphas.

It is also how the entire compound knows when the last happening of two soulmates was, which had been a couple thousand years ago when the moon had aligned with the rest of the planetary bodies in the meticulously structured history courses that all maturing wolves are mandated to take and in the stories that are told by the elders over annual bonfires celebrating the bonding between two wolves.

Perhaps it is all of these reasons that have every wolf in your pack still able to discern and recognize the defined series of circumstances that present themselves between two lupine creatures fated to be each other’s soulmate.

The first is the gift of sight, which allows each lupine creature to see the eyes of their mate. The second is the gift of olfaction, which is the amalgamation of scents naturally produced from the scent gland of each wolf that have the ability to draw the undivided attention of their destined other so temptingly that it causes sudden production of either slick for omegas and pre-ejaculative fluid for alphas. In addition, this one is powerful enough that it acts an effluvious vice that impulses each lupine creature in how desirously their mate can waft into and draw out their counterpart’s instincts.

Each are granted only after the moon lights a path for them both to meet, but that hadn’t happened for you, had it? After all, it’s not like the stream of dreams every night after the last eclipse could have-

Your eyes widen bigger than the largest star as your cheeks color themselves redder than a ruby in mortification as the links join together and that has the alpha relishing in the adorable sight of you as he croons, “There it is, pretty. I knew you would come around soon enough,” he fixes his sight on the edge of a reddened petal he’d caused to fall over your skin in your supposed fantasy that peeks out from under the edge of your silken choker that he wishes he could tear off of you and add more of his marks to as he continues, “Did you think I would allow my mate to suffer with how desperately you whined and how loudly you howled for me?”

You fumble for words in the embarrassment that soaks you as you try to speak past a mouth that is dryer than the desert while you shake your head like you’re in a daze and you might as well be in how incapable you are of rationalizing at this point.

“This can’t be… it can’t be possible.” You whisper quietly as if thinking aloud and Jungkook finds that he appreciates the sound of you, that he is pleased in how you’ve finally chosen to use that cute voice of yours and let him into your thoughts.

The alpha coos, “Oh, my pretty omega, but it can,” he takes one calculated step closer, “Come on, little omega, smell me. Do not think that I have not caught on to the fact that you haven’t used your nose in your efforts to deny this, to deny me.” His honeyed voice slathers itself over you, as you melt under its thickness, “You asked your alpha to come find you and I have, pretty. Now, it’s time for you to do the same. Scent me and see that I am the one the moon has promised you to, that I am the alpha you belong to.”

He delivers his words to you in the form of a command as he takes another step toward you only to have your heart beat faster against your ribcage, your wolf lowering its head in submission as you try to make yourself smaller under his searing, prompting gaze and the longer that you dangerously surrender yourself to those golden irises that are still speckled with the silver that mirrors your own, your resistance cracks and folds gradually under his increasingly prominent pressure. It can only be compacted and compressed so much until nothing remains and, unable to disobey his directive, you swallow a thick lump of nervousness down your throat before clearing it as he looks on expectantly.

His avid attention sears into you doggedly and, under its power, your omega blood boils in need to heed him and, purely driven by your body’s desideratum to yield to him without the input of any cognizant thought, your hand finds itself slowly and tentatively lifting toward the exposed neck that he has bared torturously against the obscenely opened shirt. The fluttery wings of anticipation flap animatedly within you as the alpha watches with intrigue, allowing you to slowly near him.

Your fingers do not stall as they ghost over the notch between his collarbones as you dare to allow yourself to touch the skin that tries to reach for you in the waves of heat that roll off of him and when you turn your hand so that the soft underside of your wrist just barely manages to rub against his sensitive scent gland that all but strains and pulses against you, your breath hitches as a deep rumble of a growl tumbles from his throat in response.

It is not a sound born of aggression, but of satisfaction that has your omega preening under its euphoniously low trill and when his fingers close around your forearm to possessively drag your radiocarpal joint back and forth over the intimate area that secretes pheromones wantonly for you, your wolf sings at his hot touch, at the way that his fingers curl deliciously over your delicate skin.

The whole time, his irises flash tellingly in gratification that has you helplessly falling for the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters as he greedily drinks in the way your mouth has parted dazedly while he coats himself in your own essence that is produced richly from the glands in your wrist.

The scent glands of the neck were far stronger, far more potent, but right now, he will take from you what you decide to give. There will be time for more later, he is sure.

Your delicious scent is quick to consume him, the sound that drips from his lips deepening in pitch as your aroma drapes itself over him in its entirety before sinking into his very pores until he’s momentarily drunk off you, his pupils enlarging until there is only you.

“Gods,” he utters, “you smell like sin, pretty. You’re like a fucking aphrodisiac in how you tempt me.” Somewhere in his pants, his cock twitches to life at the mere scent of you as your carnal essence awakens something far too primal within him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, your wolf baying in delight at his admission and wantful actions.

In response to him, your own irises dilate as your heart pangs wildly against your chest, breath a hard companion to come by in his overbearingly alluring presence that seeks your own in the warmth of his skin that reaches longingly for you.

You can’t begin to rationalize how long he slides your wrist sinfully against him as he makes a point of trailing your radiocarpal joint over the vast expanse of muscles that line his neck as they all but jump at your touch as the sound that tumbles from his lips darkens impossibly more only to draw out a whine from you. Minutes or hours could have passed since this started, but you have no care in the world because of how caught you are under his simmering stare.

Once he’s secure in the knowledge that succulent scent of you has smeared him to the point of no return, that’s when he pulls your hand back until he holds it under your nostrils while his mouth waters at the delectable waft of you through his own that sets his very blood on fire.

His fingers sink wonderfully into your skin and it is positively unholy in how his heat permeates you until you’re filled gloriously with it he orders, “Go on now, my pretty omega. Breathe me in until every last doubt is torn from you and all you can think about is me,” his breath is hot against your cheek as he inches impossibly closer in the need to be impossibly closer to you as you shakily exhale while he finishes, “Drink me in until this little body of yours is sated in the sweet recognition of the alpha that owns it.”

His words settle viscously over you and in the command of the alpha that you are helpless to resist with your omegean blood, you do. You did not want to fight this, did not want to fight him. It went against your baser instincts and nature to do so. It was all just your self-consciousness that had bound you back and away from him, but under his attention that does not waver in the imposing neediness of it that glints with a savage saturation dripping from his very being, you can’t withstand it. So, you obey.

The change is immediate.

Upon the first whiff of him that drizzles up through your nostrils to trickle fluidly like that of a delicious philter through you, your every cell is flooded with stimulation that is guided by the heady essence that is decidedly and uniquely him. He tastes of newly dewed grasses that are accented by an earthly underlayer and somehow it is all bolstered by the overwhelmingly delicious amalgamation of blooming gardenia, black vanilla and freshly matured pear.

A sudden deposit of slick finds itself between your folds that glisten to life and it earns a sharp growl from him as he brings one lip between his teeth.

He reeks of pungently dangerous desire that beckons your very being and your eyes roll to the back of your head at in its insistent invitation as he fills you with his quintessence and soon your body can no longer bear your weight in the way that his strong incense curls around you to have your limbs grow weak under its inexorable consummation of you.

Your weakly whisper, “Alpha…my alpha,” the concession quick to run through your veins as you yield to him.

Your legs begin to tremble precariously with each breath you take in effort to collect as much of him as you can, the familiar smell exactly alike to that of the one belonging to the wolf from your dreams as understanding and recognition saturate your being.

“Omega,” Jungkook breathes, satisfaction washing over him as he watches your body react so affectedly to him.

And when your body is no longer able to bear your weight in how quickly the alpha has drawn away their strength through his own power, he is there.

At the same time that your head falls back and your sense of equilibrium leaves you through numbed legs, one of his large hands finds its place along your nape while one muscled arm wraps around your back to pull you against the built planes of an aureate chest as he croons, “My beautiful omega. You’ve acknowledged me at long last. Such a good girl for me, you are,” he angles his head low so that his heated breath once more billows against you, “I’m going to take you with me to the forest now, pretty. Once we’re there, you’re going to watch me shift so that I can hunt just for you. When I return,” his pink tongue darts outward to wet his lips as his gaze surges with hunger, “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

Your breath stutters at that and when his arms dip to collect you like his bride as he tucks you against the muscled chest that you subconsciously lean into you in the safety that pours from him that your wolf relishes in. Through it all, you can only barely utter, “As you wish, alpha.”

As he holds you close, you nuzzle your alpha and there’s a high-pitched, satisfied purr that easily cascades through your throat in the warmth and security that his able body offers. You care not how far your song of satisfaction is carried in the winds that swell against you only to roll tauntingly over all the alphas in the distance that Jungkook is in charge of as the pack alpha’s son who is meant to one day lead the compound.

All that matters is that you’ve found your alpha and that he, in turn, has found you.

High in the sky, the moon hides behind the awakening sun as golden rays begin to filter searchingly through the thick underbrush of the forest lining the horizon as far as the eye can see.

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts abo #bts #jungkook #dom!jungkook #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #werewolf jungkook #jungkook hot #soulmate au

1K notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 2 years

Note

i like Spinner however sometimes i think he hasn’t done anything because he still is following other people instead of thinking for him self. he cares for shigaraki on a personal level but he doesn’t get the hand makes his trauma worse and he does everything afo tells him. it feel like he is……spinning…. in circles with no development

Well, not to be a defensive Spinner stan here or anything, but I certainly wouldn’t say he’s had no development. In both senses people use the word, I think he’s developed plenty. We’ve seen enough of his backstory and his internality to have an idea of what makes him tick, so in that sense he is developed as a character; we’ve also watched him do a lot of personal reflection and clarification of his goals, moving from prickly Stain fanboy to Shigaraki’s closest friend and ally, so in that sense he has developed as a character.

I don’t think that him being a follower by nature means he hasn’t “done anything.” By simple math, more people in this world are followers than they are leaders. Being a follower doesn’t de facto mean someone has (to use Dabi’s words) stopped thinking for themselves, though; people can make considered, rational decisions about the kinds of leaders they want to follow and support. That’s what you do every time you vote, after all!* That goes double for people who are playing on ronin archetypes like Spinner.

That said, Spinner did, in Chapter 341, make a conscious decision to put aside his doubts and reservations, explicitly choosing to stop “thinking it over.” So, yeah, he’s definitely not thinking for himself right now, and that’s obviously a thing that needs to change. But I think what that’s going to look like is not suddenly realizing he needs to be thinking about The Good Of Heteromorph Kind and finding some grand cause for himself, but rather realizing that Shigaraki’s path right now is ultimately self-destructive—that the image of a barren horizon may have some stark, apocalyptic beauty to it, but it’s not the kind of world he and Shigaraki can live in.

(I mean, there’d be no power running; they couldn’t even play video games.)

Spinner’s cause doesn’t have to be grand; making a difference for one person makes you, in that person’s eyes, a hero. Spinner just needs to realize that on their current trajectory, no matter who wins, Shigaraki is going to lose. And I certainly hope he’ll get there yet.

Right now, though, he's stuck with AFO, and unless they’re a defiant hero okay with getting killed and/or locked up in vaults long term, no one who’s stuck in close contact with AFO is not doing whatever he tells them; that’s just basic self-preservation. Dabi has been impatient to go toy with Endeavor more, but he still sat in that cave and listened to AFO ramble on with literal toe-tapping impatience because trying to run off and do something AFO didn’t want him to do yet was just—not a viable tactic. I’m sure Skeptic would absolutely love to be anywhere else right now, but the Search+Warp quirk combination makes it very difficult to walk away if AFO doesn’t want you to.

Like, yes, AFO is an indulgent evil overlord at times, letting Toga wander off to check on her family home. Yes, he says that Spinner is unlike “young Touya and the others” for having devoted himself to AFO’s guard, but I’ve always taken that to mean that AFO is a) perfectly happy to let people have evil motivations that don’t revolve around him so long as they’re not acting against his wishes and do what he wants them to when it counts and b) an egomaniac who is not distinguishing between “guarding me,” “guarding my new vessel,” and “guarding Shigaraki.”.

I don’t think Spinner “doing everything AFO tells him” was in itself a sign he wasn’t thinking for himself, just a sign that he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place and his loyalty to Shigaraki—at least until such time as he realizes that “helping Shigaraki” is likely going to require going against Shigaraki’s current wishes—makes him an easy person for AFO to order around.

If anything, him being wherever he is now—that is, very conspicuously not in the army that just got warped in—will hopefully give him some space to clear his head and start to realize what he needs to do to move forward. But that, too, will likely take some outside intervention, because that's what so many villains are: people who have gotten into really bad situations because no one ever stopped to reach out a hand to them except other villains.

If Spinner rebelled against AFO in the cave, what would have happened to him? Could he count on Shigaraki shaking whatever was going on in his head to help him? Or would that just haven been making himself into a hostage to be used against Shigaraki?

We're clearly headed to a place where Shigaraki has to be saved by heroes, and I think Spinner will play a hand in bridging that gap, but that's in the future: given what Spinner knows about heroes right now, why would he ever even think of asking them for help? They killed Twice; they tried to kill Shigaraki numerous times in Jakku; even if they don't kill Shigaraki, they're just going to throw him and all the rest of the people who matter to Spinner in jail for the rest of their lives, and not a nice jail where they get therapy for their issues, either, but rather some hole like Tartarus, specifically designed to be a living hell.

Like the rest of the League, Spinner has no reason to believe in heroes, so he just continues down the villain's path because he doesn't see a way off of it. That, I think, is something heroes have to take the initiative to change, not something to blame Spinner for.

Thanks for the ask, anon! I wish the both of us luck with being patient while we wait to see where Spinner's arc is going!

---

* Though, of course, that can just as easily take people into the binaries of Supporting My Team.

#bnha #bnha spinner #iguchi shuuichi #bnha endgame #stillness answers

26 notes · View notes