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deliciousangelfestival · 2 days

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Nothing Has Changed - 2

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Chp 1, Chp 2 ,-

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

The one person who turned your school life into a nightmare will take over your father's business.

You never had any interest in following in your father's footsteps. Tom had told you from the beginning that you weren't fit for this work. And you hated the business; you wanted to burn it to the ground.

Even though you had never come home for several years, you kept sending your father monthly money. That money was enough for him to move and buy a new house in a big city. Last Christmas, you called your father and told him to sell the house, but he said nothing.

Something never changed: your father would put work before his own happiness.

Now you know why he didn’t want to sell the house. Because he had found someone to continue the business. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky is the popular kid from the wealthiest family in town. Everywhere he went, people followed him. His entourage echoed his every move.

When Bucky said something about you, his followers echoed his sentiments. If Bucky said A, his entourage would cover B to Z, and he never stopped them.

You once thought that he looked down on you because he was rich. But after moving to the city with Ransom and meeting many influential and wealthy people in the business world, you realize that Barnes' fortune was nothing compared to the 0.1%.

Now, you see him as just a regular person.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "This is a big mistake. I shouldn't have come back here." You walked past them, not even glancing in Bucky's direction, and headed upstairs to grab your things.

Tom followed after you. “Y/N, please, we can talk about this. I didn’t know how to tell you.” He knew he had been an absent father. After you left for college, your relationship worsened.

You only called him on holiday, and he was afraid to call you first. He didn't know how to start the conversation when he had the chance to talk.

You stayed silent, slinging your bag over your shoulder and holding your laptop.

“Where are you going to stay?” Tom asked, desperation in his voice. “From what you told me, you don’t have much cash.”

He was right. Your bank account was blocked. But you still had some cash and your Rolex, which you could pawn. You glanced at your watch as you headed down the stairs.

Distracted, you missed the last step and started to fall. “Ahh!”

You braced for the impact, but instead, you hit something solid.

“Did you hurt your foot?” Bucky asked, holding you steady. His voice was worried. He had been about to leave, not wanting to cause more conflict between you and your father.

You looked at his face, searching for the smug expression he always wore when he tormented you with his “silly pranks.”

Quickly, you pulled away from his grasp. You didn’t want to be near or share the same air with him.

You walked past him, treating him like he didn’t exist. Before opening the door, you grabbed an umbrella—a habit of always being prepared.

As you opened the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, turned around, and saw Bucky stopping you.

“Please, listen to your father first,” Bucky said softly, sounding anxious. Your father stood at the top of the stairs, speechless.

At this moment, you felt like an outsider. They seemed more like father and son than you and Tom ever had.

You pushed Bucky's hand off your shoulder. "Keep your hands off of me!" Your voice was filled with years of pent-up anger and pain, each word like a knife stabbing into Bucky.

You slammed the door and stormed off, your heart pounding with a mix of rage and betrayal.

Back at the house, Bucky and Tom stood staring at the closed door.

Tom sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Give her a moment. She's been through a lot."

Bucky, still shaken, asked softly, "What happened to her?"

⌚

At the pawn shop, you tapped your fingers anxiously on the glass counter, awaiting Mr. Rogers' appraisal of your Rolex watch. His gaze met yours, and he inquired, "Do you know how much it's worth?"

You nodded, a sense of unease creeping over you. "I bought it three years ago for around $25,000. With the current market price, and since I didn’t bring the box and certificate, the price will be lower. I would say it’s around $8,000."

Mr. Rogers's eyes widened in surprise at your precise evaluation. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Ahem, you're right. And because you’re Tom’s daughter, I will give you that price."

You quietly sighed. You had just arrived at one shop, and he already knew you. But what could you do? This was the only pawn shop open this morning.

"Wait a second, I'll grab the money for you," Mr. Rogers announced before disappearing into the back room.

Taking a seat, you fidgeted with your phone, searching for the nearest hotel or motel.

Just as you began to scroll, your phone rang. It was Maya, your lawyer. You had chosen to work with her because she was your assistant's friend. Money was tight, so you couldn't afford a well-known lawyer.

“Hello?” you answered the call.

“Hi, are you alright? You have arrived in your hometown?” Maya asked.

“Yes, I have. By the way, is there any progress?” you inquired.

“Yes. They already looked through it. I guess you could hear good news in 3 days,” Maya replied.

You sighed in relief. “I’m glad. Thank you.”

After a brief conversation with Maya, you ended the call. Then you heard someone clear their throat.

“Ahem.”

You glanced up to see that the person behind the counter was no longer Mr. Rogers but his son, Steve Rogers, who was also Bucky’s friend.

Back then, Steve didn’t say anything when you were made fun of. But he didn’t do anything to stop the silly pranks either. So his name was also written in your black book.

But now you weren’t the same person anymore. You were a 'female Midas'. You were supposed to be confident. Steve used to look at you as if you were invisible. Now you should do the same.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him. There was a stack of cash, probably $9,000, in front of you. Mr. Rogers was quite a generous man.

You picked up the money and stuffed it into your bag. It was enough to live here for 3 days before you went back to the city.

Steve noticed that you didn’t even look at him. He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while. Are you staying?”

You continued to ignore him. As you exited the door, you clapped your hands, making Steve jump. Then you muttered, “Oh, it’s just a fly,” as you walked away.

🏨

You left the pawn shop and glanced back at your phone to find a cheap hotel or motel nearby. As you walked, sweat poured down your back, making you feel uncomfortably sticky. It was the most strenuous workout you had in a while, just trying to find a place to rest.

Eventually, you stumbled upon an interesting hotel on the booking app. The hotel was located inside a big building that sold outdoor equipment. It was cheap and conveniently close to your location.

Sweat dripping down your forehead, you kept walking until you finally reached the building. You were impressed by the natural surroundings, with shops surrounded by nature. The building was named Bronze Adventure Gear.

Upon entering, you were greeted by an employee.

“Welcome to Bronze Adventure Gear. How can we help you?” they asked.

You were taken aback by their energy; it was still 10 a.m., and they were already bustling with customers.

“I’m here for the hotel,” you replied. “I know it’s early, but I just need a place to rest.”

“No worries. It’s off-season, and there are many empty rooms. We’ll guide you to the receptionist,” they said, leading you further into the building.

Grateful for the hospitality, you thanked them as they left you at the receptionist.

The hotel was called Bronze Lodge.

“We’ll leave you to our friend,” the employee said before departing.

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you tapped the reception table and waited.

“Welcome to the Bronze Lodge. How can I help you?” a friendly female voice greeted you. However, to your ears, it sounded like venom. It was Natasha Romanoff, the popular girl in town.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a sensation far different from when you had encountered Bucky and Steve again.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Natasha's voice cut through the air.

You tried to compose yourself. “Yup.”

“Goodness. It’s been a long time. And you're so beautiful. Ah, where are my manners? Are you staying at this hotel?” Natasha wore her trademark smile—the same one you hated seeing back in school, where her girl gang would always talk behind your back.

"You know what-?" You were about to say, but then second thoughts about leaving crossed your mind.

That's when you heard the most enormous thunderclap of your life.

“Are you surprised? The weather is quite unpredictable,” Natasha remarked casually.

She glanced at your belongings. “Oh, and you brought your yellow umbrella. Such a nostalgic touch. You never changed,” she continued, her words like needles pricking at your skin.

You clenched your fists, your frustration bubbling up inside you.

“You’re lucky. There’s a room ready for you. Here’s the key. I hope you enjoy staying with us,” Natasha said, offering you the card key with a sweet smile.

You snatched the key from her hand. “I’ll try.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to the elevator. As you left, Natasha's smile faltered, and she quickly grabbed her phone to make a call. “You won’t believe who checked into the hotel today,” she said eagerly.

*********

The moment you entered the hotel room, you threw yourself onto the bed, exhausted. You turned around and stared at the ceiling.

The rain and thunder outside seemed oblivious to your desire for peace. You starting to regret coming back here.

Closing your eyes, you tried to ease your racing mind. But four hours later, what was meant to be a short nap turned into a longer one.

'Knock. Knock.'

You were jolted awake by the sound of someone knocking at your door. Lazily, you left the bed and peered through the peephole, wondering who it could be since you hadn't requested anything.

You gasped when you saw Bucky standing outside. What on earth did he want? Wasn't it enough that you had already encountered him and his friends earlier today?

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before opening the door.

When you did, you remained silent, not wanting to converse with him.

Bucky said, "Tom is looking for you."

"I see. Thanks for the info," you replied, moving to close the door, but he stopped it.

"What do you want?" you sighed in frustration.

"You have to talk to him," Bucky insisted.

Closing your eyes, you responded icily, "I'll talk to him when I'm ready. But I don't need you hovering around. I certainly don't want to see your face."

His expression seemed to reflect grief when you said that, though you dismissed it as your own emotions. Why would he feel guilty towards you?

"And how did you manage to find me?" you asked.

"It’s easy," Bucky replied nonchalantly, "since my family owns this business. I can access anything I want, including information about guests staying here."

There it was, the smug face finally making its appearance, accompanied by that cocky explanation.

You gritted your teeth. Somehow, the idea of being in prison didn't seem so bad anymore.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 days

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 114

Part 1 Part 113

It’s fully dark by the time they trundle into the trailer park. The sceneries nostalgic, almost. Steve at his side, his feet aching from too long upright, not another soul in sight. There’s no ash floating in the air, and no vines squirming on the ground, and the sky’s not an ominous red.

Will he ever be able to walk down this familiar stretch of street without thinking of that time?

He almost hopes not. Without the Upside-Down, when he and Steve ever come together like this?

Maybe it’s stupid, but he wants to hold onto those memories just as much as this one. They’re what got him here, holding Steve Harrington’s hand, floating past cloud nine and straight into the stratosphere.

His glasses are chock full of roses.

It’s a tragedy that he has to drop Steve’s hand to open and unlock the door, but he makes do.

Wayne’s on his recliner when they stumble through the door, holding a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He glances away from the screen, double takes, then stares back, eyeing them both up and down with an eyebrow raised.

He takes a long, loud sip from his beer, then asks, “you boys have a fun night?”

Eddie glances at Steve, and it’s only then that he notices how disheveled they both must look. Steve’s lips are still swollen, and his hair’s fucked beyond repair. Steve’s eying Eddie in kind, making those same damning connections.

He looks worried around the edges, though, so Eddie does what he’s always done best: put on a show.

He turns to Wayne, hands planted on his hips and says, “Wayne, I’ve got something to tell you.” He reaches out, linking his hand with Steve’s once more. “I’m gay.”

Wayne snorts, coughing on his beer. It must burn because his eyes water as he gasps out, “you play too much, boy.” He wipes the overflow from his chin, glaring up at Eddie. “You finally figure your shit out?”

Eddie beams, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Stevie here figured it out for me.”

Wayne looks between them for a few seconds more before shrugging disinterestedly, says a flippant, “he’s my favorite son for a reason,” and then just turns back to the TV to continue flicking through channels.

And that’s it. That was all she wrote, and all that. The world just, keeps turning.

“Should we tell anyone?” Steve asks that night, curled up into his side the way he always is. “Besides Will?”

He pulls Steve closer, the fondness in his chest expanding to the point of pain. Will, who is a part of their fucked up little trio. Of course, they’ll tell him.

It might even help him come to terms with some things that were hard won, brutal battles for Eddie when he was Will’s age. Give the kid a little hope, and all that. Hope that there are partners better out there than Mike Wheeler, the turd.

Eddie hums, skimming his fingers up and down Steve’s arm. “Well, Wayne figured it out the minute he looked at us, that’s one down.” He holds up one finger before bringing it back to Steve’s arm and tapping it against it. “You told Carol, so that adds in her and Barb.” Fingers two and three, tap, tap.

“Jeff?”

“Oh, definitely Jeff.” Eddie raises a fourth finger, taps it once before unlocking his thumb so he can clutch Steve’s hand. He pulls it up to his own chest, pressing it to the beating of his heart. “He wants me to tell him about the Upside-Down.”

Steve’s quiet, and it’s too dark to read his face no matter how hard Eddie strains his eyes.

“Do you think I should?”

Steve sighs, digging his pointy chin into Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t know, man.”

“Man,” Eddie cuts in, mockingly. “Your tongue was in my mouth like, ten minutes ago.”

Eddie’s body shakes with Steve’s quiet laughter. “Fine, whatever,” he huffs. “It’s not up to me, Loverboy.”

The nicknames got that same mocking edge Eddie himself had used. It still makes his heartbeat stutter in his chest.

“But I’m not sure this is a situation where not knowing would help them?” he continues, voice lilting up at the end like it’s a question. “I mean, it didn’t help us.”

Eddie sighs, letting himself melt into the springy mattress. Look at all of them. They’d left Carol in the dark, and she’d crawled her way into the inner circle by her hell-beast talons.

Stumbling around in the dark never helped anyone.

“I’ll think about it,” Eddie says, already knowing that its too late. The worm’s wriggled its way into his brain and made a home there.

But there’s an order to these things, and Will comes first, always. They clamber into Eddie’s van in the morning, ready to enjoy whatever somehow overcooked and overcooked concoction Mama Byers has made for breakfast.

Jonathan opens the door before they’re even out of the van. He leans against the door jam, crossing his arms and glaring hatefully out at them, still in his raggedy pajama pants.

“Johnny Boy!” Eddie calls, beaming as he bounds up to him, shoving past him to come into the house, uninvited. “You’re looking mighty cheerful this morning.”

“Sorry, I don’t have a cheerful face on for the early-morning uninvited guests,” he grumbles, stepping out of the way and letting Steve through with much less ire.

Eddie can’t blame him. Steve’s in his stupid yellow sweater looking soft and warm in the November air. Eddie can’t compete with that, doesn’t even want to.

“Is Will up?” Steve asks, in a far more appropriate volume for the early morning.

Jonathan gestures toward the back of the house before stumbling over to the couch and sinking into it.

Mama Byers isn’t anywhere in sight, and the house is quiet enough that their voices may carry. Eddie’s not worried. These people are his family, and more importantly, they’re Will’s.

If the wall’s have got ears, he couldn’t pick anyone better to be listening. He’d bare any bit of himself here, if Will needs him to.

Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls him along toward Will’s bedroom. It’s time to get this show on the road.

Part 115

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #Eddie just thinks he's sooo sooo funny lol this is what he's like when too happy. just Relentless

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cripplecharacters · 2 days

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Hello! I have a question that is about nerve issues, but falls under the general topic of chronic pain.

I have a character who plays the bass guitar. She has obtained a lot of nerve damage, especially in hands and arms, while working in difficult conditions. Playing the bass can be painful for her on most days, impossible on some, because of the way the instrument is held (and the repetitive fine motor movements).

I am worried about accidentally presenting this as a glorification of pushing through pain, or accidentally making it seem like yet another plot saying, "Isn't it so tragic how this disabled person can no longer do things they enjoy?". Do you have any advice on avoiding this?

There is some context I think may be important here. The character's nerve pain is based on my own, but to a lesser degree (I have had to give up playing all musical instruments, longhand writing, drawing).

I'm asking this question, because, to be honest, I completely avoid talking about things I used to do but now cannot, like the things I listed above. This is because I worry people will just think of me as "ruined" or "a tragedy". (This is what has happened when I talk about it.) I don't want this insecurity to bleed into the way I write the character, because what I really want to do is just write a character who is disabled in the way I am.

I apologize if this is a bad question, or if this is not fitting with the rules. Thank you very much for reading this!

Hello,

From what you've told me, I don't think you have anything to worry about. A lot of people will continue to do things they love even with our disabilities making it hard to do them the same way we once did. It's just one of the character's passions, something she enjoys, she just has something that impacts how long she can play before needing to take a break. There's no problem there. I still draw because I like to, dyspraxia doesn't matter beyond putting a limit on how much I can do in one sitting.

Also, you're writing about your own experiences. Maybe you've got different reasons, but it sounds to me like you're basically writing about a character like you who's having experiences where her disability impacts her hobbies. It's completely fine for you to do that, full stop.

I really like this premise, and I think you're going to do a great job with it.

Mod Aaron

#mod aaron #chronic pain representation #acquired disability #anonymous

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super-paper · 3 days

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Like I feel like 90% of my problems with 423 (Izuku) could have easily been fixed if Hori had actually stayed true to Izuku's character as someone driven by his empathy for others. Naturally I would have still been extremely upset with Tenko's death, yeah, but I think I would have at least been able to gradually process it and eventually accept it if Hori had actually depicted Izuku as like... actually reacting to the fact that he's killing Tenko and actually attempting to grapple with the weight of taking his life. Any reaction that might come after this chapter is simply too late to undo the damage.

Blood+ is an excellent example of a well done "I had no choice but to kill you" villain death: In this series, The hero (Saya) is ultimately forced to fight and kill her villain (Diva), but the core of her character-- her kindness-- is never sacrificed. It's enhanced by the tragedy of it all, of her being forced to end a life when she sincerely didn't want to. Even though Diva did terrible and unforgivable things, the first thing Saya does when she sees her crumbling is to rush forward and comfort her despite her own injuries, and to express intense anguish over not being able to help her. This cements why Saya is the hero of this story. I haven't watched Blood+ in over ten years, but the final moment between these two is something that has stuck with me all this time-- this is how you write a powerful ending between your kind/empathetic MC and the villain they were ultimately forced to kill.

Comparatively, everything about Izuku and Tenko's resolution feels completely numb. Izuku's lackluster nonreaction to everything he learned about Tenko in the vestige world. His complete lack of distress when Tenko's abuser swallowed him up and took over his body again. Him not expressing any concern for Tenko's safety once AFO resurfaced. Him continuing to beat on Tenko's body as it crumbled without any internal conflict or hesitation.

All of it sacrifices the very foundation of Izuku's character-- him being moved to act out of EMPATHY for others, not out of a desire to simply "beat the villain". The climax of Izuku's long awaited "rising" chapter is ultimately about him punching someone rather than saving someone, which also betrays the core of his character (yes, it's also about how he inspires others by doing his best but can you honestly say him rushing forward to punch TomurAFO to death was "doing his best as a hero". What was supposed to be the cumulation of Izuku's arc ends up being completely surface level/lacking sincerity and instead reads like Hori is just going through the motions).

The boy from chapter 1 whose body moved on its own after seeing someone in pain was ultimately more heroic than the boy from chapter 423, and that's one of the many reasons why people should be upset with this chapter and what it's done to Izuku's character/arc.

#among the multitude of other bad things about it #mha spoilers #negativity/#sophie.txt #tenko dying still absolutely wrecks the series themes even in a parallel world where Izuku did have an actual reaction 2 having to kill him #mha 423 #shimura tenko #shigaraki tomura

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whencyclopedia · 3 days

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Ariadne

Ariadne is a figure in Greek mythology, best known for her role in helping Theseus to defeat the monstrous half-man half-bull Minotaur, her half-brother, and escape the Labyrinth, the torturous maze beneath the palace of Knossos in Crete, ordered to be built by Ariadne's father, King Minos.

Origins & Family

Ariadne comes from a powerful family in Greek mythology. Her mother is Pasiphae, daughter of the sun-god, Helios and her father is King Minos of Crete. The women of the family play significant roles in many important myths. Ariadne's aunt is Circe, the witch who turns Odysseus' men into swine in Homer's Odyssey. Her cousin is Medea, whose story mirrors Ariadne's in some ways. Like Ariadne, Medea enables a hero to accomplish his legendary feats – in her case, she gives Jason and the Argonauts a magical salve and instructions so that they can steal the Golden Fleece from her father Aeëtes of Colchis – and is later deserted by him.

Ariadne's sister, Phaedra, grows up to marry Theseus later in life, but she falls in love with his son Hippolytus and so sets off a chain of tragic events which lead to Theseus bringing about the death of his own son in the Greek tragedy Hippolytus by Euripides.

The story of Ariadne's mother is perhaps the strangest and most shocking of all. When Ariadne's father, King Minos, offends the sea god Poseidon by refusing to sacrifice a beautiful white bull to the god, Poseidon punishes him by causing his wife, Pasiphae, to fall in love with the animal. Pasiphae entreats the master craftsman Daedalus to carve a realistic wooden cow in which she can hide to seduce the bull. The product of this union is the Minotaur, a monster with the body of a man but the head of a bull and an insatiable appetite for human flesh. The creature is Ariadne's half-brother and is consigned by her father to the dark depth of the Labyrinth from which it can never escape.

Author Promotion

#History #Ariadne #Artemis #Athenian #WHE #[#]

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nunalastor · 2 days

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Alastor is Sparda, Devil May Cry

Lilith had heard about the rumors about the demon knight Sparda and how he turned on his own kind. So she spied of him and realized, this demon was not as heroic as the stories make him out to be. He did save humanity and continued to fight demons bent on destroying humanity, but for the sake for his own benefit. Lilith concluded that he would be a useful tool for her in the future, but he met a human woman. The most beautiful mortal she has ever laid eyes on.

Eva, a pretty name for such a lovely human. Lilith was tempted to snatch the woman for herself; Lucifer would understand. Besides, once Charlie was born, their marriage began to dissolve and the love they had for each other wasn’t the same as before. However, Eva had already made a family with the demon and it looks like she’s not ready to leave him anytime soon. Lilith would just watch them from afar and wish she was in Sparta’s place. Then tragedy struck the family, Lilith blamed herself as much as she blamed Sparda for Eva’s death. When it happened, Lilith was caught up with negotiations concerning the exterminations, but it would go on deaf ears and when she went to see the Sparda family; watching them had become a comfort for her, she was presented of a scene of fire and Eva’s death. Where was Eva’s husband? Why didn’t he protect her? Who was responsible?

She would soon get her answer was Sparda fell into her domain. Lilith wanted to tear this wretched demon’s soul apart but after learning that he tried to avenge Eva, but lacked the power and he was hurting just as much as Lilith, much more because he also lost his twin sons. So as an act of both compassion and punishment, Lilith made a deal with Sparda to erase the memories of the past and she would keep his soul. The Dark Knight Sparda was dead and Alastor the Radio Demon was born.

That was many years ago and as Lilith starred at the waves, she spotted a figure also looking at the ocean. The queen of hell felt a familiar feeling in her heart when she recognized that mortal soul. When Eva died, her soul made it into heaven.

When Lilith visits the hotel

Alastor: I stole your husband

Lilith: And I stole your wife

Dante Vergil and Charlie: 😮 Mom!?

👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #devil may cry #nunalastor asks #i read this as alastor is a circada

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cera-writes · 1 day

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"Ma chère, you are mine." 🃏part Four

"Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light" - Oscar Wilde

[: Please, Just Breathe - Written By Wolves]

The sterile scent of disinfectant did little to mask the tremor in Gambit's hands. He traced a finger along the cool metal railing of your bed, his reflection distorted in the chrome. Days had bled into nights, a monotonous vigil punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines keeping you tethered to this world. You were lying motionless on a bed back at the X-Mansion.

Literal weeks had passed since the massacre of Genosha. The X-men had brought your body back, wondering whether just to bury what was left of you or wait for some sort of miracle.

"Hey there, ma chere," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the cool sheets. "Been a rough couple of weeks, that's for sure. Feels like the world decided to take a nosedive after you were savin' our collective butts."

A wry smile tugged at his lips, but it never reached his eyes. The memory of your sacrifice, of the raw power you wielded, sent a shiver down his spine. You were still here, thank heavens, but how much of you remained?

"Was I ever good enough for you, Eclipse?" the question tumbled out, a ragged whisper. "Did I ever truly measure up to the expectations of the woman who could snuff out the damn sun?"

He knew it was a stupid question. He loved you, fierce and unconditional, but the doubt gnawed at him nonetheless. Had he been just another adventure in the grand tapestry of your extraordinary life?

Taking a deep breath, he launched into a slow recount. "Genosha, chere... man, it was bad. A slaughterhouse. Rogue's beside herself, grief eatin' her alive. Went tearin' after answers, found nothin' but dead ends."

The weight of his unspoken words hung heavy in the air. A tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down his temple, landing with a soft plop on the back of your hand. The silence in the room was deafening, only replaced by the sound of the monitor as it beat to the slow, faint rhythmic pulse of your heart.

"Oh, darlin'," he rasped, his voice thick as he wiped at his tears. "Professor says you're stuck between worlds, a flicker of a flame in a hurricane."

A muscle in his jaw clenched. The diagnosis, delivered by a surprisingly alive Charles Xavier, was a gut punch. You, the woman who could snuff out the damn sun, were a wisp, a fading ember.

"Said it would take someone reachin' in, pullin' you back from the brink," Gambit continued, his voice tight. He knew what that meant. Someone had to wade into the void, navigate the chaotic remnants of your near-death experience, and somehow coax you back to the land of the living.

A wry smile, tinged with desperation, tugged at the corner of his lips. "Looks like it's time to try an' bring you back, wouldn't you say, ma chere?"

He knew the risks. The void could be a treacherous landscape, a swirling vortex of emotions and memories. But the thought of facing life without you was a desolate wasteland he couldn't bear to contemplate.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Professor X, ever-stoic despite the ordeal with the Shi'ar, sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the storm raging outside, mirroring the turmoil within.

"Professor," Gambit called out, his voice laced with a mixture of defiance and hope. "Any chance that fancy head of yours can cook up a way to get me there? Looks like I got a rescue mission on my hands."

Charles turned, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that only someone who had stared into the abyss himself could possess. A flicker of something akin to approval crossed his features.

"Gambit," he said, his voice raspy but firm, "you've always had a knack for the impossible. Perhaps this is just another challenge in your colorful repertoire."

"I think I'm done waitin' for any possibilty of her coming back from the dead, I gotta reach into her mind now, pull her back. No more waitin' around."

"You know the risks Gambit. And you're certain this is what you want to do?"

"Plus sûr que je ne l'ai jamais été," Remy nodded, placing his hand over your cold, unmoving one.

"Okay," Professor X nodded once, joining you at your bedside. "I'll have to link the two of you telepathically. It's a dangerous gamble but worth a fighting chance. There's also a chance you could be pulled into the darkness with her. But the bond between you should give you good luck in our efforts of bringing Eclipse back."

A surge of relief washed over Gambit, a lifeline thrown across the churning waters. He wouldn't be going in alone. With Xavier's help, he might just have a fighting chance of dragging you back from the brink.

"The odds always be in my favor, Professor." He smirked, a determined glint hardened his gaze.

He wouldn't let the darkness win. He wouldn't let you go. You'd been gone for far too long; longer than he'd had the patience of waiting for. He'd delve into the void, face whatever demons lurked within, and bring his sunshine back home.

Professor X cleared his mind, prompting Gambit to do the same. He pressed two fingers on each side of his temple and began the process of linking all three of your minds together in a psionic surge.

The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of colors, a chaotic kaleidoscope of emotions and memories. Gone was the sterile white room, replaced by a churning expanse of fragmented realities. Gambit plunged headfirst, the familiar tug of Professor Xavier's mental tether his only anchor in this tempestuous sea.

He fought against the relentless assault of disjointed images – flashes of the Genosha battle, the blinding brilliance of your eclipse power, the chilling emptiness of your still form. Each fragment ripped at him, threatening to pull him under in this maelstrom of your subconscious.

Then, he saw it. A lone figure, shrouded in shadow, standing on a precipice overlooking a vast emptiness. You. But this wasn't the Eclipse he knew. This figure seemed lost, a hollow shell consumed by an inky darkness that pulsed around her like a malevolent aura.

"Eclipse?" Gambit called out, his voice a threadbare whisper against the roaring storm.

The figure turned, her head a swirling mass of darkness where her face should have been. Tendrils of inky energy lashed out, coiling around his mental form, a chilling touch that sent shivers down his spine.

Fear gnawed at him, but the memory of your smile, the warmth of your hand in his, fueled his resolve. He wouldn't let the darkness win.

"Don't you give up on us, cher," he roared, channeling his Cajun charm into a psychic shout that echoed through the void. "We need you, the X-Men need you. Hell, the whole damn world needs you."

His words seemed to pierce the veil of darkness surrounding the figure. A flicker of recognition sparked in the empty void where her eyes should have been. A whisper, faint as a dying ember, reached his mind.

"Remy?"

Hope surged through him, a beacon in the storm. He pushed forward, his own memories forming a bridge across the void. He conjured moments of shared laughter, missions where the two of them had to work together to see it through, their own kind of connection that he didn't have with anyone else. Images flashed before the shadowed figure – the comfort after heartbreak, the playful banter during training sessions, the laying of her head on his shoulder the night before she died in his arms.

Slowly, the darkness began to recede. The inky tendrils loosened their grip, revealing fragments of your true self beneath. A tear, a single luminous droplet, trickled down the shadowy visage.

"I... I can't control it," your voice, weak and trembling, echoed in his mind. "The darkness... it's a part of me now."

"Maybe," Gambit conceded, his voice firm yet gentle. "But you're still Eclipse, chere. The woman who fights for what's right, the woman who lights up the darkest corners. You're stronger than you think."

He stretched out a mental hand, a beacon of warmth and love. The figure hesitated, then hesitantly reached back, her touch tinged with fear and uncertainty.

It wasn't enough. You were still adrift, tethered to the void by a threadbare connection.

"Professor?" Gambit called out, a desperate plea in his mind.

A wave of mental energy surged through the connection, bolstering the bridge they had built. It was a risky maneuver, Professor Xavier pushing his telepathic abilities to their very limit.

Together, they pulled. They coaxed. They pleaded with every fiber of their beings.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the figure began to respond. The darkness receded further, revealing glimpses of your true form. A single tear, shimmering with a familiar light, traced a path down your cheek.

Then, with a final desperate tug, they pulled you free. The world dissolved back into the sterile white room, the sterile scent of disinfectant stinging his nostrils.

You gasped, a rattling sound that filled the room with a melody sweeter than any song. Your eyes fluttered open, a spark of life rekindled within their depths.

"Remy?" your voice, weak but hopeful, echoed in the room.

A choked sob escaped his lips, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. He wasn't alone. You were back. And together, you would face the darkness, both within and without.

"You're back! She's back!" Remy couldn't stop grinning and shaking with tears, pulling you into a deep embrace as his arms held onto you so tightly that he was scared if he let go, you'd leave him again.

"Oh cher, don't you ever scare Gambit like dat again!" He shook with sobs as he nestled his face into your hair. You held him back, tears cascading down your cheeks.

"I-I thought I was dead," you choked, voice merely a whisper. "I did too, cher. We all did. Rogue went to out tryin' to get revenge for you." Remy stroked your hair, no sign of breaking your shared embrace.

You took in the scent of him, tobacco and sandalwood with a hint of spice you'd always found comfort in whenever he was around. That scent that you'd loved and missed so, so dearly.

"Remy..." you cried, just letting your emotions tumble out of you. You were alive, and he had brought you back. Your Remy.

"Shh, shh, it's gon' be okay chere. You're okay," he soothed. You sighed into his touch, his presence alone bringing you back to life with every comforting word and soothing touch.

Something else caught your attention for a split second as you glanced over. You'd notice that chair anywhere. It was Professor Xavier, who was still very much alive and well. A small smile graced your lips.

"Professor?" your voice raspy, barely a whisper.

Xavier offered a reassuring smile. "Yes, Eclipse. You're back." He turned to Gambit, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. "I believe you two require some time to reacquaint yourselves. I'll inform the others."

With a nod, he exited the room, leaving you and Gambit alone in the sterile silence. Relief finally battled with exhaustion, your eyelids heavy as you tried to focus on the man before you as you pulled away to finally get a good look at him, that face you missed so dearly.

"What... what happened?" your voice trembled as you tried to piece together the fragmented memories swirling in your mind.

Taking a deep breath, Gambit launched into a slow, heartfelt recount. He spoke of Genosha, the devastating attack, and Rogue's consuming grief. He touched upon Emma's unexpected transformation and the lingering uncertainty surrounding Magneto's fate. But most importantly, he spoke of the chilling revelation – the existence of a new enemy, a shadowy figure known as Bastion.

As he spoke, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. You closed your eyes, the weight of the world settling on your weary shoulders.

Sensing your fatigue, Gambit stopped his narrative, gently squeezing your hand. "Don't you worry about the rest, chere. You take all the time you need to get your strength back. We'll handle things here."

A weak smile graced your lips. "Thank you, Remy," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "For everything."

He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. "Don't even think about thank you's, chere. Just get yourself healthy. We've got a whole world of trouble waitin' for us, and it ain't gonna fight itself."

A tired chuckle escaped your lips. You knew he was right. The fight was far from over, but for now, all that mattered was the warmth of his hand in yours, the steady beat of his heart a counterpoint to your own. With him by your side, you could face anything, even the darkness that still lingered within.

"There'll be time to talk later," you rasped, your eyelids fluttering closed once more. "Just... stay with me, Remy. Please?"

He didn't hesitate. Pulling a chair closer to your bedside, he settled in, running his fingers through your soft hair. In the quiet of the sterile room, he kept vigil, a silent promise etched on his face. You were back, and he wouldn't let you slip away again. Together, you would face whatever darkness lurked in the shadows, both within and without.

══════════════════

The sterile white of the infirmary faded to the familiar blue and gold of the X-Mansion as you stumbled out, supported by Remy's steady arm. A day of rest had done wonders, but the echoes of the void still lingered in your mind, a faint tremor that unsettled you.

Remy squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Easy there, belle. You're still movin' a bit like a newborn giraffe."

You managed a weak smile. "Feels like it. I have questions, Remy. About Genosha... about Bastion."

He sighed, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes. "Plenty of time for dat later, chere. Professor wants you to ease back in slow."

But the urgency gnawed at you. You could feel it in the hushed whispers that followed you down the hallway, in the worried glances cast your way. The world had moved on while you were trapped in your own personal nightmare, and you were desperate to catch up.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the training room. The sound of crashing metal and shouts echoed through the halls. You exchanged a confused glance with Remy.

"Looks like someone's havin' a temper tantrum," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Before you could respond, Ororo burst through the doorway, her face a mask of frustration.

"Remy, Eclipse," she said, her voice clipped. "Professor Xavier needs you in the war room. Now."

The urgency in her voice sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. You exchanged a wordless look with Remy before following Ororo, the tremor in your legs replaced by a growing sense of dread.

The war room buzzed with activity. Xavier sat at the center table, his brow furrowed in concentration. Scott and Jean stood beside him, their expressions grim. But it was the sight of Rogue in the corner, her aura crackling with barely contained rage, that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice cutting through the tension-filled silence.

"We've received a message," Xavier said, his voice strained. "From Bastion."

He gestured to the holographic screen at the center of the table. A distorted figure flickered to life, a silhouette shrouded in darkness.

"Mutants," the figure boomed, his voice filled with malice. "Your defiance has reached its end. You will all face your judgment."

The image flickered before dissolving into static. You felt a familiar coldness creep up your spine. Bastion's voice resonated within you, a dark echo stirring the remnants of fear from your recent ordeal.

"What's he planning?" you asked, the question hanging heavy in the air.

"He's making a statement," Scott said, his jaw clenched tight. "A threat. He wants us to live in fear."

Rogue let out a growl. "He wants a fight. And believe me, he's gonna get one."

The air crackled with barely contained energy. You could see in their eyes the same desperation you felt – the need to act, to strike back before Bastion could make his next move.

"We can't let him control us," Jean said, her voice steady but firm. "We need a plan."

Xavier nodded, his gaze flicking to you. You felt a spark of apprehension. Despite your weakened state, you knew you wouldn't be left out of the coming conflict.

"Eclipse," Xavier said, his voice filled with a question. "Are you well enough for this?"

You straightened your shoulders, a newfound determination fueling your resolve.

"More than well enough, Professor," you replied, your voice ringing clear and strong. "The X-Men fight together. And I'm not going to sit this one out."

A flicker of approval crossed Xavier's face. A sense of unity settled over the room, replacing the fear with a steely resolve. The battle against Bastion had begun, and the X-Men, battered but not broken, were ready to fight. You had stared into the void and come back. Now, it was time to face what lurked in the shadows.

When the meeting was seemingly dismissed, you lingered in the halls with Remy for a beat too long. There was still so much that lingered unspoken between the both of you. Neither of you had admitted actual feelings yet. You reached out for him, but he brushed you off, a coolness to the air. "Sorry chere, I'm just...still gettin' used to dis. It's crazy. You bein' back from the dead and all. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy you're back. It's just...I dunno chere, I guess I just need time to process it all," he sighed heavily flipping a Queen card between his fingers.

You understood all too well, your own feelings of displacement fresh. You'd been away for weeks but present at the same time.

"Right, no...I-I understand. I need time too," you replied, feeling an air of indifference between the two of you. You parted ways, even as your feet dragged the halls. It stung. You couldn't lie. But if time was what Remy needed, you'd give that to him with respect and space.

The sterile halls of the X-Mansion echoed with an emptiness that mirrored the hollowness you felt inside. The near-death experience had left you adrift, a ghost haunting the place you once called home. You craved a connection, a familiar voice amidst the strategizing and simmering tension.

Spotting Morph lounging by a window, a pang of relief nearly flooded through you. "Hey stranger, finally back from the dead to catch up on our horror movie sessions. Sorry it took me so damn long."

Morph smirked. "There's that dark sense of humour I missed. C'mere." They opened their arms and brought you into a bone crushing hug. "Careful there, or you'll break me in half." you smirked, hugging them back with equal comfort.

"I've missed your dumb face. Your real one. You know how many times I had to shapeshift into you just so I could get by without breaking down? Every time I did, only to see you staring back at me in the mirror, telling me you were okay and shit was gonna be alright?" They sighed, voice trembling and threatening to break with each word.

"Oh, Kevin..." you were trying so hard to fight back your own wave of emotions. "Don't ever pull that shit again Eclipse." They pulled away, serious this time.

You decided to take this conversation to the living room, a vast open area where the two of you used to laugh at stupid rom coms. You took a seat on the sofa, patting the seat next to you for Morph to join.

They settled in beside you, popping a can of soda in the process, soaking in the rare moment of calm. The weird sensation of having you back.

"Tell me about Genosha, Morph. Remy filled me in on the big stuff, but…"

Their face hardened. "It was bad, Eclipse. Real bad. I watched the events transpire on television and let's just say, no horror movie could pale in comparison to what I saw on the news. And Rogue… well, she was not herself."

They recounted the raw grief that had consumed Rogue, her powers surging out of control as she sought vengeance. He spoke of the fight with Synch, the desperation in her eyes.

"And Remy? How'd he cope with it all?" you finally asked, voice tinged with trepidation, the question lingering heavy in the air.

Morph hesitated, then sighed. "He was lost, Eclipse. He cared for you deeply. But after… well, after you were gone, Rogue was on a one-woman warpath. Gambit tried to reason with her, but…" they trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air.

You felt a flicker of something akin to disappointment. Despite your connection with Remy, the knowledge that he might have sought solace in Rogue during your absence twisted a knot in your gut. You couldn't have blamed him though.

"There was more to it than that," a voice cut in, sharp and laced with a raw honesty that made you turn. Rogue stood there at the archway into the living room, arms crossed.

"Rogue," you said, your voice cautious. "I can't imagine what you've been through."

"Hey sugah...things ain't been easy since you went lights out on us."

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't pretend, Eclipse. You and I, we both know there was something between Remy and me after you… after you died."

A wave of unexpected honesty washed over you. You met her gaze, your voice equally as raw. "I always felt there was something lingering between the two of you. Remy made no mistake of hiding it... but Genosha, and that dance with Magneto... did you love Remy?"

The question hung in the air for a beat too long before Rogue finally answered. "Maybe. In a way. But it wasn't the same. He was… broken, Eclipse. After you were gone, a part of him just… shut down. The man i knew wasn't my Remy."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You remembered the haunted look in Remy's eyes, the way his touch had seemed distant, a mere echo of the warmth you once shared.

"He tried to help me," Rogue continued, her voice heavy with regret. "But he was just going through the motions. It wasn't fair to either of us," she explained, making her way closer to you.

A strange sense of understanding bloomed between you. You saw the vulnerability in Rogue's eyes, the unspoken grief she'd been trying to mask. It wasn't about betrayal, you realized. It was about two people clinging to the wreckage of their emotions, seeking solace in a broken bond.

"We all lost someone, Rogue," you said, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "But we can't let that break us. We have to fight. To live to see another day. And for Remy too. Maybe, just maybe, by fighting together, we can help him find his way back to himself."

Rogue flinched but didn't pull away. A flicker of something akin to hope flickered in her eyes, a silent pact forged in shared grief and a newfound understanding. She was still your best friend and nothing would ever change that.

#x men 97 #xmen #gambit #remy lebeau #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #cera writes

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r1-jw-lover · 1 day

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Koji Shimazu and the Osaka Continental - A Colour Theory

This is meant to be a continuation of the previous analysis I've done on the colour grading/lighting choices for some of the characters in the John Wick movie series, but I've got to dedicate a separate post for Koji Shimazu himself (and the entire Osaka act in general).

Before I go into it though, I would like to recommend you to first check out @evren-sadwrn's analysis [1, 2] on the Marquis de Gramont, John and Helen Wick as well as @bluelolblue's analysis [1, 2] on Santino and John.

Tagging @thewhumpcaretaker, @tobytheeggo, @babayagaiscomingforya and of course @saengak the number one Koji fan on Wickblr <3.

PART I: BLUE/RED

When you see the opening shots of the Osaka Continental and Koji's scenes before the raid, the entire hotel was lit by blue and red lights. I think this is very important to note because in the post where I talked about Akira and John, Akira was bathed blue lights in her introduction while John was bathed in red lights in his first scene in Osaka. Add on the fact that Koji's outift has both red and blue colours on it, the movie is already subtly telling us that Koji's loyalty lies in both Akira and John.

I think this just adds another layer to the tragedy that is the whole Osaka sequence. The blue/red lights may allude to one thing about Koji's character but may mean different things for Akira and John's character respectively. Plucking out from @evren-sadwrn's tags:

For Akira, the blue represents the normalcy of her life before John Wick's red showed up and began symbolising her delving into the path of vengeance and violence, like John himself. However for John, those blue/red lights are just neon lights to him, the Baba Yaga persona on full display as he was beginning to realise the consequences of his rebellion, something which costed his friend's life and inevitably produced another John Wick in Akira.

PART II: YELLOW

Now, there are two scenes in the Osaka act that's bathed in yellow lights, the first one being Akira telling Koji about the news of the New York Continental being blown up, and the second being Koji confronting Chidi and the Myrmidons, which could only lead us to one conclusion.

I believe the yellow neon, in this context, represents the Marquis de Gramont and the looming threat he posed to the very existence of the Osaka Continental.

And when you mix blue and red respectively with yellow, well, this leads us directly to the next part of this analysis.

PART III: GREEN/ORANGE

The Osaka raid started, and the hotel lights changed to green and orange. (BLUE + YELLOW = GREEN, RED + YELLOW = ORANGE)

I know that people have extrapolated that the green not so subtly symbolises the start of the highly-anticipated action that is expected from a John Wick movie, like how the green light of a traffic light means 'go', but I want to extrapolate more meaning from this choice of lighting.

Green is a distortion of the colour blue, and is the opposite of red based on the colour wheel. Going by what we have established above being Akira=blue and John=red, green could imply Koji's choice distorting Akira's desire to keep the peace of their hotel in favour of protecting John and letting him go off alive.

In a similar way, orange is the distortion of red and the opposite of blue. Orange could possibly mean that Koji's choice (and his death) inevitably turned his daughter closer towards a path of vengeance and violence, the path John Wick had taken that Koji himself chastised him for during their meeting on the rooftop.

PART IV: THE EXCEPTIONS

The locations that didn't turn to green and orange lights in the Osaka Continental is the kitchen and the modern art gallery, both of which stayed blue (and yellow in the case of the kitchen), and that's because none of them featured Koji. Instead, the focus of the these two scenes are given to another character: Caine.

The yellow in the kitchen scene could easily represent Caine being used as the Marquis' weapon during the Osaka siege. For John, we know that neon lights, no matter the color, represent his Baba Yaga side. For Caine, however, what does the colour blue mean to his character in this context, within the Osaka act?

During Caine's introduction, more precisely, in the only scene in the movie where Mia appeared in (except for the post-credit scene), the location where they filmed had a clear blue sky. In trying to protect Mia, Caine was in a way also trying to protect Akira too. This is especially clear with the way Caine tried to convince Koji countless times to surrender John. Unfortunately, Koji cared for Akira and John equally and was willing to sacrifice his life to protect both of them.

And because he killed her father, Caine ironically became the person Akira held so much anger against from this whole event that happened to her. He fulfilled Koji's wish of letting John escape (hence the green colour), and he was the push that drove Akira to seek revenge (hence the orange colour). Caine was even self-aware of this since he told Akira that he would be waiting for her.

This is what makes the Koji vs Caine duel so fucking tragic and the post-credit scene even more heartbreaking.

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waitineedaname · 1 day

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Do u have any transfemme Jiang Cheng headcanons you’re willing to share 🥺 every time you bring it up it makes me unreasonably happy so I would love to hear more about it 🫶🫶

AHHHH no really major headcanons, it's just something I like to rotate in my mind a lot! transfemme jiang cheng is. so special to me. I guess I have a few thoughts

I think a big part of Jiang Cheng's relationship to gender comes from Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan being the models of masculinity and femininity growing up. Jiang Cheng already relates a Lot to Yu Ziyuan, and I think if JC is transfemme, it's a big deal to her that Yu Ziyuan wields so much power. She's an incredible cultivator, a fierce fighter, and generally is a force to be reckoned with. At the same time, she's still a woman living in a misogynistic society. YZY would probably make a better sect leader than JFM, but she's a woman and his wife, and therefore he gets the final say in things

This in turn I think affects Jiang Cheng's feelings about gender and being sect leader. Jiang Cheng has a tendency to prioritize sect concerns > personal desires, and I think in this situation, masculinity is seen as a tool. Even if she knows privately that she is a woman, she would not be public about it because she's already in a precarious position being such a young sect leader. She needs all the respect she can get when rebuilding the Jiang sect, so she stays in the closet by choice. She might eventually come out years and years later, once the Jiang sect is stable and she knows she's not going to get fucked over, but that's really not her first priority

I do think she tells her siblings, though. Jiang Yanli is probably the first person she tells, and she's endlessly supportive. Wei Wuxian is kind of clueless about this sort of thing (see: not realizing he liked men until he got resurrected into the body of a gay man) but he loves Jiang Cheng so he'd be supportive, especially if he learned when they were both still kids. Of course, this makes the tragedy of Jiang Cheng losing everyone even worse. After her siblings died, there was no one who knew who she really was. Thank god for resurrections, huh? fucking hell

in a modern au, I think being a woman would fix her. She would be able to come out without all the other bullshit to worry about, and I think it would be very healing for her. I've known a number of people to go on estrogen who said the effects were more emotional than physical, and I think HRT would be so good for her. I just need Jiang Cheng to be happy goddammit. has she not been through enough

that got long. I guess I had more thoughts than I expected lsdkjflksdjf I also have a snippet from a modern au wip that I don't know if I'll ever continue/finish, but I'll put it under a read more bc I find it funny. I think Wen Qing should crack Jiang Cheng's egg, as a treat <3

Wen Qing knew Jiang Cheng too well. It was something he both loved and hated. There were very few people outside his family that could see through his blustering and read him for who he was, and Wen Qing was one of them. Hell, she was better at it than his own brother.

She didn't hesitate to call him on it either. He wouldn't be forgetting the way she'd looked at him after he introduced her to his parents and told him this explains a lot about you. Rude. Correct, but rude.

Because she knew him so well, she knew the best times to drop these bombs on him. Exposing him when he was in the wrong mood might make his temper flare, or it might make him curl into an insecure ball. Neither were reactions he liked having around her.

Wen Qing knew the best time to drop revelations on him was when he was happy and as close to relaxed as he could get, which is of course why she apparently decided the best time to bring up this particular bombshell was when he was floating in postcoital bliss.

“I'm going to tell you something,” Wen Qing said, her ankle still hooked gently around his calf. “You can't freak out about it.”

Jiang Cheng paused in the middle of pressing lazy kisses to her temple, heart rate immediately spiking. “Now?” he said, incredulous and a little whiny.

“It's not a bad thing,” she reassured him, gently scratching his scalp. It relaxed him like a charm, though he was still suspicious. “Do you promise to listen?”

“Do I have much of a choice?” he asked, propping himself up on her chest. Her lips quirked in a smile as she looked down at him.

“I think you're a woman,” she said, direct and matter-of-fact.

Jiang Cheng jolted upright so hard he slammed his head into the headboard. Wen Qing frowned and sat up as he rolled off her. “You're going to give yourself a concussion,” she said, accusatory.

“You're insane!” Jiang Cheng said, attempting to sit upright without making his head swim. Wen Qing huffed and pushed him down with a firm hand to his chest. He could throw her off if he wanted to, but, well, he didn't want to. He rather liked it when she pushed him around and climbed on top of him like she was right now, pinning him in place and preventing him from running away from the conversation.

#asks #sandu zidian #mdzs #jiang cheng #my writing #sorry this post is so long I'm not normal about jiang cheng #DISCLAIMER ABOUT THE SNIPPET: cracking someone else's egg should always be done gently and with caution #it's better to let someone else figure it out themself and just be supportive the whole time #however. in this situation I think wen qing has thought long and hard about it #and decided jc is not going to figure this out without intervention #also this exchange just appeared in my head one night when I was trying to fall asleep so I had to write it #I really want to write more of it...... I just don't know how to approach jc's inner gender journey #especially since im not transfemme myself #i wanna do it right!#the temptation to trans jiang cheng's gender in my fake marriage au is. strong.#but maybe I should reserve that for much later along the timeline lol #anyway. grabbing jiang cheng in my jaws and shaking around like a dog with a chew toy

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emotinalsupportturtle · 5 months

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coming home for the holidays from university in your twenties (no family tragedy has taken place, yet) makes me feel like I finally understand what Hamlet was actually on about

#if this continues like this there WILL be a tragedy #coming to overshare on tumblr again after realising I've been subjected to some rambling old man (friend of the family??)i am likely to sta #always found hamlet relatable but that was mostly the suicide emo part #i like to brood everyone else can kindly shut up #shut up about boys i'm gay (well bi and i might have liked him once that's a different story)#also stop fucking bowing down to power/influence and pampering narcissistic egoists #me typing at the speed of light messaging my uni friend saying “bro (gn) these people are crazy and it's also so stiffling”#also have the childhood acquinatances commiting to the bit (don't expect me to sell my soul to capitalism and conventionalism too)#now i'm contemplating feigning(??) madness #or should i just put on a silly little play #hamlet #shakespeare #realized this is a lot of rambling

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secretmellowblog · 1 year

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The thing is, Jean Valjean’s “nineteen year prison sentence for stealing a loaf of bread” from Les Mis isn’t actually unusual….not even today! I see people talking about it as if it’s strange or unimaginable when it happens every day.

In modern America — often as a result of pointlessly cruel (and racist) habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws— people are routinely sentenced to life in prison for minor crimes like shoplifting or possession of drugs.

The ACLU did a report in 2013 detailing the lives of various people who were sentenced to life in prison without parole for nonviolent property crimes like:

•attempting to cash a stolen check

•a junk-dealer’s possession of stolen junk

metal (10 valves and one elbow pipe)

•possession of stolen wrenches

•siphoning gasoline from a truck

•stealing tools from a tool shed and a welding machine from a yard

•shoplifting three belts from a department store

•shoplifting several digital cameras

•shoplifting two jerseys from an athletic store

• taking a television, circular saw, and a power converter from a vacant house

• breaking into a closed liquor store in the middle of the night

And of course, so so so many people sentenced to life without parole for the possession of a few grams of drugs.

And we could go on and on!

Gregory Taylor was a homeless man in Los Angeles who, in 1997, was sentenced to “25 years to life” for attempting to steal food from a food kitchen. He was released after 13 years. The lawyers helping to release him even cited Les Miserables in their appeal, comparing Taylor’s sentence to Jean Valjean’s.

And there’s another specific bit of social commentary Hugo was making about Valjean’s trial that’s still depressingly relevant. He writes that Valjean was sentenced for the theft of loaf of bread, but also that the court managed to make that sentence stick by bringing up some of his past misdemeanors. For example, Valjean owned a gun and was known to occasionally poach wildlife (presumably for his starving family to eat.) . So the court exaggerates how harmful the bread theft was—he had to smash a windowpane to get the bread, which is basically Violence— then insist the fact that he owns a gun and occasionally poaches is proof that he is habitually and innately violent. Then when Valjean obviously becomes distressed traumatized and furious as a result of his nakedly unjust sentence and begins making desperate (and very unsuccessful/impulsive/ poorly thought through) attempts to escape…. the government indifferently tacks more years onto his sentence, labels him a “dangerous” felon, and insists that its initial read of him as an innately violent person was correct.

And it’s sad how a lot of the real life stories linked earlier are similar to the commentary Hugo wrote in 1863? Someone will commit a nonviolent property crime, and then the court insists that a bunch of other miscellaneous things they’ve done in the past (whether it’s other minor thefts or being addicted to drugs or w/e) are Proof they’re inherently violent and incapable of being around other people.

A small very petty fandom side note: This is also why I dislike all those common jokes you see everywhere along the lines of “lol it’s so unrealistic for the police to want to arrest Valjean over a loaf of bread, there must have been some other reason the police were pursuing him. Because the state would never punish someone that harshly and irrationally for no reason. so maybe javert was just gay haha”. (Ex: this tiktok— please don’t harass the creator or poster though, I don’t think they were intending to mean anything like that and its just a silly common type of joke you see made about Les mis all the time so it’s not unique in any way.) because like.

As much as I don’t think Les Mis is a flawless book or that its political messaging is perfect….the only way that insanely long unjust sentences for minor crimes is “unrealistic” is if you’re operating on the assumption that prisons are here to Keep You Safe by always only punishing bad criminals who do serious crimes. And that’s just, not true at all. Like I get that these are just goofy silly shallow jokes, and I’m not angry or going to harass anyone who makes them. but it feels like there’s an assumption underlying all those goofy jokes that “this is just not how prison works!” “Prisons don’t routinely sentence people to absurd laughably unjust pointless sentences!” “Prisons give people fair sentences for logical reasons!” When like…no

Valjean being relentlessly hounded and tortured for a minor crime in a way that is utterly ridiculous and arbitrary in its cruelty is not actually a plot hole in Les mis. It’s a plot hole in …..society ajsjkdkdkf. And the only way to fix that is to fight for prison abolition or at least reform, and (in America) stand up against the vicious naked cruelty of habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws.

But yeah :(. I hate how Les Mis opens with a prologue saying the novel will be obsolete the moment the social issues it describes have been resolved— but two hundred years later, the book is still more relevant than ever because we’re dealing with so many of the exact same injustices.

#les mis #lm 1.2.6 #Jean Valjean #anyway sometimes lm 1.2.6 makes me sad and sometimes it makes me angry #today I feel both #: ‘(((((((((((((((#but yeah #also again I don’t hate people who make the goofy ‘lol valjeans prison sentence was so unrealistic javert must be gay’ jokes #i get that they’re jokes #and that they’re mostly made by people who like watched Les mis 2012 once #but also #but also but also #:’’’’(#I don’t know the tragedy of valjeans story and the continued relevance of that social commentary Gets to me #Les mis letters #Les mis daily

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