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nepofmwren · 10 months

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kristine froseth. she/her. cis woman. ›spotted at the met steps , wren lafleur , most likely listening to gypsy by fleetwood mac with their airpods pro . the twenty one gained quite a reputation , known to be -insecure yet +creative to anyone who knows them . you’ll easily spot them when you hear about a smile that can light up a room, mascara stained eyes, a room filled with vintage fashion, dancing barefoot in the rain , followed by eau de soleil blanc eau de toilette by tom ford . latest nepoupdates article talks about making a sex tape with her manager , but i guess any reputation is good reputation .

BASICS

Full Name: Wren Lafleur

Age: 21

Siblings: Wesley Lafleur (fraternal twin brother)

Birthdate: August 18th, 2001

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Hometown: Marseille, France

Current residence: New York, New York

Occupation: social media influencer & model

LIKES/DISLIKES

LIKES: Vintage fashion, Fleetwood Mac & Stevie Nicks, early 2000′s pop music, stuffed animals, cheesy romantic comedies, handwritten notes, Starbucks, chocolate covered strawberries, makeup, shopping, mini skirts, her overflowing shoe closet, Sunday brunches with her besties, daddy’s credit card

DISLIKES: Rude people, spicy/tart food, sleeping in past your alarm, bad hair/makeup days, chipped nail polish, canceled plans, getting spoiled for the end of a book or show, not understanding a joke, being yelled at

MINI BIO

Trigger warning for mentions of anxiety, depression, death

Wren and Wresley were born in France to parents Lisa Kapone and Alain Lafleur, being one of the most famous and prominent names within Europe. Everybody wanted to know and be a member of the Lafleur family, considering her parents had high connections in the hospitality and fashion industries.

Her childhood was nothing short of magical, it being something anybody would envy. Both her and her brother were spoiled rotten by parents that saw them as their 'golden twins'. Their life seemed perfect. Well, almost too perfect that is.

The tone of her family dynamic took a negative turn after the infamous cheating scandel in her parent's marriage along with the passing of their mom. The Lafleur family had one too many scandles hit the front page news and weren't as squeaky clean as others pegged them to me. A preteen Wren didn't quite know how to handle this kind of spotlight on her family.

Wren always was a bit closer with her mom in comparison to her dad ( though she liked to think she had a good relationship with both of them ). So, her death did hit her hard even if she never always outwardly showed it.

Wren began to go to therapy to try to talk through her intense feelings that she was having from her mom's passing. She was diagnosed with panic discorder and depression and was put on medication for both.

Generally, her anxiety has always been worse than her depression. It causing her to lose sleep and effect her day to day life. Thanks to regular therapy and medication, a young Wren was able to be "okay" for the most part.

When she transitioned into her teenage years, Wren would begin her 'rebellious' streak. Befriending older models from photoshoots and shows, she would find herself sneaking off underage to house parties and clubs. Fake ID's didn't really matter when she had major connections thanks to her last name. That chunk of her life ( around fifteen to like nineteen ) was probs her most intense party stages. She is still very much a party goer, but she's tried to clean up her act a lil' bit.

College wasn't much of a thought for Wren, already knowing it would be a waste of time for her. School was never really her thing, even though she graduated from high school with decent marks. The girl knew that she wanted to continue with climbing up the ladder of the fashion world and raise her follower count on social media.

So right now, she's just kinda vibing??? Continuing to take modeling gigs and doing her social media stuff. Her short term goals do include starting a podcast and fashion line.

HC'S/FUN FACTS/OTHER INFO

Wren stopped going to therapy and regularly taking her medication after high school, becoming too busy with her various jobs and feeling like it wasn't necessary for her anymore.

As an alternative, she just hits her dab pen a lot and has found other hobbies to curb her anxious thoughts ( adult coloring books, yoga, making handmade jewerly, etc ).

Wren spent her high school years vlogging her teenage years and posting weekly updates on her youtube channel ( very much Emma Chamberlain tbh ). Overall, she has always wanted to appear geninune and relatable to her fans/audience. Her content ranged from thrifting hauls, school vlogging, get ready with me's, music recs, etc.

As she got a bit older and youtube wasn't become as popular, she transitioned those vlogs over to her instragram and tiktok.

She has been coined as one of the most "powerful" up and coming young influencers in the fashion industry. Basically, teens and other young adults pin her outfits on pinterest and she has made certain "trends" go viral.

Wren is an extroverted introvert. She's very "mirroball / the archer / this is me trying coded." She can be considered a bit of a social chameleon. She can put on a good outwardly appearance when it is needed for her career and social outings. She tries to be friendly and generally see the best in others but ultimately, she tends to keep a smaller inner circle of close friends. When she is in party mode, it's a different story. Bestie is talkative af when she is tipsy and on other sustances.

The rumor about her is 10000% true. She ended up going to a last minute party with her manager that went waaaay too crazy. One thing lead to another and BOOM, a sex tape was recorded. She is pretty terrified of it getting leaked, knowing it would ruin her reputation.

WREN IS A SWIFTIE. She has been one since the start!! If you asked her for her favorite albums from her, she is torn between folklore/ lover / reputation.

Bestie is a hopeless romantic :// known for having her fair share of flings and one night stands but has had very minimal partners. She has a big heart but is very insecure and hasn't quite found the right person to really open up to.

Honestly....she is a bit ditzy. She can have her head in the clouds at times and be a bit naive and be a little too trusting of others who probably will stab her in the back.

Overall, Wren is a very eccentric famous model / influencer who is a pretty messy but means well <33

FULL BIO

coming soon.

#nepofm.intro #about;#anxiety tw #depression tw #death tw

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Kickstart My Heart Pt.1 (Racer! Yeosang)

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Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, 80s AU.

Summary: During an era known for its vibrant colors, eccentric fashion styles and rise of new yet unconventional genres of music, the young generation of that time was infamously known for their need to rebel and live their lives rather scandalously and Y/N is no exception. So when a new and attractive man moves into her town, she has her eyes set on making him her next boy toy.

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Dumb attempts at crackhead humor, reader is a cold hearted bitch, guy gets dumped in public, reader's friend is lowkey creepy.

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Throwing on the last article of clothing that had been discarded the night before, the young woman shook out her hair, still damp from the quick shower she just took. Picking up her bag, she looked over at the figure still sleeping soundly, the subtle hint of a smile on his face. With a pitied pout on her lips, she walked over to the edge where his face was. Taking out the lipstick tube from her bag, she applied it all over her lips, painting them in the dark burgundy color that she fancied so much and had practically become her signature hue. Bending over, she pressed her lips against the corners of his mouth, giving him the faintest whisper of a kiss before pulling away. A satisfied smirk was plastered on her pretty features as she stared at the lipstick mark on his face, the only memoir she'd leave him with as she had done with countless others.

Closing the front door behind her, she pulled her denim jacket tighter on her body, shivering slightly from the early dawn's breeze that blew across. It was always like that even though summer had just begun, the early morning hours still feeling obnoxiously cool and then transpiring into slightly uncomfortably warm afternoons that had more than one soul in that quaint town grumbling and fussing about the weather. But oh did the evenings feel absolutely refreshing, and that's when everything would start bustling to life.

Having finally made it out of that small residential area and finding one of the main roads that helped her locate where to go, she started heading south towards the all too familiar diner where she had been working in ever since her school days, first starting part time and eventually transpiring to full time when it came time for her to spread her wings and fly out on her own, a feat she had been most anxious to do to get away from the overly controlling nature of her parents. She knew they cared about her, but she herself cared very little about the morals and principles they had raised her with, a common trait all the young people in that town shared: their rebellious and headstrong nature to not conform and go against everything they had been taught thus far. Live their own lives as freely as they chose to do.

And she definitely lived as she wanted to, even if it ended up with a rather bad reputation and ugly labels that rather than infuriate her, she openly embraced, as others had come to as well.

The light twinkle of the bells above the glass door let the person at the register know someone came in and they immediately plastered on their business smile, which quickly faded when they saw who it was.

"You're late Y/N." The minuscule raven haired waitress informed her, eyes never leaving her coworker's figure that came behind the counter and started punching in her number.

"Only by like 7 minutes." She waved her slip at the nonchalant looking girl before placing it back in its respective slot.

"One day it wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't show up because you got too caught up in.... something else."

Chuckling softly, Y/N walked up behind her coworker, hands coming up to ruffle the cheekbone level bob cut hair framing her unusually small face.

"Awww come on Lynn, you know I'd never leave you hanging here to attend customers by yourself. You're my bestie." Y/N assured her, playfully poking her lips out as she tried to place a kiss on her friend, the poor girl craning her neck away as she tended to dislike physical affection.

"I will squirt ketchup on you." Lynn threatened as she picked up the cherry red bottle as a last resort to get her attacker to back away. A rather noisy struggle ensued between both girls, catching the attention of the owner and cook behind the two doors, prompting her to come out and see what was the cause of such ruckus.

"Well I'll be darned. I don't remember paying you youngsters to simply slack off and behave like the hooligans you are." The middle aged woman spoke up, her thick accent becoming more prominent. Although she had a stern look and hands placed at her hips, the girls knew she was not in reality angry at them.

Looking over at the recently arrived girl, the owner closed her eyes and sighed deeply when she took in the attire she was wearing: low cut white tank, ripped denim shorts that left little to the imagination if she bent down, fishnet tights with a few holes in them, and her beloved denim jacket that was almost always on Y/N's body.

"I swear to god, Y/N , everytime I see you wear them rags you call clothes, I feel like my body is about to collapse. Why must you insist on dressing like a common street worker?"

Y/N wasn't at all offended by her words, having grown used to and becoming fond of her boss's abrupt, direct and honest manner of speaking.

"Gotta start looking the part if I'm going to dedicate my life to the occupation." She giggled at her own joke, resulting in the older woman taking the rag off her apron and smacking her with it.

"This little runt, talking nonsense like that- get your ass back in there and change into your uniform. Can't have you prancing around here in those skimpy clothes and have all these men that come here say disrespectful things about you. Nuh uh, not to my girls." She shook her head.

"Yes Miss Audrey." Complying with the woman's wishes, she pushed open the swing doors leading to the back and quickly made her way to the corner where all the employee's cubicles were located. Grabbing the necessary items, she turned and went inside the bathroom to change into her uniform, consisting of a knee length crimson red dress, which she had actually altered so it would be shorter and display her thighs more, the cap sleeves slightly puffed up and the torso part had a trail of white buttons going all the way up to the modest v-neckline, usually most buttons were left undone so her cleavage would shamelessly peak out. Exchanging her black Doc Martens in favor of her white Nike sneakers, Y/N tied her apron around her waist, making sure it was as tight as possible so it would accentuate her curves and give her body a more flattering appearance. As she made her way out, she quickly piled her hair up before securing it with one of the many elastics she kept around her wrists, leaving out a few tendrils to fall on her temples.

Coming back out to start her daily work, she stood in front of Lynn, who merely spared her an unamused glance.

"How do I look?" Y/N asked.

"Like a total slut." Her friend answered in her usually rude way.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a spray bottle and a rag. Making her way over to the table that had just finished being used, she quickly picked up the plates and glass, bringing them back over to where Lynn was, who took them so she could wash them in the sink. Spraying the top of the marble piece, she had began her task of wiping down the table when the ringing of the bell signaled new customers had arrived, and rowdy ones at that too.

"Damn! Is today's special fluffy sponge cake? Cause I would sure love a piece of that ass."

Y/N recognized that annoying voice even from miles away, belonging to none other than one of her old classmates, Jung Wooyoung, whom she considered a friend, if he didn't manage to irk her too much. Turning around, she of course wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by his crew of equally idiotic and adrenaline junkie friends, whom she had to admit were pleasant and fun to hang out with.

"Sit your asses down already, I'll be over in a minute to take your order." She told them before resuming her previous task, earning a scoff from the most dramatic of the group.

"Fine customer service! Don't think you'll be getting a tip from me." His words made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wooyoung please, you never ever tip whenever you come. None of you, except Yunho." It kinda saddened her that said male unfortunately wasn't there with them at the moment.

"He doesn't tip you, he tips short stack over there." His friend with cat like eyes pointed towards Lynn, who upon overhearing him held up a rather explicit finger in his direction.

"I'll poison your food San." She threatened with a sing song tone.

"Like I wouldn't know that you already spit on it." San spat back, sticking his tongue out in his immature and infantile fashion.

"Can you guys hurry up and order already? I'm starving and we gotta head to the tracks as early as possible." The fiery red haired male known as Song Mingi blurted out, fingers tapping impatiently against the top of the table.

"If little miss g-string would care to hop her luscious ass over here, maybe we could."

Strutting over to where they sat, Y/N harshly threw the dirty rag on Wooyoung's face, causing a faint grunt to come out of his mouth.

"No matter how many times you mention my ass, I'm still not letting you tap it." She firmly stated, making Wooyoung slightly purse his lips outwards in a disappointed grimace.

"So anygays-" Mingi began.

"Umm I think you mean anyways." San corrected him.

Leaning in towards him, Mingi locked eyes on the shorter male and stared him down with an intimidating glare.

"Did I stutter Choi?"

San immediately shook his head rapidly. With a victory smile, Mingi reclined back in his seat.

"I'm just going to get the breakfast platter with some orange juice."

Y/N couldn't stifle her snort when he said his choice of drink, the other two men looking away in embarrassment.

"You've been drinking orange juice since you were in grade school Mingles, don't you think you outta start taking something more grown up? Like coffee?" San suggested and Mingi did not appreciate it.

"Coming from the one who still brings a plushie to sleep with him, your suggestion holds no value or power." He retorted.

"OK SHIBER IS NOT A PLUSHIE, HE'S FAMILY YOU JACKASS!" San sprinted up from his seat, nearly leaning across to grab Mingi by the color, but he was held back by Wooyoung.

Lynn, who had thus far stayed quiet, promptly came up with a spray bottle and consequently doused the untamed boy on his face.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty." She reprimanded him, unable to resist the opportunity to attack her long time frenemy.

"Lynn!" Y/N looked at her with surprise.

"You're welcome." Lynn replied rather monotone before going back to her place behind the counter like she didn't just spray San with disinfecting water.

"There's too many germs going around anyways..." She muttered under her breath.

Without any further interruptions, aside from the rumbling coming out of the boys' stomachs, they finished ordering what they wanted and Y/N sent it over so they could be prepared. Not wanting to be near their loud asses, Y/N went back over to where Lynn was, peeking over to see what she was currently reading in the magazine she held.

"What you reading?" She casually inquired.

"Horoscope section." Y/N wasn't surprised, her friend tended to be into more mystical, eccentric and rather.....extreme with her taste in fashion and music. If Y/N was the one who turned heads for her scandalous attire, Lynn was the one people turned away from in fear when they saw how she dressed. It was a sight that truly made both of them laugh at people's foolishness, well at least made Y/N laugh. Her friend rarely had any other expression plastered on that wasn't utter disdain for society and life.

Unexpectedly, another customer came in. Both girls looked at each other in confusion when neither of them recognized him. Their town was rather small with few people living there, so they deduced that he must be a traveler who probably got lost on his route. He himself looked around nervously, eyes barely lifting up. Y/N couldn't help herself as she took in his perfect face. Big, round eyes with crystal clear orbs, small face with a V-line jaw, perfectly sculpted nose with no sign of defects, skin smooth and blemish free, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale. He was incredibly pretty, yet stood there so awkwardly that it was almost comical.

"Hey Yeosang! You made it! Sit down! I ordered for you in advanced!" Wooyoung surprised both girls when it seemed he knew the stranger and even waved him over to where they sat. The other two boys also seem familiarized with him and welcomed him to sit with them, chatting up a storm already with him.

"Who's that?" Lynn was the one to finally ask out loud.

"Beats me.....but he sure is adorable."

Noticing the way her lips curled upwards, Lynn could already see the wheels inside Y/N's head turning.

"And I bet you're going to go over there and find out- aaand there you go." She ended up answering her own deduction as she watched Y/N happily walked over with a more bright expression on her face, that soon soured when her boss came out of the kitchen and beat her over to the table, laying down several plates of food.

"I knew as soon as I saw the orders that it had to be the lot of you." She scoffed softly as she looked at the boys' grinning faces.

"You know us Miss Audrey, we wouldn't ever think of eating anywhere else but here. You're the best cook in all of town." Wooyoung praised her with a sparkling charm that could have fooled anyone else but not the robust woman in front of him.

"Boy stop trying to tickle my ears, I've known you since you were in your soiled diapers being carried around by your mama, running around and creating chaos anywhere you went. Flattery may work on them poor girls you play with but me? I can see right through ruffians like you."

Turning her head to finally notice the new addition to the group, she looked him up and down.

"Boy who might you be?" She questioned him, earning the ears of the girls nearby to listen in for any valuable information.

"I'm..... Yeosang Kang, nice to meet you." He introduced himself, tilting his head slightly down when he said that.

"He just moved into town this week! He's the new guy who is going to work with us down at the car shop and help on the race track!" San enthusiastically shouted, making the older woman cringe.

"I may be old, but I still haven't gone deaf for you to yell in such a way boy. So...." She crossed her arms and looked at Yeosang again.

"You a racer too?"

Now the girls, particularly Y/N, were more interested in what his response would be.

"I- yes. So it seems." The poor boy looked so flustered, obviously being more of a soft spoken individual, contrasting starkly to the other 3 boys.

Miss Audrey let out a seemingly displeased hum at his answer.

"As if we needed anymore hooligans running wild. We already got enough with the 3 Stooges over here."

The girls couldn't help but snicker at their boss's words, always having a blast whenever she put the boys back in their place. They however looked displeased, glaring at them intensely.

"Shouldn't you both be off somewhere cleaning dishes or making sandwiches?"

Snatching one of the knifes, Lynn held it up and was about to jump over, but Y/N came up in front of her.

"Lynn, no. Just calm down ok? You know they're just being idiots." Y/N reminded her.

Grumbling something in a foreign language no one knew for sure if it was real or not, Lynn put the knife back, squinting her eyes at them before turning around to not look at them again. Y/N giggled softly, finding it absolutely cute whenever her friend lost her cool and collected form cause it reminded her of a chihuahua, barking and yelping at anything larger than itself trying to establish dominance.

Noticing that in her display of aggression, Lynn had inadvertently knocked over a few of the brochures that were on display for people to take, Y/N stooped down and proceeded to pick them up in a casual manner. Standing up, she neatly arranged them properly, making sure they all faced the same direction and the sides weren't poking out anywhere. Feeling as though someone had been watching her all along, she looked at the table of boys, half expecting Wooyoung's smug grin to greet her, but she was completely wrong as it was none other than the new guy who seemed unable to keep his eyes off her figure, staring intently at the length of her skirt. When he realized she noticed, his eyes went wide, cheeks burning up with utter embarrassment. Y/N however seemed unbothered by this. Wanting to test something, she pretended to accidentally drop one of the pamphlets. Bending over, she made sure he could get a perfect glimpse of her cleavage, if he payed enough attention, he'd be able to see that she was in fact, not wearing any bra. Coming back up, Y/N looked over to see the results, smirking when the agape mouth of Yeosang confirmed to her that he had indeed noticed everything.

"Oh sweetheart, you're gonna be too easy..." She had already made up in her mind that Yeosang would be her next target, and she had to put her plan in action. Placing the brochures down, she was about to go over and start flirting with him, until a familiar voice called for her.

"Y/N! There you are!"

She internally groaned when she heard him, wondering why on earth did he not get the hint of ditching him like that, especially when he very well knew about the reputation she had. She tried ignoring him, but of course, he had had to be the persistent type, no doubt thinking he was going to have a different ending than the rest before him.

"I thought you'd be here. You could have told me you were going to be gone early. I would have made you breakfast."

Knowing she had to say something, Y/N grabbed her pad and gave him the fakest smile she was capable of donning.

"Hi, what can we get started for you today? Waffles? Eggs and bacon? Coffee to start off with?"

The trio of friends, having no choice but to witness the interaction due to it happening right in front of them, snickered amongst themselves.

"Oh shit. He's in for it." San whispered lowly.

The boy obviously looked extremely confused, his smile lightly falling off, but then returning to its hopeful state.

"Why are you acting like this candy bear? Pretending like you don't know me?" When he tried to reach a hand to pull her close, the girl simply pushed him away with one of her fingers.

"Look, clearly you're too stupid to understand so let me spell it out in a language you can understand." Letting out a tired sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, a sour look displaying on her pretty face.

"We had a nice time together, and last night was... average to put it nicely."

"Oh man. That was a total burn." Mingi couldn't help but snort, some of the orange juice being spit back into his glass.

"But that was all it was and all it's ever going to be. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just go back home to your Star Trek figurines and watch the latest episode of Thunder Cats?"

The not so discreet snickering coming from the table behind them only made the humiliation for the man multiply significantly. Turning red with utter despair and rage, he quickly brushed past Y/N rather brusquely.

"Fucking bitch." She heard him mutter under his breath, a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing among many others.

"Oh god. Homegirl struck again." Wooyoung laughed, swirling his milkshake in his hand.

"Ayo why you gotta do Thunder Cats like that? It's actually pretty entertaining." San commented.

Looking over at the time, the guys quickly stood up, dropping their share of bills onto the table.

"You guys get paid today too right? Come meet up with us at the track." Wooyoung suggested.

"Why on earth would we want to go see your greasy, oil smelling ass after dealing for nearly an hour with you already?" Lynn questioned him, eyes never peering up from her magazine.

"Because Yunho would be there?"

Still she didn't respond, the only movement made was her finger turning the page.

"Bro we been knew she don't give two shits about him." Mingi reminded them.

"Because we're going to the drive in theater after work, they're playing a horror movie."

Lifting her gaze, Lynn closed the magazine, although still stone faced, her eyes seemed to brighten up.

"My interest has been greatly piqued." Her lips showed the faintest whisper of a smile that gave a rather eerie and chilling feel down the people's spines.

"Maybe we should rethink inviting Satan's offspring." San leaned in towards Mingi, shivering significantly.

"Great! So we'll catch you gals later."

The boys quickly dispersed themselves, save Yeosang who still sat quietly, keeping mostly to himself. His fingers fidgeted with the half drunk cup he was holding, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. Looking up, he was attempting to work up the courage to talk to Y/N, but before he could even get the chance to gather strength, the owner came out from the back, whispering a few orders to her and gesturing for her to go tend to a situation in the kitchen. With a defeated sigh, he got up to go join the rest of the gang outside who were waiting for him. Slumping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he moved out of the booth with a solemn gaze.

"Hey."

His steps came to a screeching halt when he heard Y/N call out to him. Looking over, she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Hope I see you later." With a flirtatious wink, she bid him goodbye as she disappeared into the back.

Yeosang stood there stunned momentarily, replaying her words over and over again in his mind, pondering endlessly at their meaning.

"Little pussy cat sure got you brain dead, didn't she?"

Startled by the unexpected voice next to him, he jumped when the face of the kind yet stern old lady studied him carefully. With a disapproving shake of her head, she decided it'd be best to warn him before he started getting ideas in his head.

"Listen, you seem like a sweet and sensible young man, so it's best for you to listen to me and stay away from that darn girl. Don't let them sugar coated lips of hers sweet talk themselves into your heart. You'll just end up heart broken like all the lovers she's had."

Picking up some of the plates, she gave him one last look, pointing an accusatory finger at him to get her point across.

"She's dangerous." Finally saying what she needed to say, Miss Audrey headed back with plates in her arms, slapping away Lynn's hands when they attempted to pry them off her, barking instructions at her to watch the counter and leave her be.

"Dangerous....." Yeosang thought to himself, the warning the good intended woman gave him sinking deep in his mind. Although he took her words to heart, something about the way she glanced at him pulled at the strings in his chest, taking his breath away when he remembered the risque position she was in that purposely allowed him to view more than he should have. That memory tinted his cheeks pink, lips unable to suppress a small smile. He knew that he should heed the old woman's advice.

But he had to admit that he loved danger and the thrill it came with.........

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Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @brie02 @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @deja-vux @hanatiny @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @ateezbabysitters @mingismoon @rainteez02

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imagine-it-to-be-true · 3 years

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Fix You - Caius Volturi x FemOC Three Shot: Part 2

Hey guys! So, originally, this story was supposed to be a One-shot. But because of the overwhelming amount of requests I’ve received (thank you so much sweeties, by the way), I’ve decided to make it into a three parter. This is part 2, and the first part can be found on my blog. I’m not sure when I get around to writing part 3 as uni starts back up today, but I’ll try my best not to keep you in suspense for too long. This part is more centred around chaos than romance. Nothing belongs to me (including the GIF) Also, warnings: violence, blood, death.

Andromeda’s POV

The sensations were weird. First, I had been in a lot of pain around my stomach region. I could hardly breathe, let alone express my pain to the handsome-yet-creepy, blonde stranger taking care of me. Though I’m sure he knew. I mean, even I knew I was dying, and he was helpless to save me, so I didn’t bother speaking. I could see the concern in his eyes and hear his sweet whisperings as he stroked my cheeks and wiped away my tears. But these little comforts were not enough to stop the hurt. Then, when I saw him holding a huge syringe, it sent me into panic mode. I never liked needles, not to mention ones which were about to inject unfamiliar liquids into me. But he reassured me it would help, which calmed me down. Not like I could defend myself in that moment anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt me more. It turned out he was right. After a few minutes, I noticed the pain slowly going away. Maybe it wasn’t the liquid, but the fast-approaching release of death, I wasn’t sure. My cries began to slow, and I could feel more pleasant sensations, such as the pale man stroking my hand with his thumb, gently massaging circles into it. Then, he asked,

“What is your name, omorfiá mou?”

Gasping for air, I attempted to speak,

“Andromeda,” came my whispered reply. With my half-opened eyes, I was able to see his perfect lips draw up in a smile. Focusing on his features, I didn’t even realize that my pain was entirely gone, and I was feeling rather loopy. I watched the man bend down closer to me, brushing my hair back and running his ice-cold knuckles down the side of my neck. Suddenly I felt a sense of vulnerability. I felt his cool breath hitting my ear as he whispered,

“Do not be afraid. You will live forever. You are mine now, and I will never let anything hurt you again.” I was confused and fear began to resurface. I had gotten away from one creep, only to be taken by another. This man scared me to my core. But before I could dwell on my thoughts, I saw him quickly lean down towards my neck, as if he was about to kiss me. That was not what happened.

Indeed, I momentarily felt his cool lips touch the sensitive skin of my neck. But then a sharp pain erupted. Whatever it was that he injected into me was definitely helping. I was aching again, though differently this time. It was a dull, electrifying, fiery sensation, which immediately spread from my neck to my brain, and all the way down to the tips of my toes. My body was on fire, but it was not as intense. If one were to be scratched over and over and over again, pain would increase. This was what I was going through. It was continuous and that was making it worse. An hour had passed, then two, then I lost count. I couldn’t see anything anymore, my vision clouded. Yet I could still hear him. He never seemed to leave. Others would come and go. Time would pass and I would feel needles in my arms. I assume he kept injecting me with whatever it was, which managed my pain; probably morphine. I learned his name was Caius from others who had come in and spoken to him. Caius. What an unusual name. But it fit him.

He had injected so much morphine into me that the dull burning sensation eventually stopped. That, or perhaps I adjusted to it. I could not tell how much time had passed, but by now, it had been a while, for sure. I had given up. If it were not for his constant voice, and feeling of his icy hands touching my own, I would have believed I passed on. But eventually, my vision slowly began to return. I hadn’t felt injections in hours, and no pain returned, which was strange.

The entire time I lay there, presumably dying, I thought of my life. Who would miss me? I had no parents. Both died in a car crash when I was 12. I was in the back seat and miraculously survived. Given no time to adjust to the tragedy, I was immediately placed in a foster home in New Haven, where I experienced endless amounts of bullying. But as with all foster children, my stay was temporary. For the next five years, I bounced from one home to the next. This made me reserved, quiet, and untrusting. I was socially awkward and had very few friends. My main comforts came from the company of animals. Truthfully, I got used to this solitary existence, finding that I expressed myself better through storytelling than the spoken word. In fact, my unfortunate childhood did not impact my standing at school. I was always a good student, and this landed me a fully paid scholarship to NYU where I completed a double degree in journalism and history. The lack of family and friends allowed me to dedicate all my time to my studies and work, which was conducting research for my professor. Then, after graduating, I decided to make a drastic change and start fresh with a move to Europe. For the last two years, I had spent my time travelling several countries and writing articles on historical artifacts, buildings, and churches. I sold my stories to networks as a freelance historical journalist, living alone and moving often from place to place. In fact, Volterra was my last stop in Europe before I planned to relocate to Egypt and focus on Pharaonic history there. Not many of Volterra’s tourists knew about the building I had been photographing, which was off the main street and down an alleyway. It was not glamorous, but historic, which drove me to it. That is where I was and what I was doing when I was suddenly grabbed and dragged into a dark alleyway.

My life had been flashing before my eyes over and over again. I wanted to live. To do better. To be better. I was sick of being alone. So, when my vision began returning, I was filled with motivation to live. Really live. Finally, I could focus my eyes. I stared up at what appeared to be a bed canopy. It was velvet, and dark red in color. To my right, I could sense the smell of burning candles. It was so prominent that it made my nose burn. My hands were balled into fists, grasping the cotton sheets and I could see that I ripped holes in them. How much pain was I in that I ripped a bedsheet with my bare hands? I then noticed something strange. I was not breathing. Since when was I not breathing? This frightened me immensely, and I bolted into an upright sitting position. As I did, the bed violently shook. The canopy swayed as if it would collapse at any second. Did I do this? I’m a weak little girl who couldn’t even fight off a drunk man in an alleyway, how was I doing all this? I heard a sound to my left and immediately snapped my head towards the source. It was a young woman – girl more like it – that I did not recognize. She had strange red eyes, much like my rescuer. But she frightened me more than him. There was a certain evil surrounding her, I could sense it. How, I did not know. All I knew was that she did not wish me well.

“Hello, Andromeda.” She spoke coolly.

I looked at her, suspicion and confusion painted over my face.

“H-how do you know my name?”

“Master Caius told me.”

‘Master?’ that sounded strange. Not something a girl would call a man. What was this, a sex trafficking operation? Before I could speak, she continued.

“He has been by your side. He will return any minute now. He went out hunting for you.” She spoke like an information-giving robot: just spewing facts, unmoving, her expression unchanging.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Hunting… that’s not necessary. I- I don’t eat meat.” Her expression finally changed. Her smirk transformed into a creepy smile, and she let out a laugh.

“Believe me, dear girl. It is not exactly meat he will be returning with.” She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. Two guards opened the bedroom door for her and shut it as she left. So, they have my room guarded. I guess they aren’t going to let me leave.

I was not in a hurry; I needed to see Caius. Thank him. And ask him how he was able to fix me. Was I remembering correctly that he bit me?! What a strange thing to do. I looked down on my stomach, which was completely injury-free. Then, I reached my hand to the back of my neck, trying to feel any bitemarks there. Nothing. What the hell? I did not understand. I had a lot of questions and needed answers, the most pressing of which was why my throat was on fire. I would have asked the girl, but something in me yelled to keep my distance from her; that she was dangerous. Slowly, I stood up from the bed, noticing that the white dress I had on when I was shot was no longer on me. Instead, I wore a soft, white nightgown, with lace on the collar. It seemed like a typical garment from Tudor England, or something. It was unlike anything I had seen in any mall or shop. Come to think of it, the entire room had a historic, gothic feel to it. The décor resembled a royal palace.

My feet hit the marble floor and I began walking around the room, making my way to the bookshelf. There, a massive assortment of books awaited. However, they were not the typical books one would find in a normal home. These were all historic and ancient. I picked up a copy of the Iliad. Looking at the bindings, I could tell the book was old. More interestingly, it was still written in Homeric Greek – not a language many would be able to read. Whoever this belongs to was most definitely smart.

Suddenly, I felt the burning in my throat worsen. The sensation intensified to the point where I was nearly panicking. Ready to run for the doors and ask the guards for help, I heard footsteps approaching.

The door swung open, and the man… Caius walked in. No longer dying, I could properly admire his features. He looked perfect, truly. Not a single flaw on his face or skin. His nearly white, blonde hair carefully combed back behind his ears. He moved towards where I was sat in an armchair and knelt in front of me. Immediately, I was filled with a calmness. It was like I was home. I cannot describe it completely, but it was as if all problems were erased, and I was safe. This was the second time I managed to judge a person based on feelings, all within the last few minutes. First with the young woman from earlier, and now Caius. Before he could speak, the feeling was gone, and replaced once again with unease and danger, as I watched the young woman reappear, dragging a man by his wrist. Behind her, the guards entered the room and stood on either side of the man. I could feel that he was not dangerous, as the fear was practically radiating off him. The woman stepped behind him and gave him a push towards me.

“Dinner,” she stated coldly. I looked from her to the frightened man, to Caius. I could see annoyance on his face, as he turned to her and spoke.

“Must you, Jane? Do you not know of patience?”

“Forgive me, Master Caius. You were not one to show patience often, and I do learn from you.” She stated simply.

When Caius turned to me, I was grasping my throat, which was burning almost unbearably. “What is happening?!” I choked out.

“I know this will not make sense to you right now, and I will explain everything, I promise. But the only thing that will stop the ache is if you drink blood. You need to drink this man’s blood.” Caius whispered to me, out of earshot of the poor man.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes, face in complete and utter shock.

“WHAT?! What did you just say?!” I exclaimed, not believing what I heard.

He sighed and leaned in once again, whispering. “In order to save your life from your injuries, I was forced to turn you into a vampire. You need blood, and you need it now. Trust me.” He tried again.

“I WILL NOT! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” Hastily standing, I pushed him away. My intention was to give him a normal, hard push so that he gets the message. But nothing prepared me for what happened. When I pushed him, he went flying across the room and hitting a marble column, which shattered on impact. Immediately, the room was filled with noise and dust as the column went crashing down around him. I pushed myself into the corner of the room and watched in terror. That impact would have killed an elephant. Yet Caius, simply rose, brushing dust off his blazer and pants. The evil woman – Jane as he called her – appeared emotionless as she turned her attention from Caius to me.

“Fine. More for us then,” she said. What followed, was simply too much for me to handle.

First, I heard Caius yelling, “Jane, NO!” In one swift motion, she tore the frightened man’s throat with her teeth. Blood gushed out from the wound, spilling all over the white marble floor. I screamed in terror. But what was even more terrifying than the poor man’s death, was the smell of his blood. It was driving me crazy. It was like nothing I had ever experienced it. I craved it. Needed it. And was so close to taking it all for myself. But with any remaining strength I had left, I stopped myself. This was not me. I was a vegetarian because I cared for the well-being of animals. There was not a thing in the world which would force me to do anything to harm another living soul. So, I curled up in a ball in my corner and rocked back and forth, trying to focus my senses on anything other than the delicious smell of blood.

“I will deal with you later. Take him and leave, now!” I heard Caius’ voice. “You are not to come here again; you are not to see her! Now go!”

“Yes, Master Caius.” I heard her disgusting, venomous voice once again as she left. The doors closed and the room was filled with silence.

I momentarily thought Caius left too, but then I felt the sensation of safety return to me.

“How did I do that?” I ask with a shaking voice.

“You are a new vampire. For the first few weeks, you will be stronger than the rest of us. This will pass, and you will adjust.” He said gently.

I continued hugging my knees and rocking. Caius continued.

“This is not how a newborn should experience the first moments. But Andromeda…” he hesitated, “You need to feed. If you do not, it will only get worse. Your awareness will seize to function, and you will eventually kill more than you would have otherwise.”

With no response from me, Caius reached for my hands, placing his own over them. This woke a rage inside of me. I grasped his wrists and pushed him backwards. His back hit the wall, not as hard this time. I began speaking.

“You did this to me. You made me this… this… monster. This is on you. You should have let me die. Now, because of your selfish need for heroism, I will murder countless others.”

We both rose to our feet. He gently approached me again, saying my name, but I held my hand up to block him. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again. I hate you.”

With that, I pushed him towards the direction of the door. He paused,

“Andromeda-”

“GET OUT!” I picked up a glass vase and threw it in his direction, and he finally left. I sat down on the cold marble tiles, pressing my back against the wall, and screamed in agony.

#caius volturi #caius #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #volturi #volturi imagine #oneshot requests #oneshots #vampire #love #romance #hurt comfort #jane volturi

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

Dean Winchester: Embrace (Request)

*Not my gif*

Paring: Dean X Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: comfort from dean, hunt gone wrong, reader crying, LOTS OF HUGS, mentions of Sam (Briefly)

Summary: The reader come back from a hunt gone very wrong, and all she want is to be in Dean’s arms tonight. Once she makes it to the bunker, she falls into dean’s arms, not being able to keep it together anymore.

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Tag list: @akshi8278, @deanswaywardgirl

This was supposed to be an easy hunt. One and done type of thing, but that ended shortly after I got to the motel. Dean and Sam already out on a hunt, I decide that it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I went out on my own.

Shooting Dean, a quick message. “Dean, there’s a hunt about an hour away from the bunker. It involves kids, so I’m packed up and leaving in 5. Love Ya.” I sent the message stuffing my phone in my back pocket.

Buzzing I pulled it out seeing a message from Dean “Ugh, I wish you weren’t going by yourself, but I understand it involves kids. Be safe and text me when you get to the motel. Love Ya sweetheart.” Well, that had gone by much easier than previously thought.

So, throwing my bag in the passenger seat of on the many cars I drove off to the motel. According to the article children were going missing in the local town. The thought of so many parents being scared and missing their children was eating at me, so I thought I’d at least try to help.

Quickly I learned that kids were disappearing, most disappeared near an old shut down mental asylum. Something about kids and wanting to search places that clearly had “DO NOT ENTER” signs on them.

It was still early in the afternoon so I made my way over to the parents of the latest missing child. They wore worried expression on their faces as they say the quick flip of the F.B.I badge.

In short, they had said that their son had gone out with a few of his friends. Riding bikes and being a destructive teenage boy. For a few moments the image of Dean being that way crossed my mind, internal smiling at the thought.

I had figured that it was probably a ghost based on the rather odd story the parents retold me. Saying that their son had told them about how the light were flickering and, all the sudden it was really cold in the asylum. It’s the middle of summer, so cold spots are definitely more prominent.

When I made it back to the motel, I made quick work of trying to figure out where the old mental asylum was, grabbing way to cups of coffee, and junk food from the vending machines I worked until at least twelve in the morning.

I hadn’t ever realized how much the Sam and Dean’s help was. It was nice to have a tech nerd at your disposal, and a heater next to you in bed every night. Once I had fallen asleep at the dirty small kitchen table in the motel, I thought it best to move to the bed and text Dean.

“Hey baby, I made to the motel a while ago. You know me got caught up in trying to help. Fell asleep trying to research going to sleep now. Good night baby, Love Ya.” I sent before plugging it in to its charger and falling into a deep sleep.

When I awake the next morning, I looked over to my phone seeing a new message from Dean. “Sleep well sweetheart. We will be home today, keep me in the loop. Can’t wait to see you.” He messaged with a winky face at the end.

Rolling my eyes, I got out of the crappy, not memory foam bed. Hearing the slightly creaks and cracks of my bones. Thinking that it would probably useless if i grabbed a shower before going on a hunt, so I opted to grab one of deans stolen flannels, my pants, and my boots.

Once I was officially ready for the day, I went right back into researching. Finally, hours later I had found an old document that just so happened to have to the address of the mental asylum.

It was a picture of a few nurses, a doctor standing proud in the back, and a gaggle of children in front of the nurses. Around the doctors' neck hung a stethoscope. It read at the bottom of the picture

‘Doctor Ethan Zingler, Nurse Betty, Nurse Lewis, Nurse Andrea, with the many mentally insane children. Doctor Zingler holding his prized possession his stethoscope.’ “Fuck yes” I screamed. Damn that was dumb luck.

Quickly grabbing the car keys, I slammed the motel door, making my way over to the car. Again, I shot him another text, “Alright, found the address for this place. Should be an easy fix. Be home soon, Love Ya.” Sending it before starting to pull out of the parking lot.

When I made it to the mental asylum, the gates lock was broken making it much easier for me. Making my way into the mental asylum it was quiet, giving me an uneasy feeling. A scream grabbing my attention, but when I made it their nothing, nothing was there.

As I walked around more, trying to find these lost kids. Turning around at one point, I saw a figure of a decomposed older women. Her white nurses outfit torn at her heart, all the sudden instead of staring at me she was full speed running.

Cutting into one room I lost her, standing there for a minute. Re thinking everything that I looked up, and the parents had told me. It clicked it was ghosts, they were ghouls. This means that everything I had on me wasn’t going to work.

Hearing the should of many children screaming at once, I ran towards it. I saw the Doctor his stethoscope wrapped around the necks of one of the children, I ran in trying to get a shot in, but before I could I had they two other nurses hold me down, one trying to stick me with a needle. The other had her very decade hand around my neck.

I watched every single missing child be killed in front of my eyes, once the doctor was done, he turned looking at the two nurses. They let me go and he slow staked over to me, his hand covering my mouth. I reached down in a quick and swift motion grabbing a long machete knife I had attached to the loops of my pants. In two swift movements I sliced the heads of the nurses off. Looking over at the once respected doctor I chopped his head, it landing on the ground.

Swiping the blade over my thigh, I slipped it back into its case. I walked out of the asylum flipping it the finger. Getting into the car, it was starting to hit me, that I had watched at least 3 kids murdered in front of me. I was here to fix this, to bring them home safely.

I drove, no music, no running thoughts in my mind. I just drove, when I finally made it back to the motel, I grabbed a quick shower, trying to wipe away the images of them dying, trying not to cry. “Y/n you’re a big girl. You’re a hunter, fuck you’re with a Winchester get it together.” I said to myself.

“Hey baby, how is everything? I haven't heard anything in a while. Sam says that I should stop worrying, but you’re my girl. Text me back please.” Dean messaged me.

Climbing out of the bathroom, I grabbed my phone, my arms barely keeping the towel wrapped around my chest. “Everything is fine. I’m okay honey. I will be home tops 2 hours, Love Ya.” I sent him back.

If I broke down now, here, I’d never be able to leave. I need to get dress, I need to get home, I need Dean, now. Wrapping another stolen Dean flannel around me, I could just barely smell his leather, and whiskey cologne on his shirt, I pulled up my sweats.

Grabbing the rest of my stuff, and throw it into the passenger seat. I walked down to the front desk; I gave to women her keys back. Starting the engine to the car this time I turned the radio on, finding a station that reminded me of Dean. “80′s rock coming your way. Now playing ‘AC/DC Back in black” Taking a deep inhale I back out and drove down the street, radio blasting and windows down.

“Can’t wait to see you sweetheart!” Dean sent a message as I inched closer and closer to the bunker. Finally, I slowed down and drove down the darkly lite drive way that led to the bunkers garage. As I inched closer, I started to break down, I didn’t want to be a disappointment. I didn’t want Dean, or Sam to see me as a failure.

I could feel the prickle of tears wanting to escape from my eyes, but shook my head and pushed them back in. As I parked the car, I only grabbed my phone, not really in the mood to look or see anything hunting wise.

Slowly I made my way to the garage door. Stopping as my hand made contact with the cold handle. I reached for a deep breathe, and opened the door. Conversation still going on, I walked past the library hearing both Sam and Dean call my name.

But the idea of facing them, after everything was too much. I heard the scratch of the wooden chair against the floor. I walked into Deans and I shared room, plopping onto the memory foam bed.

I heard the bedroom door, slowly open “Y/n?” Dean’s voice bounced off the cinder block room. “Y/n? Are you okay?” He said shutting our bedroom door. “Y/n? Are you hurt? If you’re hurt, I can fix you up, but... but you’ve got to tell me.” He said coming closer to me.

My breathing becoming harder for me to control. Deans hand landing on my hips first. “Y/n please look at me. You’re scaring me.” I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved quickly making Dean lose a bit of balance before his hand wrapped around my mid-section.

A breath that I didn’t realize I was holding came out, “It’s okay, you can just cry. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Dean said rubbing circles into my back. “You’ve got me Y/n. You just tell me what happened okay, let me known that us Winchester deal making didn’t rub off on you.” He said a little chuckle at the end.

“De... Dean I’m so stupid. I let 5 kids die because I di... didn’t know what I was hunting. I watched the gho..uls kill them. De... Dean Please just hold me. Please don’t thi.. think of me any different.” I said, a few hiccups interrupting me from finishing my sentences.

I felt Dean take a deep inhale, before speaking, “Damn, Y/n why.. You know what you’re so resilient, so brave, you’re no where to being stupid. Me and Sam got the covered for you. It’s okay, I’m so fucking sorry that I wasn’t with you, I’m sorry, but I’m tell you’

He said pulling me away from his shoulder. Lightly touching my chin, bring my attention to him. Our eye making contact. ‘Y/n I’m telling you that you couldn’t have done anything more then you did. You’re an amazing hunter, an amazing person, you’re prefect Y/n. I don’t to ever hear you say that you’re stupid, or that you think me or Sam will think of you differently because we just won’t. I love you baby” Dean said.

I reached up to kiss lips, a small, sparked filled kissed. It was as if that kiss was an okay for me. The okay that Dean was being true with me. “Dean, can.. can we just lay together please? I don’t want to let you go just yet” I asked.

He gave me short smile, and shook his head ‘yes’. “I love you, sweetheart. Get some rest.” He said kissing my temple, “Love Ya too De.” I said before the tiredness of crying and the beat of Dean’s heart lulled me into a deep and warm sleep.

Completed 02/27/2021

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #dean x female!reader #deangirl #request

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lyselkatzhappynerding · 3 years

Video

youtube

Richard Speight Jr's speech at the All Heroes Monument in Tonawanda

A couple of articles in full in case you have trouble accessing the links without a VPN:

Article by Peter Gallivan

BUFFALO, N.Y. — On June 6th, 1944, Warren "Skip" Muck was one of hundreds of American servicemen who dropped into Normandy to force Adolf Hitler's army out of France and beat them back to Germany.

On January 10, 1944, the City of Tonawanda native was killed in a foxhole in Foy, Belgium at the Battle of the Bulge. For decades, his family back here in Western New York had few details about his service and the day he died. That all changed with a simple phone call according to his niece, Becky Krurnowski. Becky says her mother, Skip's sister, got off of a call back in 2001 with more questions than answers. "She said there's an actor trying to get a hold of me, and something with Tom Hanks. They want to make a movie."

As it turned out, the actor was Richard Speight, researching for his upcoming role in "A Band of Brothers." Becky and her sister began a series of emails back and forth with the actor, telling him stories of Skip growing up, such as the time he swam across the Niagara River. Speight then took the stories to the writers and all of the sudden what was a bit began to grow, and Skip Muck became a series regular.

Krurnowski adds that this 75th anniversary of the Normandy invasion will have special meaning to her, taking her back to the world premiere of "A Band of Brothers"— one she attended as a guest of the studio, on Omaha Beach, Normandy.

Krurnowski says until Episode 7, they had no idea exactly how Muck had died. It showed him sharing a foxhole with one of his best friends, Alex Penkala, when they took a direct hit from a German canon shell. Becky says her mom found comfort in knowing that Skip was with his men and with his friends when he lost his life.

Lou Michel article from the Buffalo News

Saluting 'unbelievable sacrifices' Monument honors local ties to "Saving Private Ryan" and "Band of Brothers"

As some area veterans know, the story lines of two epic movies about World War II - "Saving Private Ryan" and "Band of Brothers" -- center on two local families.

Now the memories of those World War II soldiers will be enshrined along the banks of the Niagara River in the City of Tonawanda.

That's because the four Niland brothers, whose story helped inspire "Saving Private Ryan," and Sgt. Warren H. "Skip" Muck, a central figure in "Band of Brothers," hailed from Tonawanda.

An Amherst couple, Rick and Lisa Lewis, donated $150,000 for the multistone monument to pay special tribute to the Nilands and Muck for their sacrifices.

"There will be one stone for each family, and etched on the stones will be the stories of the Niland brothers and Skip Muck," said Rick Lewis, whose family lived nearly a century in Tonawanda and became prominent when it owned the Talking Phone Book.

In the center of the veterans memorial plaza, which will be dedicated Saturday, will be a 10-foot-tall granite replica of the Washington Monument with a tribute to all other City of Tonawanda veterans from various wars.

"This will be in Niawanda Park directly behind City Hall, and at night it will be prominently illuminated, and I believe it will become a signature landmark for the City of Tonawanda," Lewis said.

The story about the Niland brothers is well known in some veteran circles.

On June 6, 1944, at the start of the Normandy invasion, Michael I. and Augusta Niland received the first of three telegrams that three of their four sons were missing in action. Two other telegrams soon followed, notifying the parents that two more sons were missing.

Their fourth son, Sgt. Frederick W. "Fritz" Niland, an Army paratrooper, was participating in the invasion.

War Department officials wasted no time ordering Fritz Niland out of the combat zone, once his whereabouts were determined. It was that effort that inspired the basic storyline of Steven Spielberg's 1998 movie starring Tom Hanks and Matt Damon.

The other Niland brothers were not as fortunate. Tech. Sgt. Robert J. Niland perished on the day of the invasion, and the next day, Lt. Preston T. Niland died. The third missing brother, Tech. Sgt. Edward F. Niland, was shot down over Burma and captured by the Japanese. He survived 11 months as a prisoner of war.

As for Muck, he became famous posthumously, with his story told in the best-selling book, "Band of Brothers," and later in the HBO cable network movie miniseries of the same name.

Muck was a member of Company E, 506th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, and one of about a dozen main characters. The story told of how the soldiers, first meeting in paratrooper school, became like a family.

"They banded together because they were up against so many hardships. That's why they called themselves the Band of Brothers. If any got injured, they would go to the hospital, get patched up and want to be back with their guys," said Becky Krurnowski, a 55-year-old niece of Muck.

In her City of Tonawanda home, she has a reminder of her uncle, who was killed Jan. 10, 1945, during the Battle of the Bulge.

"A million years ago, my mother gave me the American flag that had covered my uncle's coffin," Krurnowski said. "It's been in my family room for about 20 years now on display."

Adding a sense of irony, Lewis said, is the fact that Skip Muck and Fritz Niland were best friends before going off to war.

"The sacrifices made by the Muck and Niland families in Tonawanda are just unbelievable," said Thomas Beilein, a Niland family cousin and former sheriff of Niagara County who now serves as head of the State Commission on Correction.

"As children, we didn't hear stories about the sacrifices. The family never talked about it. They never held it out there for the world to see. They didn't wear it on their sleeve," said Beilein.

The monument will be officially unveiled at 11 a.m. Saturday with members of the Niland and Muck families present. Surviving members of the Band of Brothers, all around 90 years of age, are scheduled to travel here from different parts of the country to attend.

The actor who played Skip Muck, Richard Speight Jr., will also attend and speak at the dedication.

A military flyover and reception are also planned, and HBO has agreed to provide free showings of Band of Brothers after the ceremony in the nearby Riviera Theatre on Webster Street, North Tonawanda.

Pete Niland, son of the late Edward Niland, also is scheduled to speak at the ceremony.

"I'm going to especially thank Rick and Lisa Lewis, who are sponsoring this, and I'm going to make mention that this is an honor not only to our family but to all the Tonawanda families who sacrificed, and there were a number of them," said Niland.

Lewis said he and his wife have wanted to honor the two families for years and put a spotlight on the City of Tonawanda.

"The area has been very good to my family, and we're anxious to do some things for the community," said Lewis, who organized a special committee a year ago with City of Tonawanda Mayor Ronald Pilozzi and representatives from several veterans groups, including Post 264, American Legion.

Pilozzi, a Vietnam veteran who was awarded a Bronze Star with Valor and a Purple Heart, says he feels a special closeness for the monument.

"One of the reasons I'm so proud of it is I was in the 101st Airborne Division in Vietnam," Pilozzi said, explaining that Muck and a Niland family member were in the 101st.

The 101st faced its toughest assignment during the Battle of Bastogne, one of the more famous encounters against the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge.

"The 101st Airborne was completely encircled and cut off by the Germans, but they made their stand and held out long enough for Gen. [George S.] Patton to come in and relieve them and basically defeat the Nazis," Pilozzi said of the division's bravery.

Describing himself as an amateur historian for the modest working-class City of Tonawanda, Lewis said the memorial will ensure that no one ever forgets the sacrifices and bravery demonstrated by the deceased relatives of the Niland and Muck families.

The City of Tonawanda has a tremendous history of which it can be very, very proud," he said. "I still have family members there and consider myself an amateur historian of the city."

The monument, Lewis explained, is designed with enough open space to add additional stones in the future, should Tonawanda want to honor other veterans.

The monument was chiseled and inscribed by Stone Art Memorial Co. of Lackawanna. The grayish colored granite was quarried in Maine.

#skip muck #warren muck #the niland brothers #band of brothers #saving private ryan #richard speight jr #niland brothers #wwii #history #memorial

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misskittysmagicportal · 3 years

Text

I’m A Creep

Fandom: The Messenger Jack x Rin Davies

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: suicide discussion, oral sex, penetration, mention of masturbation, angsty whomp because OOOOF is Jack a Whomp!character

Note: The events of this fic contain spoilers for those of you who havent seen The Messenger. It takes place after the end of the movie. Read at your own risk if you haven’t seen it! If you want it’s free on Tubi :)

Present Day:

Jack stood beside Rin in the dead of night watching her sleep for just a moment. Only a moment because she roused the instant she sensed him breathe. Sitting up, she quickly reached inside the nightstand. He knew her routine, Rin was impulsive about making sure her leather motorcycle gloves were on before she let him in.

Jack wordlessly pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his sweatpants and boxers.

Rin lifted her covers and opened her legs to him. Obliging, Jack lowered himself onto her showering her neck with kisses. His tongue and lips trailing down along her collarbone, erection hard against her thigh. A hand found its way under Rin’s t-shirt and over a naked breast where he pinched at a nipple.

“Jack,” she was breathless. “Stop. Don't touch my skin, please.”

Jack pushed himself up by the arms, “How is this enjoyable to you, duck?” A northern term of endearment. “My thighs ah touchin’ you aren't they?” The moonlight caught his eyes as he teased her with the head of his cock. “What about this, inside you?” Suggestively whispered.

Rin moaned but held her cool. “It’s not the same. Like you said, that's inside. It's just my.. skin. From my..” her voice trailed off.

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckkin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed her. Tongue pushing inside of Rin, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered, just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me”

--------

Several Weeks Before:

Rin sat alone at a center table in the middle of the visitation room. This wasn’t her first rodeo, probably won’t be her last. She flexed her hands outwards the leather of her gloves cracking and flexing in a satisfying manner. No one was going to come and see her. Besides, the solitude allowed her to quietly spy on all the other nutters around the room.

Just to her left Rin noticed a pretty redheaded woman and her son as they sat across from probably the most attractive guy ever in an institution. There was a tenseness to the way he sat, shoulders hunched and hands between his legs. His hair unruly and a blank stare that wasn’t really focusing on- she came to realize- his sister and nephew. Rin knew him from group therapy where he was equally quiet, eyes glassy from a psych med cocktail. The majority of his speaking hours tucked away in that overbearing therapist’s office.

“Jack, will you please just look at me?” his sister, Emma tried her best to reach out to her brother. “I.. I think Martin and I made a mistake.”

Jack only stared straight ahead between Emma and his nephew, Billy. The preteen looked uncomfortable and scared as his mother nudged him softly. “It's ok. Billy tell Uncle Jack.”

“I did, Mom” , his voice quiet. “I'm supposed to say no. That you should get me help before it's too late.” Rin watched as Billy folded his arms and laid his head down. “Only I can't. It's all night and day, Jack. I can't sleep because they don't have you.”

“Best leave him here with me then, Emma.” It was the first time anyone heard Jack speak in weeks. His sister had a posh accent, so Rin was surprised when Yorkshire dripped from his lips. “For good, right?”

“That's not fair. You are sick, Jack. You weren't caring for yourself. You.. you got too involved with that murder. You were hurting yourself,” Emma struggled with tears. “I want to take you home.”

“Oh like I'm some kind of fookin dog? Emma you and Martin made it clear I belong here. She's right, maybe it was all dad. That's traumatic you know.”

“You deserve someplace warm! A home. Please, Jack. I found this in your things.” She slid a newspaper clipping towards her brother. “That's the boy who drowned. Why.. why didn't you tell me?”

“Loads of kids drown in pools,” Jack stated bluntly with a shrug. “Why should your pool be any different?”

“I never said it was our pool.”

“I recognized the address in the article”

“Jack, it's from two years ago.”

“I got lucky. Ah we doon here? I have walls to stare at. Here Billy you can have this back,” from between his knees he produced a glass paperweight with a scorpion inside. “Tell all ya mates Crazy Uncle Jack sends his loov”

Jack tried to stand but Emma grabbed his arm. This was Rin’s cue to swoop in. She swiftly moved from her table to theirs.

“JACKIE!’ I've been looking for you everywhere!” His eyes panicking in her direction. “I'm Wren,” she took her glove off and reached a scarred hand in Emma's direction. “But my brother couldn't say it so you can call me Rin” She smiled brightly.

Emma tentatively shook Rin’s hand, smiling in turn. Rin took a moment as her mind’s eye zoned in on what was inside of Jack’s sister. It was a loneliness, a desperation to take care of her little brother but protect her son from the same fate. But most importantly Rin felt a small tingling of warmth from somewhere deep inside of Emma’s heart. It was white and pure and instantly recognizable as hope. Even though it was tiny it was growing and starting to spread, and Rin knew Emma was eager to share that with her brother.

“Wow,” Rin blurted, “I wish my brother was as invested in me as you are. You’re a good person, Emma. Trust me,” she winked. “Woman’s intuition.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and studied the crazed looking woman standing between her and Jack. The scars on Rin’s hand raised some alarms, but Emma ignored them. She omitted a relief and let go, “Well thank you. Can you talk some sense into my brother?”

Moments later, with the visitors gone, Rin sat down in Emma’s place. “Thank you is a start,” she teased Jack.

He rolled his eyes and slowly turned in her direction to face her dead on. The intensity of his eyes took Rin by surprise. “Thank you,” the sarcasm poured like a waterfall.

Rin took off her other glove. “Now, Mr-”

“Jack is fine.”

“Jack. Tell me,” Rin feigned a German accent, “Und why do zey sink you are crazy.”

He blinked slowly.

“You got sectioned. What bullshit excuse did they force you to believe? Because it seems like Lovely Emma is desperate to get you out, and we know how hard that is.”

Jack took an impossibly deep breath, “Schizo-effective disorder with some dissociation, post traumatic stress disorder, non-suicidal self injury disorder and depression.”

“Fuck me, that's a trail mix of bonkers. Now ask me”

Jack closed his eyes. They were shut for so long that Rin was certain he had fallen asleep having given in to his meds. His hunched, thin body sort of folded a bit in on itself. A moment of possible self-soothing when he started to sway.

“Jack?” Rin's tone fell quietly with concern. She poke his arm carefully avoiding touching the skin. “Darling what cocktail did these quacks put you on.” She was an expert after all these years; if the drugs were working, no way would he be this much of a zombie.

Green blank eyes hidden behind enviable eyelashes attempted to focus “Seroquel. Clozapine?” His words start to slur a bit. “Fine. How fucking barmy are you?”

“Well,” the young woman softened, “I have suicidal ideations with self-injury tendencies myself, severe clinical depression, a bit of the old borderline personality disorder and wait for it..” she practically whispered a few inches from Jack’s face, “total emotional attachment to partners.”

The skin around Jack’s eyes crinkled as he squinted just enough to indicate his hazed brain was trying to process everything Rin just unloaded. His lips parted to speak but he paused resulting in a gobsmacked expression. “You’re barking.”

“Says the sexy scarecrow with journo clippings of dead boys.” Rin pursed her lips and crossed her arms, “Why are you really in here Jack.”

“I’m fucking mad.” It was matter of fact.

“To quote the Cheshire Cat, we’re all mad here, love. Look at me,” she held her hands aloft to display gnarled and prominent scars covering both hands in their entirety. “I developed a gift or two by primary school. See I can touch a person, and I know what they are feeling. Except it.. It goes deeper than that. I can PICTURE their true selves. It’s a bit overstimulating, but no one can lie to me. Not really. Doesn’t do much for my sex life. Or lack of one really. Honestly, you put a cock in your mouth only to find out the guy you’re with is fantasizing about slitting your throat and wanking in your blood.”

Jack shook his head, “Jesus christ.”

“Well yes! My parents were religious zealots, right? They got wind of my gifts. Tried to use me in the church, but I rebelled. Long story short, darling Mumsy and Papa decided if they may be stuck my hands in boiling grease I wouldn’t be able to use it anymore. It’s not in my hands though. It’s in my skin,” Rin smiled almost pleasantly. “Sometimes I get a bit over the edge. I stop shielding myself from the pure air around folks, I suffocate in it. Then,” now she held out her wrists, “I have my little accidents.”

Jack’s mouth hung agape. His brows furrowed in confusion, “You are off you’re fucking nut.”

“That’s all relative. Now, you can tell me why they REALLY sectioned you. What power or ability are they masquerading as mental illness, or I can find out my way.” Rin shrugged.

“Why the fuck do you care? I’m sleeping at night. I have food and a bed and a shower.”

“Und electro-shock zerapy, und coma inducing psychopharmaceuticals, und most importantly you has lost your voice und a chance to harness your ability correctly.” that mock German accent again. “You shouldn’t be here, Jack. Emma certainly doesn’t think so, and neither do I. You’re special. Or that bitch shrink wouldn’t have made you the living dead.”

Jack snorted followed by a rather loud. “Just fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off. FUCK OFF!” he screamed in Rin’s face. Not once did she flinch, arms crossed again in a challenge. Disgusted by her, Jack kept bellowing his words thick with anger and cotton from the meds, “I DON'T BELONG OUT THERE EITHER! I DON'T BELONG IN HERE! I DON’T FUCKING BELONG ANYWHERE. HE’S DEAD. SHE’S DEAD. EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF THE CUNTS IS DEAD! DEAD DEAD DYING! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

He shot up out of the chair to leave, but Rin caught his large hand. Skin to skin, hands so small together they barely covered just his one. Instantly her body stiffened as she gasped for air. Tears immediately stung her eyes as she crammed them shut. There in her mind was just a large body of water. Ocean waves crashed overhead as she sank far below the surface. Dark, cold, horrifying that sensation of being drowned. Rin choked on the last bit of oxygen in her lungs and started to suffocate. The hand she held brought her mind’s eye around to opening under the water to see Jack floating near-motionless in front of her. It took all of her strength to push against the tide towards him where she held his face in her hands. Death and decay flashed above them, the dead peering down from boats just waiting for Jack to return to the surface.

Rin strained to convey that tiny bit of hope Emma had passed along to her earlier as she pressed her forehead into Jack’s in the icy deep. There was no reason in particular that she was drawn to him. Not in the hospital or here trying to save him from drowning slowly. Was he attractive, undoubtedly, but that wasn’t all or it. Maybe it was now that she knew he was a messenger, a harbinger of death. That was itself a form of an empathic gift. Or it was just compassion.

Suddenly Jack’s eyes burst open. In that languid way your body moves underwater, he pushed her away. His arms and legs thrashed around in a panic as if he only just realized he was allowing this place to kill him. There was an instant loss, and Rin’s inner self slammed into a brick wall. The physical Jack had severed the connection between her body and his. To resurface that suddenly forced Rin gulping in blessed oxygen that she never really lost. It was an illusion, where the two of them had been. He really had shoved her back though, she realized that now. Storming out of the visitation center, Jack left Rin alone to cry.

--------

Several days later

Rin lounged against the wall outside of Jack’s room with her gloves firmly in place. Patients weren’t SUPPOSED to fraternize outside of the common rooms, but Rin had been here a few times before. She knew which orderlies and nurses to finess, and which to avoid. In this case Jerry was the giant, affable St Bernard of a man that kept watch in this particular hallway.

“Wren back so soon?” he teased. “What are you doing hanging around the human handbook for the recently deceased?”

“Delightful, Jer. How is he? I mean really.” Rin hooked her thumb in the direction of the room.

“Easiest patient I’ve dealt with on account of he rarely speaks, pops his meds and keeps to himself. Gave us a bit of a row when he first got here, but I like the guy. I don’t know what to believe though. His sister’s been sniffing around administratives.” The orderly shrugged his massive shoulders. “Heard you took quite the piss on visitation day.”

“I didn’t take the piss!”

“Did ya do your handsy thing,” Jerry made jazz hands.

Rin’s eyes almost rolled back in her head, but suddenly there was a figure in the doorway which caused her to jump. “How about we don’t talk about the nutter like he isn’t 10 feet away and only 27 years old?” Jack insisted. His arms crossed and shoulders sagged in their usual way.

“Can we talk?”

Before Jack could truly answer, Rin had already pushed past him and sat down on his bed. His mouth hung somewhat agape before he eventually joined her. Jack attempted to sit close, just for some human contact, but the young woman beside him shied away.

“Right,” a retort. “You’ve started being just as bloody fucking annoying as they were.”

Startled, “Who?”

“You know those.. Schizo delusions I’m here for.”

“The dead?”

Jack’s green eyes narrowed and Rin knew there was a sarcastic remark just sitting there waiting to be released. Instead he curled his posture as if he was trying to fold in on himself. Make himself smaller, less noticeable. “Dissociations sparked by my father’s suicide.”

“Psycho babble bullshit jargon. Congratulations, you’ve become a parrot.” Rin waved her hand, “Jack has anyone ever-.” There was a hesitation.

“Has anyone ever what? Go on, enlighten me then”

Rin started stripping her gloves off but thought better of it. A sense of foreboding, of drowning and clutching her chest for hair flashed across her mind. The loneliness emanated from Jack without her touch. That empathic conduction of her skin. Reaching instead to place the soft leather against his cheek, her thumb brushed his bottom lip. Her eyes searched for him in that moment where time stood still before a mouth replaced a thumb.

To not only Rin’s surprise but his own, Jack didn’t recoil. His body relaxed as instinct took hold. There was a fervor in hands that got tangled up in hair. Tongues fought each other as arms made their way around bodies in an embrace. They held one another tight, the desperation apparent.

The spell broke when Jack laid Rin down on the bed and let his warm mouth trail down her neck. He was awkward and hungry like a teenager. He fumbled around her chest to attempt massaging her breast.

A snort came from Rin simply to hide the panic of rushing water when Jack’s lips came into contact with her skin. Maybe hers found it easier to beg off that inner eye from opening, but now she didn’t have a choice. They weren’t as deep with the surface just rippling only a few inches away.

Before she started to lose oxygen again, Rin began to squirm. “ Stop. Please?”

Jack sat up and faced forward as if nothing had transpired. His cheeks flushed and a hand tugged at his tee-shirt embarrassingly then stuffed between his legs. He blinked a few times as he breathing calmed.

“I only came to ask you if anyone had ever shown you affection. Held you. Emma.. Emma” Rin inhaled deeply as she forced Jack to hold her glove hand. “I know she sort of longs to hug you.” Back on his cheek to make him look at her. “Obviously I got my answer,” she laughed.

Jack silently replied by pushing his forehead into Rin's. They laid down again this time with their heads on his pillow legs and arms tangled up in each other. Jack nuzzled the edge of his nose into the skin behind her ear; her breath caught. Then the couple seemingly melted together.

“Jack you seem less-” fingers twisted up in his curls.

“Like a walking coma patient?” hand gripped the thick of her thigh. Then reaching a shelf above Rin Jack seized one of those creepy glass paperweights housing a floating tarantula. Turning it over underneath to show a tiny white envelope. “I started hiding my meds. Pass them along to my sister when she visits.”

Just under the surface of the water, still struggling for air exploded before Rin's eyes. Perhaps she had passed something between Emma and Jack. Was it her own faith that was transmitted to him? That first touch that woke him up after all this time.

The next few weeks became a game of trial and error. Of how little or much Rin and Jack could consume of each other. Kissing was no longer an issue once the meds began to wear off, lips and tongues and mouths. It felt more like standing ankle deep in a bathtub. Warm and comforting; it was Jack that was overpowering.

Eager to make up for a very long very lost amount of time. He stumbled along Rin's body uneasily because of how little clothing she removed at first. Not that he was in a rush to reveal what was underneath his oversized shirt and sweatpants. He wasn’t the one recoiling when the stimulation overwhelmed.

“I'll take off my shirt. Touch me here, but where the fabric of my bra is. Tease the nipple with just your fingertips. No that's.. maybe under? Touch them. Oh God. Now your mouth. Right there. Are you.. you took your shirt off too?” (She marveled at how defined, muscular Jack's body seemed despite his slight stature)

Jack took initiative now and slid his fingers inside of Rin. He pumped them a few times guided by her ``Oh.. maybe you can touch me.. Do you feel.. It’s like a bud or a kernel.. Here let me.. It’s just right.. OH GOD. Right like.. ” And she would ride his hand and fingers that circled that bud.

Rin would cry out in surprise. Her body exploded in ecstasy. They weren't drowning anymore. Just swimming, bobbed under the water and surface. It was the sense-memory of suffocating, coupled with the dazzling pleasure of Jack's warm tongue as it teased her nipples, his strong fingers teasing her clit at the same time. His hot skin meshed with hers washed out by fear. She apologized as they scrambled to arrange themselves.

“Don't think I'm going anywhere for quite some time, my love.” His words changed with the possessive my in lieu of the once meaningless sentiment. He would steal a chaste kiss from Rin whose cheeks flushed to match his own as he made that familiar adjustment between his legs. In the future, Rin would come to him without a bra but reluctant to take her shirt off when Jack kept on never minding.

Jerry became an ally of sorts. He always had been on Rin's side after she read him her second section. It wasn't difficult to get him to believe in Jack's abilities. Staff has whispered down the corridors that Jack had suddenly found himself aware of a suicide attempt. That dead reporter Emma mentioned, his fiancé had taken more pills than Rin ever fathomed any number of her attempts. (She had a flare for dramatics: slit wrists) Jerry mentioned Jack had a tantrum the likes of a toddler screaming the name Sarah whatever over and over, pounding his fists into his head to make whatever haunted him. Sure enough, this Sarah was found nearly having bled out and foaming at the mouth.

“How would he even fucking know, poppet? Not unless Jack really was chatting up her dead fiancé “ As if that was all he needed, Jerry turned his back and caused distractions all the nights the Empath and her Beautiful Broken Man longed to be together.

It was stunning the way Jack learned to manipulate the system. Only Rin, and reluctantly Jerry, knew he pocketed his meds. Safely tucked away in those ugly arachnid globes in the pockets or purse of Billy and Emma. He started talking more in group therapy and far less in private sessions. Engaged in conversations with his sister and nephew, true ones that resulted in a simple smile or a laugh free from a facetious tone. To the staff and doctors those fucking psychopharmeceuticals worked. To Jack’s sister and nephew and whatever Rin was to him, there was a slowly lifting weight making the air around him lighter. Yet Rin kept her hands to herself.

More trial and error. In the midst of fervent kisses, Rin took Jack in her hand. A stroke or two was all she got in before he spasmed and came. The mortification that flashed in his eyes as he curled in a fetal position between her and the wall while she whispered reassurances in his ear. Touching him, caressing him and eventually taking him into her mouth became easier and longer with practice and patience.

They laughed into each other’s mouths before Rin let her tongue trail down over his stomach. Anxiously Jack took off his pants and boxers, lying backwards. He held the back of her head, moaned and twisted as she licked and sucked on him. His hips bucked and thrust upwards.

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

Present Day, Again

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed Rin. Tongue pushed inside of her, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered, just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me?”

Rin took a moment to think. He wasn’t drowning anymore. She could push that old feeling out of her third eye and bury herself in new ones. She took a hold of her shirt and tossed it on the floor. She took the erection that twiced against her thigh and held it just outside of her pulsating and ready sex. With hands that sunk into her vunerable skin, Jack buried himself inside of her.

That fire from Emma all that time ago poured from Jack’s body into hers. It pushed back the water as he pumped rhythmically into Rin. Building into a frenzy quickly, his pelvis crashed into hers before she could really come around to what was happening. It briefly conquered the fears from before; caused hot tears to spring to her eyes that flowed uncontrolled down her cheeks.

In his fervor, Jack noticed and bent to kiss them away. The gesture she had made that first time, a thumb brushed across her cheek and lower lip as he slowed his pace. Wren,” he took to calling her that tentatively. “What is it?”

Before she could answer, Jack became distracted by something in the corner of the room. Eyes passed between Rin and whatever it was that she couldn’t fathom or see. She took his chin and focused it on her as they crashed together and apart again in another wave of building friction. It was too late though, he had abruptly pulled out and away from her.

“NO! STOP! LEAVE ME ALONE! CAN’T I HAVE ONE MOMENT OF FUCKING HAPPINESS WITHOUT ONE OF YOU LOOMING OVER ME LIKE A FUCKING PERV.” He used fists to beat out a rhythm on his temples as he scurried to the corner of his bed with knees up to his chest.

In the frenzy, Rin had been knocked to the floor. Jerry had rushed in, he was never too far away just in case. In a whirlwind, he picked Rin up with one hand and with the other attempted to intervene between Jack's fists and his head. What could either of them do? If attention was drawn to the room, surely the doctors would realize Jack had gone unmedicated for weeks. Jerry’s eyes wide gestured towards Rin’s hands. She shook her head, but Jack carried on.

“Go on Jenny Wren, there has to be something your hands can do. I’ll lose my job and you’ll be separated. They’ll put him back in the Zoo.” He was already yanking her arms forward and trying to remove her gloves before she could consent.

Rin knew The Zoo. It being rooms that could be monitored with two way mirrors. You got a bed and a blanket. They controlled when the lights came on and when they turned them off. No privilege, no real structure. They fed you, bathed you, and gave you “playtime” when they said. No matter how you suffered from mental illness no one deserved that. She would never forgive herself.

“JERRY LET ME DO IT MYSELF!” Rin bellowed if only to out yell Jack and his fit. “Make her go away! LEAVE ME ALONE” he cried underneath her. Her hands free, she flexed them a few times before joining Jack on the bed. She clutched his forearms and struggled to get a grip enough to pull them away from self-harm. “JACK! YOU HAVE GOT TO FUCKING STOP, MY DARLING.” She slid her hands over his temples before he could punch them anymore. She used the heels of her palms and pressed.

It was immediate, the way her mind opened to him. This time he was floating along the tide in a boat surrounded by what Rin could only guess were dead people. They grabbed and tugged on Jack’s clothes. Rin sat on the other side from him between two oars; she used one to swat at the ghosts who tried to pull them back in. But there, walking along the surface, was a beautiful young woman. Blonde hair flowed in waves down her back. Sarah.

“You said we would be together, Jack.” She was angry. “That’s what you told him when he warned you I overdosed. I survived that attempt, but not the second one. Where is he Jack? Why isn’t he here waiting for me?”

Jack stood up and the boat began to dangerously rock. Rin took his hand and he squeezed it in return. He bellowed at the dead woman, “YOU SURVIVED AND HE MOVED ON. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU BEING FUCKING STUPID, SARAH. WHAT I TOLD YOU WAS MEANT TO EASE YOUR GUILT. HE LOVED YOU. YOU WERE SO LOVED. HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MISTAKES. YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME ALONE. ALL OF YOU. I’M FUCKING DONE. MOVE ON. GO SOMEWHERE ELSE. I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND. AND FUCK OFF BILLY TOO, MATE.”

“Jack?” Rin spoke softly. The hands gripped her tight in place of him. They started to pull her in with him because he was useless now. He stood up to them for possibly the first time in twenty years. They would take her instead then.

Jack seized Rin’s body before she could go over in his place. He held her fast and tight and shielded her from them. “NO. You don’t fucking get ANYONE I love. Not Billy. Not Emma. Not Martin. No Wren or Rin. AND YOU DON’T FUCKING GET ME ANYMORE.” He took the oar up in his free hand and swung it around the bodies in the water. He jabbed it forward like a sword at Sarah still pacing the side of the boat. “GO, SARAH. HE’S WAITING FOR YOU. I PROMISE THIS TIME” Jack insisted and pleaded.

Then it was so silent it deafened both Jack and Rin as they clung to one another in the boat. In a flash and explosion, they separated and landed back on the bed in the room in an institution. Jerry panted and pawed at the two of them dazed and uncertain. Jack blinked a handful of times with no recollection of what just took place in his head and Rin’s. They never knew or remembered Rin had learned.

Jack scoured the room for any sign of Sarah or anyone else. He rubbed his eyes a few times then sighed heavily. “I.. I want to go back to my room now.” It was matter of fact.

Jerry nodded and helped him back into his clothes. Jack stumbled a bit but managed to kiss Rin sweetly before being led away and down the hall. Rin knew Jerry would probably give him something to help him sleep at least for the night and probably into tomorrow. She was afraid Jack had woken up a second time. Not just from his nightmare of the last twenty years, but whatever happened between them. It was a price she had to pay sometimes when she helped. There was something Rin longed to say earlier. What made her cry was an ember somewhere deep inside of Jack that he had never experienced before. For the first time in his life, he had hope.

#robert sheehan #jack #the messenger #robert sheehan character fic #jack x rin davies

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corkcitylibraries · 3 years

Text

Betty Friedan and Second Wave Feminism in the USA and Ireland

by Deirdre Swain

The Cork City Reference Library holds a large collection of books about feminism, particularly Irish feminism. BorrowBox also possesses a range of eBooks on feminism that were published in the last 7 years. In this article, I will discuss Betty Friedan, a well-known American feminist who was born in February 1921, and the second-wave feminist movement in Ireland. I will then introduce a reading list of books on feminism which are available on BorrowBox. I will also provide a reading list of books on feminism which will be available in the Reference Library once it re-opens to the public.

Betty Friedan and Second Wave Feminism in the USA

The recent TV drama, Mrs. America depicts the struggle to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment in the USA in the 1970s. The popularity of this TV series demonstrates a renewed interest in the women’s liberation movement and certain prominent and influential American feminists, namely Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm and Bella Abzug.

February 2021 marks the 100th anniversary of the birth of Betty Friedan, one of these second wave feminists and author of the seminal feminist text, The Feminine Mystique. She was born Bettye Naomi Goldstein to a Jewish family in Peoria, Illinois on 4 February 1921. Her mother, Miriam Horwitz, was an unhappy housewife whose parents, Hungarian Jewish immigrants, did not allow her to go to university. Miriam encouraged Betty to do the opposite, and she strongly supported her daughter’s education. Betty went to university in Smith College, graduating in 1942. She then studied Psychology in the University of California, Berkeley, for a year. Thereafter, she worked as a journalist in New York, writing about the Jim Crow laws and anti-Semitism. Later, she worked as a women’s magazine writer. In 1949, she married Carl Friedman (later Friedan), and they had 3 children. They got divorced in 1969.

In 1957, Betty attended the 15th anniversary of her graduation from Smith College. At this reunion, she conducted a survey on her former fellow students (females) to explore the direction of their lives since graduation. She was perturbed by the amount of discontent among them. This revelation about the lives of her peers led to the writing of her book, The Feminine Mystique. This publication recounts the dilemma of suburban housewives, who are expected to spend all of their time on domestic duties and the rearing of children. They are overshadowed constantly by the thought, “Is this it?” They feel guilty for not being satisfied with their role, but they cannot deny the fact that they are unfulfilled. The “feminine mystique” of the book’s title is the societal assumption that household duties and motherhood alone will give women a sense of achievement. Friedan coined the phrase “the problem with no name” to describe women’s unhappiness with and inability to live up to this feminine mystique. She contended that women could have a successful career as well as a family.

The book sold three million copies and resonated with many suburban women because it showed them that they were not alone in their feelings of dissatisfaction. It was also strongly criticised for its homophobic language and for excluding Black and working class women. It spoke from a standpoint where every American housewife was white and middle class. Her solution to the problem of “the feminine mystique” (delegating housework) were also criticised for being inadequate and for failing to tackle the problem fully.

Friedan was aware of some of the shortcomings of The Feminine Mystique, and she wrote a second book to tackle some of the problems not resolved in the first one, including the double enslavement of working women who still had to do all the housework. The title of this book is The Second Stage. She also wrote numerous other books, including It Changed My Life: Writings on the Women’s Movement, which was published in 1976 and Beyond Gender: the New Politics of Family and Work, which was published in 1998.

Betty Friedan was a women’s activist and fought for reproductive rights, equal pay, equal representation and equality in hiring. She co-founded the National Organisation for Women (NOW) in 1966. In 1969, she launched the National Association for Repeal of Abortion Laws (NARAL Pro-Choice America). She co-founded the National Women’s Political Caucus (NWPC) with Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug and several other women in 1971. The NWPC is a US organisation which supports and trains women who seek elected and appointed offices in all levels of government. Betty was quick-tempered, and she tended to lash out at people, including other feminists such as Gloria Steinem, even though they had similar aspirations for women. She was also quite disparaging in her treatment of lesbian women, referring to them as “the lavender menace”.

Later in her life, Friedan became a Zionist and fought to expose Anti-Semitism in the women’s movement. She received the Eleanor Roosevelt Leadership Award in 1989 and was awarded honorary degrees by the State University of New York and Columbia University. She died on her birthday, 4 February, in Washington DC in 2006, aged 85.

What advances for women were taking place in Ireland during the time of Betty Friedan’s activism in the United States?

The Irish Women’s Liberation Movement

In the summer of 1970, five women met in Bewley’s café in Dublin and decided that it was time for some drastic changes in Irish women’s lives; time to fight for equal rights. That day, these women held what was to be the first meeting of the Irish Women’s Liberation Movement (IWLM) group, the first radical women’s liberation group in Ireland. Although the group lasted little more than seven months, its legacy changed women’s lives significantly and positively. As proof of the success of the IWLM, the two injustices that this group fought hardest against – the marriage bar, which was abolished in 1973, and the illegality of contraception – are unimaginable in today’s world.

Margaret Gaj owned the restaurant, Gaj’s, on Baggot Street, where the IWLM would meet every Monday night. Margaret Gaj was passionate about women’s rights. Her circle of friends included Sinn Féin official Máirín de Búrca, journalist Mary Maher, who was interested in socialist issues, Máirín Johnston, who was a member of the Communist Party and who was also active in the Labour Party and Dr. Moira Woods, who was in an organisation called Irish Voice on Vietnam, which protested against the war in Vietnam. These five women started the IWLM group that day in the summer of 1970 in Bewley’s café, but around a dozen women were actively involved in the founding of this women’s organisation, the majority of them journalists. Nell McCafferty and Mary Kenny, both journalists, were two prominent founders of the IWLM.

Chains or Change was the title of the IWLM charter. It was put together in the form of a booklet which detailed the goals and ideals that the IWLM strove for. There were 6 demands: equal pay; an end to the marriage bar that kept women from working after they got married; equal rights in law; justice for widows, deserted wives and “unmarried mothers”; equal education opportunities; and the legalisation of contraception. Neither abortion nor divorce were mentioned at all in Chains or Change. When the most basic civil rights for women were being fought for, abortion and divorce did not even arise because they were not considered to be a priority. The booklet was a milestone in the history of women’s rights in Ireland, because it was the first time that anyone had published a comprehensive list of the injustices that church, state and social code perpetuated against women.

Nell McCafferty

Nell McCafferty was born in Derry. She got her degree from Queen’s University in Belfast and trained as a teacher, but she could not get a job in Derry, because the Protestant schools knew she was Catholic, and the Catholic schools did not think she was a real Catholic but, rather, a communist. She moved to Dublin to work as a journalist for the Irish Times. Nell writes in her autobiography of an incident from when she first moved to Dublin; she wanted to buy a record player on hire purchase but was told that no woman could sign an agreement without the co-signature of a male guarantor. A male stranger signed for her because she did not know any men in Dublin. This man was unemployed, and her own earnings amounted to five times more than his welfare entitlements.

Nell was a founding member of the Irish Women’s Liberation Movement (IWLM). In the IWLM, Nell was someone who could be depended upon to put forward forceful arguments that were backed up by accurate facts, and she could convey them both in writing and in person.

Nell’s journalism was objective, and she used it to bear witness to the struggles of the oppressed. She did not even have to give her opinion; her writing style and her description of what she observed in society were enough to expose hypocrisy and injustice without her having to comment on the issues herself. As well as being a feminist activist, Nell was also a civil rights activist on issues in Northern Ireland. When she started to work at the Irish Times, she joined the “women’s page” staff. Initially, she was fearful that this would involve writing about fashion, cooking and babies, but it actually enabled her to write on issues regarding women’s liberation and women’s rights.

The Contraceptive Train

In May 1971, the IWLM founders organised what became known as the “contraceptive train”, which was a protest against the fact that contraceptives were illegal in the Republic of Ireland. Nell McCafferty said that she had got the idea for the contraceptive train when she was in Northern Ireland at a civil rights march. The march went from North to South, and at the border, a student activist called Cyril Tallman held up a copy of Edna O’Brien’s novel Country Girls in one hand and a Durex condom in the other, saying that both were banned in the South. Nell was initially indignant about the condom, but the following year when the IWLM was talking about contraceptives, Nell got the idea of reversing the journey from Dublin to the North.

There was a ban on contraception in the Republic of Ireland, which was enshrined in the 1935 Criminal Law Act. This made the importation, distribution and sale of contraceptive devices a criminal offence. Advertising contraceptives was also illegal. The contraceptive pill was available in Ireland only on prescription, as a “menstrual cycle regulator”.

There were 47 founders and members of the IWLM on the contraceptive train on 22 May 1971, just enough to fill two carriages. However, when Nell McCafferty asked for a packet of contraceptive pills in a Belfast pharmacy, she was asked for a prescription, and the same happened when she asked for a coil, loop and Dutch cap. It turned out that the only contraceptives that were available in Belfast without prescription were condoms and spermicidal jelly. Nell was not happy with the prospect of taking a stand at Dublin customs with just condoms and spermicidal jelly, so it was decided that packets of aspirins would be bought, since they were similar enough in appearance to contraceptive pills that it was hoped they would pass for same! When the women arrived at customs in Dublin, the customs officers told them they were breaking the law, but let them through, because arresting them was not an option for them. The contraceptive train accomplished what it set out to do; the state refused to lift the ban on contraceptives, but it also failed to enforce it. The IWLM exposed this hypocrisy and proved that women would be free to import contraceptives from the North into the Republic from then on without any interference from law enforcement officials. Nell McCafferty made a statement at the train station, and two of the women went on the Late Late Show on TV to talk about the experience.

Mary Robinson failed in March and May of 1971 to get the Senate to add her Contraceptive Bill to its order paper. Despite Mary Robinson’s and the IWLM’s efforts to legalise contraceptives, it was not until 1979 that the government passed the Family Planning Act. This Act allowed solely married couples to get access to contraceptive devices other than the pill with a prescription. Family Planning clinics were already selling condoms, but the government was turning a blind eye to this because they were accepting “donations” in exchange for the condoms. In 1990, the Irish Family Planning Association was fined £500 for selling condoms in the Virgin Megastore in Dublin. Finally, in 1992, the government extended legislation to allow supermarkets and retail stores to sell condoms. The contraceptive train literally set the wheels in motion regarding the legalisation of contraceptives, but it took a long time before the law was changed for the benefit of women.

References

-Code, L., ed. (2000). Encyclopedia of Feminist Theories. London: Routledge.

-Parry, M. (2010). ‘Betty Friedan: Feminist Icon and Founder of the National Organization for Women’, American Journal of Public Health, 100 (9), pp. 1584-1585.

-Shteir, R. (2021). ‘Why We Can’t Stop Talking about Betty Friedan’, New York Times, 3 February. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/03/us/betty-friedan-feminism-legacy.html (Accessed: 9 February 2021).

McCafferty, N. (2004). Nell: a Disorderly Woman. Dublin: Penguin Ireland.

Stopper, A. (2006). Mondays at Gaj’s: The Story of the Irish Women’s Liberation Movement. Dublin: The Liffey Press.

Reading list of books on feminism

Available on BorrowBox:

-Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (published in 2017): https://fe.bolindadigital.com/wldcs_bol_fo/b2i/productDetail.html?productId=HCU_469861&fromPage=1&b2bSite=4813

-Feminist Fight Club, by Jessica Bennett (published in 2016): https://fe.bolindadigital.com/wldcs_bol_fo/b2i/productDetail.html?productId=PRU_398091&fromPage=1&b2bSite=4813

-Feminists Don’t Wear Pink (And Other Lies), by Scarlett Curtis (published in 2018): https://fe.bolindadigital.com/wldcs_bol_fo/b2i/productDetail.html?productId=PRU_574840&fromPage=1&b2bSite=4813

-Give Birth Like a Feminist, by Milli Hill (published in 2019): https://fe.bolindadigital.com/wldcs_bol_fo/b2i/productDetail.html?productId=HCU_655895&fromPage=1&b2bSite=4813

-We Should All Be Feminists, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (published in 2014): https://fe.bolindadigital.com/wldcs_bol_fo/b2i/productDetail.html?productId=HCP_402800&fromPage=1&b2bSite=4813

Available in the Reference Library, Grand Parade

-Code, L., ed. (2000). Encyclopedia of Feminist Theories. London: Routledge.

-McCafferty, N. (1984). The best of Nell: a selection of writings over fourteen years. Dublin: Attic Press.

- Stopper, A. (2006). Mondays at Gaj’s: The Story of the Irish Women’s Liberation Movement. Dublin: The Liffey Press.

-Pierse, Mary S. (ed.) (2010). Irish Feminisms, 1810-1930. Abingdon: Edition Synapse/Routledge (5 volumes).

-Owens, R. (2005). A social history of women in Ireland, 1870-1970. Dublin: Gill & Macmillan.

-Connolly, L. and O’Toole, T. (2005). Documenting Irish Feminisms: the Second Wave. Dublin: The Woodfield Press.

-Connolly, L. (2002). The Irish women’s movement: from revolution to devolution. Dublin: Lilliput Press.

-Rose, C. (1975). The female experience: the story of the woman movement in Ireland. Galway: Arlen House.

#corkcitylibraries #feminism

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lostgirlinthewoods · 3 years

Text

GHOSTLORE | pjs x reader

- horror!au

Description: There was no point in denying that Jisung is a curious boy. He entertains the idea of aliens, ghosts, monsters, and such; even going as far as visiting popular sightings. You know what they say, “curiosity kills the cat.”

Word Count: 4,142

Date: February 28, 2021

TW // HORROR, MURDER, SUICIDE, MENTIONS OF BLOOD

A/N: Finished this long ago but I totally forgot to upload it :((

- Part of my Bon Voyage special projects for NCT’s February celebrant.

October 29 - Thursday

Jisung was mindlessly playing on his phone, bored and unmotivated, when Renjun came running to Jisung. His phone is in his hand, seemingly wanting to show something to the said boy. He was frantic and quite excited to show his phone screen to the said boy. "Look Jisung! It's just three blocks away here." Renjun clicked the article he saw on his twitter screen.

THE CHILLING STORY OF “THE CURSED RED HOUSE” ON WOODVILLE

WOODVILLE, 2020 - It was November 01, 1878 when a quiet town was left in terror as a massive and horrible massacre happened in the, now infamously called The Cursed Red House. A family of five was found left bloodied and murdered inside the house - four of them were lying lifelessly in a pool of blood in their living room while their father was found hanged up in a rope in the master’s bedroom. Investigators have long concluded that the head of the family killed his children and wife before succumbing to his own demise based on the evidence presented on the scene. The mystery of what happened that night still leaves people speculating. Countless theories have been formed since then, but the most prominent one involved had left people frightened to even look at the innocent-looking red house.

May of 1986 when the family moved into the town - a family of five consisting of the parent and their two little girls and a teenage daughter. The mother was a bodice maker. Not long after they moved in, her popularity for her attentiveness at details started booming. And soon enough, townspeople are lining up to have their bodice made by her. Meanwhile, the father was a clock smith in one of the town central’s famous shops. Unbeknownst to others, he was a macabre writer on the side. Some accounts would state seeing him often in the local library with books about death. Despite the macabre background, the father was a decent man. Neighbors would often say he loved his children so much. It wasn’t until the summer of the next year came when changes started occurring in the household. Maybe it was due to the amount of books that had led the father to do such a horrendous thing.

The mother would often tell her frequenter, in one of her bodice fitting, how afraid she is to sleep at night, how sleep at one night, and how sometimes she would stay in her children’s room just watching them sleep and making sure nothing would happen. When asked why, she would often say, “I can’t tell you that. He’s going to be mad.” The father has quit his job as a clock smith and stopped going to the community library. Where he spent most of his time remains unknown to the townspeople. Rumors about the father joining a satanic cult started circulating in the town and soon enough, no one even bothered to come near their house. The children stopped coming out of the house, often only seeing them looking out of their window longingly. Sudden screams and shrieks would be heard inside the house here and there but the neighbors don’t bother checking them out due to fear of being cursed by a demonic figure. Whatever that is, something haunting happened in the family before the night of the murder.

It wasn’t surprising to say that ghost sighting is often felt, heard, and seen in the Cursed Red House. Oftentimes, when one’s gaze lingers for more than a minute in the said house, something unfortunate would occur to them - be it in the form of a fatal accident of even death. Every living soul who attempted to enter the said house had vanished with no traces of clue in the vicinity. It wasn’t a stretch to say there is something uncanny and frightening in the house. If you ever came by in Woodsville, never ever attempt to come near the Cursed Red House.

October 30 - Friday

“Come on, just come with me. This will be the last time I’ll ask you to come to these places.” Jisung begged like a madman while following you in your school’s massive cafeteria. You shook your head, once again. “You know how much I love you right? But I don’t love you enough to come with you there.” You continued walking, trying to ignore your boyfriend’s persistent voice. You weren’t exactly a fan of horror stories and such but ever since you started dating Jisung, you were basically forced to ghost-hunt with the said guy. You must admit, it had been generally fun ghost hunting with him considering you never really encountered any supernatural being. But you’re not about to take any chances on this one. Not when the Red House had proven her ferociousness on multiple accounts. Not when there’s a rumor circulating that nobody had ever stepped out of that house after stepping a foot in it.

“If you won’t come with me, I’m going alone then.”

“No, you won’t. It’s too dangerous out there.” You’re starting to get worried.

“How will I know if it’s truly dangerous if I don’t experience it myself.” He reasoned out. It seems like nothing would stop him from going.

As you continue to persuade the poor, adventurous boy, you were hoping he would drop his curiosity of this place.

October 31 - Saturday

You know you’re going to regret this as you make your way on the dark streets, the only lights illuminating your way are coming from the moon itself and the few streetlights along the corners of the blocks. It was 9 in the evening. The time of the night when you can already see the starry skies in its full bloom. Your walking shadow is your only companion as you make your way to the place you know you shouldn’t visit. To say the least, your walk was spooky. But you didn’t have any time to second guess as you saw the petrifying outline of the house you dread to see. In front of it was a figure, a familiar silhouette. JISUNG.

Jisung texted you about going to The Cursed Red House an hour ago. Whatever the food he ate that day must have given him ample amounts of courage because as much as he loves horror, he’s a cowardly little hamster who always hides behind his partner’s back - that being you. Deep inside, you know he’ll come back immediately though. There’s no way he would be able to go inside. Yet, the following messages coming from him worried you a lot.

mochisung; 8:28 p.m.

I’m here

You really went there alone?

I’m alone, couldn’t convince renjun to come with me

GO HOME!

This is not worth your time

y/n, i’m already in the front door though

Don’t come inside!

this is scarier than i expected

that’s why you must come home

okay i’ve opened the door

NO JISUNG WHY WOULD YOU

as expected, it’s dark inside

OF COURSE! NOW COME BACK HOME!!

mochisung; 8:35

Ji, where are you?

Did you really come in?

why aren’t you answering your phone

THIS IS NOT FUNNY

There was no message following that. He wouldn’t even answer his phone.

mochisung; 8:41

FINALLY FOUND A SIGNAL

YOU WERE RIGHT

I SHOULDN’T COME HERE

Y/N, I’M SCARED

I CAN’T FIND THE EXIT

I THINK I’M TRAPPED IN HERE

WAIT THERE, I’M COMING

NO!

DON’T!!!

PLEASE DON’T COME HERE!

MFOOE

%LIRN

Y/N NO PLEASE EWFWDSQ

F32ERFE

EFET

“{{-439

COME HERE! SAVE ME!!!

This is why you found yourself walking towards the house with Jisung standing in front. He seems to be unscratched which made you exhale a sigh of relief.

“There you are. I was so worried about you.” You exclaimed as soon as you arrived besides him. There wasn’t any response. You checked to see how Jisung was doing. He was standing there, simply looking at the house with a blank stare.

You slightly nudged his arms and said with a comforting voice, “Come on! Let me take you home. You must have been so tired.” Whatever he had seen inside, you know you must comfort him.

There wasn’t any response. He was still standing there like a statue. His eyes never left the infrastructure in front you - not even blinking. You even had to look at his chest area just to make sure he was breathing. He was acting so strange and it’s starting to give you chills.

“Hey, did the house scare you so much you malfunctioned?” You laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the fear in your voice. That’s when something in him clicked. He walked towards the house - not sparing you a glance. He walked until he stopped in front of the door.

Your mind is spiraling down. You have no clue if you should follow him and grab him home or whether you should call his name instead. Too afraid to do the former, you called his name. Your own voice echoing inside your ears. JISUNG! Come on, Jisung! Let’s go home. No matter how much you called him, he doesn’t seem to hear anything as he twists the knob of the door and continues his way inside. He had left you no choice but to follow him inside.

Shivers went up your spine the moment you opened the door. It was cold inside. Darkness enveloped your eyes. You barely see anything. You blinked and blinked, trying to adjust your vision to the darkness embracing the surrounding. Goosebumps started to appear in your skin. Whether because it was chilly inside or if the ambience of the house was causing it, you don’t know. The moment you got an inkling sight of vision inside the room, Jisung was out of sight.

“JISUNG, WHERE ARE YOU?” You shouted. Your voice echoing right back. There wasn’t any sight of life inside as you continue to walk down the creepy house, trying to find any source of light.

Soon enough, you arrived at what seemed like the dining area. It was massive. You carefully tiptoed around the area. It seems intrusive for you to be walking around this house. You can’t shake off the feeling that someone is watching you. The goose bumps in your skin had never once left. “Jisung, where are you? Please stop playing around.” You whispered to yourself, knowing very well that Jisung isn’t here.

That’s when you heard it, a giggle coming from what you assumed is a voice of a girl. You were frozen at your spot - too scared to move, too scared to make noise. The giggled followed by loud footsteps. They seemed to be running around the area. There was another giggle. It’s a different voice this time. The footsteps suddenly started to get louder. You cannot point out in which direction it is coming from. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see a glimpse of the running girls around you.

“Oh look, who’s standing there? Let’s play!” You heard a voice. The footsteps started coming closer to you.

Closer.

Louder.

There’s a whisper, “You don’t want to play with us anymore?”

“Y/N!”

You felt a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N!” It was Jisung’s voice. Your eyes remained closed, not sure of what’s happening.

“Y/N!! Y/N!! It’s me. Why are you here?” Jisung slightly shook your shoulders. You opened your eyes only to come face-to-face with your boyfriend’s looks. You immediately hugged him, shaken from what just happened. Eyes are starting to get wet from the pool of tears threatening to fall down from it.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t cry, please!” His words of consolation calms you down for a moment but somehow you know it’s not okay. It’s never going to be okay.

“What? You’re being ridiculous. I never sent you any messages after I came inside that house. There’s no signal here, look at your phone! There’s nothing even spooky in there. It’s just a normal, innocent house.” Jisung explained. You are sitting at the corner of Jisung’s bed while he was on his gaming chair. How you got out there safely, you don’t understand. The moment Jisung escorted you outside that house, you could only let out a sigh of relief, glad to be able to get out of that hellhole.

“No! I’m not mistaken, I can’t be wrong. Stop playing jokes on me.” Your tone was sharp. You are starting to get angry at Jisung. Whatever game he is playing, it’s starting to get on your nerves. You brought out your phone to and scrolled through your messages just to show him his messages. But there wasn’t any. You looked at it with disbelief. This can’t be true. Your mind cannot be playing any games with you, can it? He noticed your silence.

“What’s wrong?” He stood up and walked over you. He sat next to you with concerned eyes.

“Did you or did you not wait for me outside that house?” You asked, hoping for the answer you were looking for. Your lower lip trembles at the sudden realization and intensity of the event.

“No. I didn’t.” He answered, almost too casually. As if nothing is wrong.

So it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him all along.

November 01 - Sunday

You hurriedly dressed up in comfortable clothes as you were already late and Jisung is probably already waiting for you. Every Sunday, Jisung and his friends hang outs at Renjun’s home to watch movies or play games. The boys invited you to come to their weekend get together which you gladly agreed to. Truth to be told, yesterday’s event bothered you a lot. You explained everything to Jisung. And he did try to comfort you last night although it is clearly evident how shaken he was also. So you decided, for the sake of Jisung and his sanity, you will stop thinking of the said effect and act like nothing is wrong. You figured the both of you will eventually forget it anyways. After putting on a decent and comfortable outfit, you went down on the stairs. Your steps are quick yet light as you skipped through the steps. You saw your mom’s figure in the living room. “Mom, I’m going out!” You said.

There was no response. You carefully observed her. She was talking to someone on her phone while pacing around. You figured she just didn’t hear you. You walked closer to her. Then you heard.

“No, no. She--- she did not come last night. I was waiting the whole night.”

Who didn’t come home last night?

“Her boyfriend. I believe she was with her boyfriend. Jisung. His name is Jisung. He also didn’t come home.”

Why is your mom mentioning Jisung to random people?

Jisung didn’t come home? Your mom is mistaken.

“Please just find her.” She was choking up.

You called her name.

Once.

Twice.

Going thrice.

No response.

What’s going on? What’s wrong with your mom?”

“Please just find my Y/N.”

The sudden realization came to you. You and Jisung weren’t able to leave the cursed house safely.

As soon as you left the front door, Jisung was already there waiting for you. Judging from the look on his face, he probably already realized the circumstances the both of you were under. You hurriedly ran to his arms and hugged him tightly. You couldn’t help but to weep as he quietly hugged and kept your shaking body in his arms.

As soon as he heard you sniffle, something in his eyes shifted, “We should come back. Maybe we can do anything.”

“No, Ji! I’m not going back there. I can’t go back.” You pulled away from his embrace and looked directly at his eyes.

“Listen Y/N!” He steadied your figure, knowing how weak your knees must be from crying. “We have nothing to lose now. We don’t know what’s going on.” You continued to shake your head. There’s no way you're stepping a foot in there again. He looked at you carefully, observing the way you were acting. He hasn't seen you like this before - so shaken, so broken, and full of fear.

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” He said softly as he wiped a tear away from your cheeks. “If you don’t want to go back. At least, allow me to go there. Let me fix this for you.” He whispered as he hugged you again. You’re scared - too frightened to make sense of what is happening. But you’re not going to let Jisung go there alone. No, you wouldn’t.

The one advantage of going in that house in the daylight is that the windows offered you enough lighting to roam around the house with clear visibility of what is there in front of you. Your arm was looped around Jisung’s as the both of you carefully walked around the house. There was no sign of life here. No noise. No everything. The house remains chilly though. You felt like someone was watching you every move you take. The both of you walked upstairs. As soon as you got up, you saw it with your own eyes. Along the halls of the house are various photo frames. There were different faces every frame. Jisung removed your arms on his as he carefully walked around.

“I didn’t see this last night.” He gulped.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you. His eyes widening, disbelief written all over it.

“This is not here last night. This is just a simple hallway, no photos.” He said while frantically looking around.

“You must be wrong.” You know he wasn't wrong. For an abandoned house, this is clearly a clean one. As if someone is living here and maintaining the cleanliness of the house. There are no cobwebs at sight. There are barely any dusts.

Jisung continued to walk, observing each photo. You were following him closely. You stopped at your track when you noticed something in the corner of your eye. There was a mirror in there. The mirror itself would be enough to scared you but what caught your attention was the reflection that stare right back at you

Jisung continued to walk towards the end of the hallway. He didn’t notice you weren’t next to him anymore. As he reached the end, he saw the largest portrait hanging in the room. It’s a family portrait - a painted one. It looks old judging by how the canvas of the painting looked a little yellowish. There are five people in the photo. A middle-aged man with a few white strands of hair, a middle-aged woman with a slight crow-feet in her eyes, two little girls who were smiling brightly, but what caught his attention was the last person. It was a teenage girl with long wavy locks. Her lips were slightly turned upwards in a shy, small smile. Her eyes were full of life, he can feel it even if he was only looking at the portrait. There was something eerily familiar with this girl. You ran on the hallway quickly. He heard your footsteps and turned towards you. You stopped running to catch your breath. “Why did you leave me, Ji?” You were panting as you talked. There was a decent distance between the both of you. You looked up and met his eyes. That’s when it all clicked. That’s why it was so familiar. Jisung realized. Your eyes answered it all for him.

You are the girl in the portrait.

“Are you avoiding me?” You said, confused as you see Jisung stepped backward.

“You know what, I suddenly realized something. The reason why you were able to leave this house. It’s because you were with me.” You exclaimed with a joyful tone, smiling at him.

“I don’t understand.” His eyes were shaking as he walked backwards, avoiding you.

“Didn’t the picture explain it enough? You saw it right?” Jisung was trembling under your gaze. The sun is setting down as the light illuminating the room slowly turns into darkness. But Jisung can still clearly see his reflection in your dark eyes.

“I’m that teenage daughter you read about. This body died 8 years ago. Poor girl was riding her bicycle when she accidentally stumbled into this house. She didn’t have to die like that, but I needed a body. I wanted to explore.” You said casually; acting like you pity the poor girl but it only went shiver down Jisung’s spine as he recognized the monotony of your voice. You were acting like you pity the girl when you were actually playing a game all along. You are no longer the nice and sweet girlfriend he fell in love with. You must have recognized the look on his face.

“You’re not Y/N! You’re not! You’re not!” He continuously repeated to himself.

“Don’t worry too much though. You were the perfect first boyfriend for me. I love you, Ji! Please don’t be scared.” You pouted. “I mean, I’m still Y/N! It’s not the exact body, but didn’t you love me too?” You said. Your tone changed into a sad one. He was confused whether it’s a genuine one or not. He was frightened and you noticed it.

“Come on!” You raised your voice. “What are you afraid of? I’m your girlfriend! You didn’t even get to meet the original owner of this body.” You stood firmly, obviously mad at his reactions. You couldn’t understand him. “You think I’m disgusting, don’t you? For killing her soul?” He looked down at the floor. His breathing uneven and his body still trembling. Whatever dark forces are following you is too overwhelming for him. He can no longer walk away as his back touched the wall behind him. “The body dies. The soul lives forever. I needed a house for my soul. I needed to experience the world. Is that hard to understand, Ji?” He flinched at the nickname you called him; the nickname that he used to love hearing. You were devious. Something evil is embracing you and he can feel every inch of it. The last thing he saw was your sweet smile and gentle eyes at him as his consciousness fades in the background.

“It took you long enough to realize what was going. Mom’s going to be mad but it’s the hundredth body you brought here.”

“Absolutely. Mom didn’t want me to be like you. But I like the feeling of it.” You looked at the unconscious Jisung lying lifelessly in the middle of a drawn red circle. Candles were surrounding his body. “You know what. I won’t get all the credits. He’s a curious boy. He loves ghost hunting so much. I didn’t need to lure him at all. Too bad, I did like him a lot though.”

“Maybe we can keep his soul around here if you liked him so much. We won’t consume his soul for you. But that’s only if he’ll be one of us.” The soul of the living is what makes all of you alive in this world. You don’t have to cross the afterlife as long as you have the soul of a living person in you. You hummed in response, “Well, I hope he accepts your offer then.”

“Even if he accepts my offer, you’ll kill him anyhow. Just the way you killed your mom and sisters before.”

“They were being annoying dad! You know that. We did nothing wrong. There’s nothing wrong with practicing black magic, I believe. Mom was being unreasonable and she deserved it.” Your eyes were sharp and your tone changed into a fierce one.

“Anyway, so tell me. Did I pass the test, dad?” You continued. Your voice is as sweeter as the smile you offered him.

“Absolutely, my love. ”

November 05 - Friday

“Two high school students had been missing for five days after planning on visiting the infamous Cursed Red House. They had been identified as Park Jisung and Y/N. Whether they indeed go to the Cursed Red House or not, officials had yet to find out. Information about this matter had remained unknown. Whether they got lost due to supernatural reasons or whether there’s a kidnapper in the lost had remained a mystery. If you have any information about this case, please contact the Woodville Police.” The reporter stated and photos of you and Jisung appeared on the television’s monitor.

Inside the Cursed Red House, two newly added photo frames hanging in the hallway appeared. It was a picture of the body you used and Jisung. Both of which were smiling at the portrait. Along with the photos are hundreds of pictures of various people of different backgrounds posted on the wall. They were just two of the hundreds of people who attempted and failed to uncover the secret of the said house.

----------

#nct scenarios #jisung scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct #nct dream #nct 2020 #park jisung #nct fanfic

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youngbugandtonystank · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if I'm the only one who gets irritated when certain articles or movie reviewers on YT refer to Tony and Peter's relationship as one of "mentor and mentee"? While this is true, I feel like addressing them as mentor & mentee makes their relationship solely professional. Like, all Tony cares about is Spiderman and training him to be a better superhero. I get really angry when people interpret things like that and eliminate the personal connection between them. (1)

(2) Some also interpret Happy's words in FFH "Tony wouldn't have done what he did if he didn't know that you're going to be here after he was gone" as if Tony wanted to make sure that Spiderman was alive, so there will be someone to keep the world safe and continue his legacy as a superhero. Again, there is truth in this but I doubt Tony cared about Spiderman when he invented time travel. To me, he wanted to bring back Peter and for no other reason but because he loved him as a son.

(3) Could you please elaborate on this and point out why Tony and Peter shared more of a father/son relationship rather than purely teacher/student one. I love that in a recent post you talked about how Peter's goodbye to Tony was not the typical mentee goodbye. I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on this because to me, Peter was clearly saying goodbye to a father figure. He was almost begging him to hold on, to not leave them, etc. Thank you in advance!

Hi!

I know what you mean, I hate it when they do that too.

Before this, we need to see the difference between the three concepts Peter means to Tony:

1. Mentee: is a person who is being mentored.

(’What we discussed. Keep your distance. Web 'em up.’)

(’Stay close to the ground. Build up your game helping little people, like that lady that bought you the churro.’)

(’Don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. There’s a... There’s a little grey area in there, and that’s where you operate.’)

Haha, even at this stage Tony congratulated Peter like three times the same day lmao

Peter Parker: Hey, everyone.Tony Stark: . . . Good job.

Tony Stark: Nice job, kid.Peter Parker: Thanks.

Peter Parker: What?Tony Stark: You did a good job. Stay down.

Tony Stark: I wanted to tell you what an incredible job your nephew did this weekend at the Stark internship retreat. Everyone was impressed.

The pattern of telling Peter that he did a great job constantly is something Tony wanted from his father and from there, you can tell he’s already entering the parental territory even if he was just the mentor at that time.

Protegé: is a person guided and protected by a more prominent person, their relationship is mutual.

(’I did listen, kid. Who do you think called the FBI, huh? Do you know that I was the only one who believed in you?’)

(’it’s never too early to start thinking about college. I got some pull at MIT.’)

(’You know what? He actually made a really mature choice. It just surprised the heck out of us.’)

Son-figure/Pseudo-son: one who can identify on a deeply psychological level and who generates emotions generally felt towards one's father. A person who looks up to someone older and treats them like a father.

(’What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? ‘Cause that’s on you. And if you died, I feel like that’s on me.’)

(’I wanted you to be better.’ ‘Pete, you gotta let go. I'm gonna catch you.’)

(’My dad never really gave me a lot of support... And I’m just trying to break the cycle of shame.’)

(’But it was such a long way down and I just thought about you on the way...’)

Peter Parker: Hey, man. What's up, Mr. Stark?Tony Stark: Kid, where'd you come from?Peter Parker: Field trip to MoMA.

Peter is all of the above. He went through those with Tony and their relationship developed into father-son territory.

For me, it’s easy to tell that they have a father-son relationship by just looking at the same scene you mentioned; Tony’s death.

Think about it, Pepper has been in Tony’s life for around 10 years and Rhodey has been in his life since he was 15 and the fact that Peter is within the circle of people to say goodbye to him personally means a lot. The directors picked Peter, Pepper, and Rhodey to create an emotional goodbye to Tony, with the people who are closest to him. Peter is one of them, I don’t think a simple mentee would get that privilege. If Peter was just the mentee in Tony’s life he would’ve gotten this type of goodbye:

Far away and keeping distance. But Peter got the close contact, Rhodey even gave Peter time with Tony and Pepper even helped Peter up. That looks like a family dynamic.

I don’t if you read my comparison between Harley and Peter but if Peter was playing only the mentee part he would’ve been in Harley’s position. Tony and Harley probably kept contact through text messages and emails. He was invited to the funeral and stood very far away from Tony’s inner circle. Harley could’ve easily gotten an internship just like Peter since the kid is also smart and Tony could’ve said something about him in the movies but not once was this kid mentioned. This is because Harley is more like a ‘part-of-the-legacy’ kid of the generation that Tony appreciates than a pseudo-son.

A simple mentee wouldn’t get the treatment Peter got:

I think some people really think EDITH is just a normal A.I. or some pair of technological glasses lol no. EDITH can and is:

Tony’s security and defense system.

Tony’s most powerful artificial tactical intelligence.

Gives access to Stark Industries' global satellite network. The entire Stark global security network.

Stark Industries’ arsenal of missiles and drones.

Back door to all major telecommunication networks.

Capable of hacking into nearly any computerized device.

Is programmed to have Peter Parker as the only authorized user.

Stark Industries' weaponry.

Is the user interface to the entire Stark Industries network.

Tony basically gave him his legacy and his company there. A mentee wouldn’t get that responsibility. Why not give the glasses to Rhodey; an officer with the United States Air Force and liaison between the military in the Department of Acquisitions and Stark Industries; an actual aerospace engineer and Tony’s best friend? Why not leave that to Pepper; the CEO of his company and wife? Or Happy, his head of security and one of his best friends? In terms of the company, Peter now has almost the same power as Pepper. Almost.

He gave that to Peter because he trusted him and loved him as a son, someone worthy of carrying his legacy.

Many wanted Tony to leave Peter money or something fancy, but the truth is, what’s really more important and personal than a man’s entire legacy and trust? Nothing. Not even money. Also, who’s to say he didn’t leave money too? We’ll find out in the next movie, who knows, maybe he left something else too.

Let’s also remember EDITH wasn’t just a pair of glasses before, she was just like JARVIS or FRIDAY but Tony decided to upload her system in the glasses.

More proof of this is Peter being able to call Happy and ask him to go to an entirely different continent to pick him up in a private jet where Happy not only helps Peter with his injuries and lets Peter use Tony’s technology like nobody’s business but also assures him that Tony did everything he did in Endgame for him. This is not the treatment a mentee gets.

Even in Ant-Man, Hank Pym gave his protegé Darren great power in their relationship because and I quote: ‘I thought I saw something in him, a son I never had perhaps.’

Even if their stories are different, Pym mentions he saw a lot of himself

Darren Cross:All those years ago, you picked me. What did you see in me?

Hank Pym:I saw myself.

Darren Cross:Then why did you push me away?

Hank Pym:Because I saw too much of myself.

Some mentees and protegés are meant to evolve into something more and this is what happened with Tony and Peter. I don’t think they thought their relationship would get to the point it got but it did.

Directors, producers, actors, and actresses have said it before and the only ones who can’t accept the fact are either tony antis, comic book super fans or fans of the first spiderman movies. Other people can clearly see their relationship for what it is.

There’s one thing I really hated before FFH came out, actually even before Endgame came out; many were already replacing Tony as Peter’s father figure and were guessing who was going to be the next one in line. They were nominating Doctor Strange, Happy or Fury as if being a father figure is something superficial and exchangeable. And you want to know why they were already replacing him? Nope, it’s not because Tony was going to die, at that time nobody knew that, it’s because it was stated before that RDJ was not going to participate in FFH. That’s the only reason. I get it, Peter had two father figures and he lost his biological dad but that doesn’t mean Peter sees every single male out there as a father figure, sure he can get attached because he’s a kid but he doesn’t love them the way he loved/loves Ben and Tony.

Thnx!♥

I also know I have other asks in my inbox and I promise I’ll get to them as soon as possible.

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #endgame #far from home #tom holland #robert downey jr #marvel #mcu

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jae-canikeepyou · 4 years

Text

| cloud nine | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: alternate universe

a/n: agh i really like this request because i’ve seen an edit of him in a pilot’s uniform :< tbh i re-wrote this three times before i was satisfied with it. hope it meets your imagination 💕~j.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

captain jung jaehyun.

once everyone heard that name or saw it on their monthly roasters, whispers of yeses and scoffs of disappointments were normal in the department. some were contented with only being in the same paper as him. and then there were some who were very lucky enough to trail behind him when they made their way to the aircraft.

one time when jaehyun was running late, his existence alone acted as if the entire airport was his own model runway. a little speed walk or even fixing the folds of his sleeve cuffs sent crowds upon crowds trampling over each other about that rumoured hot pilot; taking pictures of him like he was a famous celebrity. people’s comments have spread and hit the articles as well, more frequent and mentioned in any social platform online and it was titled several times.

‘this captain has the visuals to be a celebrity.’

‘captain is a living character out of a manhwa?’

‘a pilot caused a storm at the arrival hall of xxx airport due to his good looks.’

‘mr. viral pilot’s even has a handsome rbf.’

jaehyun gave a forced smile that melted the eyes of his ‘assumed’ fanbase. not again, he thought. it was just a normal gesture to greet them, yet they saw it differently. other than a pool of sakuras and pink hearts, his smile was equivalent to ‘i love you’.

“attaboy jung!” his co-pilot lee seokmin, caught up to him at the departure hall. “do a finger heart next time!”

“don’t reveal my name.” he gestured him to keep quiet. “finger hearts are for idols.”

“i will reveal it because you’re basically a celebrity pilot now. don’t be so stiff, jung” his sunshine smile also caused an uproar after shooting the ladies with many hearts. “it’s simple. just put your thumb and pointer like an x- wait what do you mean for idols? can’t you see how famous you are after that viral picture floating around the country? if you’re not convinced, the world? jaehyun, even the legendary IU agreed you’re attractive-”

seokmin’s words were stopped by jaehyun’s documents in front of his purses lips. he put the blocking papers down with his fingers and still continued with sending finger hearts. “fine. you can reveal my name but not my fanboying side please. and dude i’m having second hand embarrassment right now because of you.” jaehyun gritted his teeth.

“you gotta get used to it.” seokmin said, now doing a heart with his arms.

the crew went through security screening and soon reached the bottom of the flight of stairs connecting to the plane. it was the norm, or maybe not, that the whole crew took a picture before the flight.

jaehyun stood at the middle with seokmin when he noticed a familiar face by his side. based on her side profile, he was sure this was definitely her.

he observed her ever elegant posture; natural make up that wasn’t too heavy, something he always liked. the way her eyelashes flutter due to the wind’s breeze and gosh her gorgeous and gentle smile-

“you’re staring, captain.” you cleared your throat, snapping him out of the trance. a small grin curving by your lips at his aloof response.

“my apologies if i have been rude..” he bent down to whisper, eyes lowering down to see your name slightly on the document paper you were holding. heh, i was right.. “..y/n.”

“if there’s anyone who’s rude..” you trailed off, turning to him face to face now. “..wouldn’t that be you, mr. celebrity?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, referring to the recent articles about the handsome pilot visual. you then twirled still with a small smile as you headed up the flight of stairs.

seokmin nudged the tall male, lips agape at his interaction with you. “wow you just talked with the y/n!” his voice sounding softer than usual. “she’s just new to the airline and everyone has a crush on her. i think i’m falling for her too.”

“you fall for every girl you encounter with, lee.”

as they walked up as well, jaehyun’s eyebrows arched at the compliment seokmin gave you. they took a quick glance at you, now talking with the rest of attendants. it didn’t take long for them to realize that other men were awe-struck by your beauty, just like he did. even the senior attendants seem very smitten whenever you would bring out the enthusiasm from others for the flight. entering the cockpit, the two pilots sat at their seats in preparation for take-off.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ten hours into the flight, you double checked the passengers, wherein you gave assistance, especially those with children.

at the corners of your eyes, you spotted a couple with three kids. and based on other passengers who seemed to not get any sleep or have broad understanding, were bothered with the continuous cries. the parents seemed new and they were ultimately blessed with triplets. two were already a handful for them and the other baby was left slight unattended, so you politely asked to step in to help.

you could feel that mobile phones were directly pointed at you, filming the moment as they planned to maybe make the gesture viral. you pat the baby’s back and managed to make her sleep.

since shifting airlines just four months ago, you were aware of the attention you’ve been getting from other staffs, passengers and even locals. as much as you didn’t want the spotlight onto you, your occupation somehow paved the way.

the parents thanked your service and as you bowed, the chief flight attendant called you to rest. you finally sat at the post where you were assigned at. out of heavy exhaustion, you massaged your neck to sooth the pain away. deciding to freshen up a bit, you used the service cart to block aisle and went to the lavatory before heading to the plane’s upper rest compartment.

the way you twirled around got stuck in jaehyun’s mind. he couldn’t seem to take you out of it. he would close his eyes for awhile and your smile would appear. it got him feeling so giddy to the point he felt his ears heat up.

“is she marked in your heart?” seokmin placed his legs up as the plane was on auto-pilot.

“no not really.” jaehyun said, removing the headphones.

seokmin noticed the fidgety movements jaehyun had been acting since the take-off. it was as if he was itching to leave. “jae, you’ll get your turn to rest, just let me finish my food.” he munched on his sandwich before gesturing his friend to leave.

now that he finally would get his rest, he exited the cockpit with a hammering heart. he wasn’t the type to reveal himself during the flight, but urgently needed to go for a break. other crew reminded him that he should sleep too, given the prominent dark circles around his eyes. as he waited for his turn to use the lavatory, the door slid open revealing you, whom maybe he, or might have growing heart eyes toward you.

your hands held the door as the grip on it tightened at the sight of the captain. you looked to where his hands were and he held the door’s outside handle. his dimples deepened the more he flattened his lips, and he too seemed shocked at your appearance.

even after hours into the flight, he thought you still looked the same like you did at the photo taking. “hi.” he chuckled, obviously feeling a mix of awkwardness and embarrassment in meeting you.

“hello. may i pass through?” you asked, almost taking jaehyun aback at your straight-forward question. the rest of the crew witnessing interaction made them giggle.

“oh, i’m sorry.” he turned his body 90 degree and you shyly nodded for the gesture.

idiot, jaehyun. you’re an idiot. he told himself.

jaehyun went back to the cockpit and retrieved his coat and he soon got down the steep ladder steps, where he spotted you reading a book you were so immersed in. the sleepiness in his eyes were long gone and this time he wanted to have a proper conversation with you. unlike in the previous two short ones where you seemed to brush him off.

you noticed his presence and closed the book, giving them the attention he sought for earlier. he stood opposite to you, leaning against the ladder. “do you have something to tell me?” you asked, placing the book in your bag. “i’m a pretty good listener.”

a smile from you had jaehyun head in the clouds. “oh, well captain lee said you’re new here.” he fixed to loosen his tie and unbuttoned the first bud. “so how long have you been in the airline?”

“i transferred four months ago.” you replied, putting a strand back with a bobby pin.

“i see. no wonder. i was probably busy at the time. lots of schedules and flights here and there. our paths never seemed to cross if you’ve been here that long.” he crossed his arms.

he was hesitant to ask because it would make him look full of himself. screw it anyway. “you’re not one of those who moved airlines just to see me, right?”

his question made you silent. “ i just thought maybe this airline is more suitable for me.” you lied. in fact you moved because you weren’t convinced enough from your co-workers, that this ‘jaehyun’, apparently your ex, could swoon the ladies.

oh heavens, it has been five years. and this man certainly did swoon you and definitely sent your chest aching again, in a good way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the city the airline was designated at filled with bustling people and chirping of the birds. the sun shone as its rays peeked through the little gaps between leaves. traditional music played publicly at the common and main street, some tourists lined up for the city’s landmark. it really seemed like a perfect picture.

you sat down at an outdoor café, legs crossed and memorised the scenery in front. glad that you were blessed with photographic memory and began a quick sketch on the blank paper. as much as you didn’t want to touch your new pocket-sized watercolor painting set, you had to dab the first droplet of water on the tabs.

the faint ash lines soon faded completely at the droplets and as you began to paint the first layer, the paper met a shadow figure that blocked the sun. you looked up to see jung jaehyun; with two coffees in hand, a sunshine smile, perfect dimples and in casual clothes. you didn’t want to make him wait long and invited him to sit with you.

“great day today huh?” he asked, leaning closer to look at what you were doing then shifting his eyes towards you. “it’s.. pretty.”

“thanks, but it’s only the first layer. you’ll see the details after i’m done with the fountain.” you brought up your sketchbook to let him see.

“have you been to the city before?” taking a sip from his cup. you shook your in response, still concentrated on the painting. “c’mon, i’ll tour you around.”

he grabbed your hand and you had no choice but to follow. street stalls filled with souvenirs and its people encouraged their ranges, and jaehyun spotted something that might suit you. it was a necklace. he gestured the man so he could pay for it. taking glances of you and stall, the man waved at him. “sir, this comes in pairs.”

“hm?” his eyes looked at the item. “oh then i’ll get a pair.” he gave the cash and as the man took it, he grinned at jaehyun for his hearty eyes; already catching the purpose of the quick decision.

“it is for the lady, am i right?” he asked.

jaehyun scratched his neck, mentally cursing to himself for being too obvious and transparent. “oh. she’s just- uh, we used to date.” jaehyun chuckled, taking the resin designed necklace in his hands.

“you both look good together.” the man winked like he was about to give the pilot a piece of advice. “she must be that special to be making you feel things.”

“well she still makes me feel i’m in the clouds.” jaehyun looked at you choose an souvenir with furrowed brows. “it’s kinda sad that we didn’t make it like most couples.”

the man’s loud laugh startled jaehyun. “you’re in the city of love. anything can change and anything is possible.”

jaehyun smiled at his remark and left with a contented, little hopeful heart. he went up to you who was still indecisive with the souvenir.

you felt his presence on your right. rising up to see what he was up to, you were shocked at the item he had dangling in his fingers. this certain gesture reminded of your first date; he waved a keychain he won through a carnival stall. you stared into his eyes like you saw the universe in them; the beauty continuously expanding, the stars shining and sparkling when it boasted its twinkles.

the smile on your face faded, but it was quite obvious to jaehyun. he brought down the item and bit his inner gums. “i got this for you.” he chuckled softly, eyes averting from you with reddened ears.

this was strange, awkward, how you both used to be a thing in the past and now meeting each other through work. it just didn’t seem right, to you at least.

“what happened to us?” your sudden question caused jaehyun bent even lower towards your face, sending you to step backwards at his action.

jaehyun knew what you referred to. in fact he asked himself the same question every day since losing contact with you after high school. a small grin curving by his lips disappeared, then mirroring the same expression as you did. “we were both young, carefree. we didn’t know what to prioritise and used each other to make people think differently of us.” he trailed. “we were pretty immature. we just stopped talking after our graduation and distance widened before we had the time to talk it out.” he cracked up slightly, beginning to walk slowly to continue touring you around.

you kinda bursted out in giggles, agreeing to every reason he had just said. the way you saw how much he changed physically and mentally, something in him seemed to draw you closer to him; like you wanted to go back to square one. because all you feel towards him at this very moment was the same as back then.

“couldn’t agree more. we were like those try hard couple goal wannabes that we annoy the heck out of our friends.” you put your hair strands behind your ear. “anyway, i feel the same-” you paused, realizing what you just said.

“uh-huh.” he now looked at you from the map.

“i shouldn’t have said-” you laughed and feeling panicky. the heat creeping from your forehead downwards.

“you mean ‘feel the same like before’ or ‘feel the same as me’?” he asked with a challenging grin. such a tease.

you rolled your eyes at his childish behaviour, not wanting to be caught in his web. “what do you mean by ‘feel the same as me’, hm?” your voice almost breaking to a laugh.

jaehyun inhaled and exhaled sharply because he did not know what else to say. his fingers waving everywhere to look for answers, but to no success, he could only smile awkwardly. you both stared at each other for a while before he spotted some people who recognised him from afar. he grabbed you and went for a run, pulling you with him and led you away from the main circle of the city.

how you wished you wore proper footwear. running with ballet flats on uneven ground brought more discomfort than it did with jaehyun’s company. but as you watched the way how his hair slowed with the wind and his smiling side profile turning towards you, all memories from back then came flooding in like waves. though you didn’t want them to, there wasn’t anything you could do because you knew that somewhere inside the deepest parts in your heart, there was still room for a second chance with him; there was still space for him to fill that missing gap that was left empty before.

now your body was pulled aside at one street, just by the edge of an outdoor neighbourhood home. jaehyun gestured you to keep quiet and he turned slightly to check on them. as you both hid, it was something similar when flynn rider and rapunzel hid from the patrolling royal guards. “remember how we were just like this when we hid from our homeroom teachers?” he asked, crossing his arms in reminisce and a grin from ear to ear.

“of course, it was your idea and we had to mop the whole gymnasium as punishment.” you tiptoed to take a peek behind him. “it’s clear now, let’s go-”

“let me do this for a while.” jaehyun pulled you to him for a hug. “i kind-”

“kinda missed this?” you finished his sentence.

his chuckle tickled your ears as his palms tightened around you. “you took the words right out of my mouth.”

“i know you too well, jae.” you pinched his cheek and he let go of you.

“too well that you figured i’m starting to fall for you again?” he licked his dry lips as he waited for you answer.

you exhaled a breathy air from your nostrils, turning around to walk around the city and giggled internally for leaving him unanswered.

jaehyun scoffed with reddened ears. “should i take that as a yes?”

“whatever you wanna think of, jae.”

he recalled what the salesman said. maybe something will change in this city of love and your words just now created a ray of hope in the sky. this inexplainable anticipation he felt in his chest got him realizing that, yeah, he actually, still is in love with you.

—

you bowed to the last batch passengers exiting the plane with jaehyun and seokmin on your side, along with other crew. finally on the way to arrival hall, all you wanted was to feel the soft sheets of your bed. grabbing your luggage, you slowed down your pace knowing that jaehyun was behind.

jaehyun’s hand laid on your shoulders, catching his breath slightly. “i’ll meet you at the carpark.” he bent down to a whisper.

“and what makes you think i’ll agree with your request?” you hummed, legs dragging your exhausted self to the walkalator.

“i’m gonna make my signature marinated spicy fried pork. i know you miss that.” he winked.

“mhm.” you singsonged, “more than i miss you.”

he groaned like a child and you could tell he purposely whined in a persuasive tone. “join me for dinner at least.” he nudged that you were lightly shoved to side, creating imbalance on your feet.

“fine i will.” you rolled your eyes as he cheered in soft ‘yeses’. “in one condition though.”

jaehyun lifted a brow at your habit and he should’ve seen it coming. “what is it?”

“live cooking. i’ll sit by your breakfast table, observing how you cut and hold the onions wrongly. i don’t want you to make me wait elsewhere of your apartment.”

“i didn’t invite you just so i could be bickered by you.” he held your head, sending vibrations for a second before you poked his armpits. “ow! okay you’ll get the live cooking in one condition, alright?”

you continued to walk towards the arrival hall, already noticing banners of jaehyun’s name and long lenses of cameras pointed at your direction. “that’s my word, but fine. what’s your condition, captain?”

a large hand find its way to interlock yours, then bringing it up to be visible to the public. “a pilot and a flight attendant dating.” his wink caused you to fluster in all sorts and now you were aware of the cameras. “it’d be a good topic, wouldn’t it?”

his lips seemed to inch closer towards you but it wasn’t a kiss since he refrained himself from doing so. your heart stopped for a moment before a certain camera flash blinked in front of the both of you, later hearing a voice of the photographer asking his mates to name the newsletter;

“captain jung is on cloud nine with y/f/n.”

#nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfics #jaehyun au #jaehyun oneshot

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vincent-g-writer · 3 years

Text

The Silver Screen Savant, pt 2- the Meh, the Bad and The yikes.

Hello Writers!

Last time here on Starry Starry Write, I talked a little about Autism in the media and my personal experiences therein. Today, I’d like to go a little broader, and tackle the topic from a macro perspective.

In recent times, you’ve probably heard “Representation Matters” oft repeated. Especially in prominent talking spaces like social media. But what does that mean, exactly?

Why “Representation Matters,” and how.

The short answer:

Diverse representation in media tells us that everyone has a place in the world. That everyone’s story matters.

The long answer:

It’s no secret that we begin engaging with media at a young age. When I was growing up in the 90’s and 00’s, TV and video games were often the babysitters of my peers. I was one of the few kids in my neighborhood whose parents weren’t divorced. The kids I knew? Not so much. Most of them were raised by single parents, grandparents and of course-the boob tube. I personally prefered books, when my mom wasn’t yelling “it’s too nice out to be holed up in that dark bedroom!”

Now, don’t mistake my preference for some kind of intellectual superiority. I watched plenty of TV too. Besides, books aren’t magically out of the equation. Printed material is our oldest form of media. And- often just as problematic. Though I will say- I saw a much broader range of people on covers adoring library shelves than I ever did titles on a TV roster. But, I digress. The point is: for many of us, consuming media begins at an early time of our life. And that’s where the problem starts. Even in my childhood, where The Magic School Bus, Hey Arnold, and Sesame Street showed people of all kinds, I can point to many that did not. Especially not people like me. Which did me a grave disservice. I didn’t know I was on the spectrum for a long time, and when I finally found out, I was horrified, thanks to what I had seen on TV.

Because media is not only a wonderful way to learn about people that don’t look, act or sound like us. It also informs our ideas of who we are, and what we can be. Whether we like it or not: it shapes how we understand the world. And it doesn’t stop with Childhood.

Time Changes Much, but not all.

Things are better now. Well, a little bit, anyway.

As an adult, I see more people like me on the screen nowadays. Which is nice.

Ish.

Why “ish?” Well…

Frequently, these “noticeably different” characters (read: Autistically coded) are branded “NOT AUTISTIC!” You heard it here first, folks! That one character (insert your favorite) is Totally Not Autistic. Despite being written in a way that gives every indication otherwise.

*Facepalm*

Now for some examples, which we’ll call the “Meh,” “The Bad” and the “Yikes.” For “fun,” we’ll also go into the off-air perceptions of the characters.

The “Meh.”

First on the list is Dr. Spencer Reid, from CBS’s “Criminal Minds.”

Dr. Reid is the youngest member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, having joined at the age of 22. He holds three B.A degrees in Sociology, Psychology and Philosophy, as well as three Ph.D’s in Engineering, Chemistry, and Mathematics.

He also has the social skills of a limp dishrag. Wait, what’s that? High Intelligence + Low Social Awareness? Hmmm…Then there’s his restrictive behavioral patterns, obsessive interests, and general “quirkiness!” that we could talk about. But let’s hear a quote from the actor who plays him, Matthew Gray Gubler:

“..an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger’s Syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three PH.D.s and one can’t usually achieve that without some form of autism.”

Hoooo-boy. I could go into all the things wrong with this, including why the term “Asperger’s” is both horrific (TW: Eugenics,Ableism, N*zis) and harmful. However, today we’ll simply leave it with the fact that this term is no longer applicable, having been reclassified in 2013 as part of Autism Spectrum disorder.

The “Bad.”

Next up, we have Will Graham, from NBC’s Hannibal.

Like our first example, Will works for the FBI. He’s a gifted criminal profiler with “special” abilities, namely hyper empathy, which allows him to reconstruct the actions and fantasies of the killers he hunts. He’s intellectually gifted, hates eye contact, socializing, and prefers to spend…most of his time…alone.

Oh dear. Haven’t we been here before? But, I mean, he doesn’t have Autism! The show runner says so!

For Will Graham, there’s a line in the pilot about him being on the spectrum of autism or Asperger’s, and he’s neither of those things. He actually has an empathy disorder where he feels way too much and that’s relatable in some way. There’s something about people who connect more to animals than they do to other people because it’s too intense for whatever reason.

You can’t see me right now, but I’m cringing. A lot. This is just…ugh. I mean, for starters, I know a handful of autistic people who struggle with hyper empathy, which can make social situations overwhelming and hard to navigate. In fact, I happen to be one of them. Plus, there’s a cool little thing about how, frequently, people on the spectrum more readily identify with animals. But, y’know. Who am I to say? I’m just someone, one of many, who’s dealt with this my whole life.

Now, onto the “Yikes.”

*sigh*

And finally, we have BBC’s Sherlock, a modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s renowned “consulting” detective, and probably the most famous fictional character of all time.

Now, I’ll start by saying that the BBC incarnation is not the first to be Spectrum labeled. In fact, Sherlock was my childhood hero, and the first “person” I saw referred to this way. My aunt, an avid reader herself, casually remarked to a friend “I’ve always wondered if Holmes is Autistic,” after I came yammering on about how fantastic the books were. Had I not been champing at the bit to get back to my reading, I might have asked her what that meant.

I also believe this fandom driven speculation is why many detective type characters (see above) are often coded as Autistic, intentionally or otherwise.

In this New York Times article, Lisa Sanders, M.D. describes Holmes traits:

He appears oblivious to the rhythms and courtesies of normal social intercourse — he doesn’t converse so much as lecture. His interests and knowledge are deep but narrow. He is strangely “coldblooded,” and perhaps as a consequence, he is also alone in the world.

Now, before we go any father, let me take a moment to defend his creator. During the time Sir Arthur Conan Doyle first created his most famous work, Autism was not known. That isn’t to say it didn’t exist. We’ve always existed. In fact, it’s now believed that the Changeling Myth, a common European folk story, was a way to explain Autism. In one telling (there are a few) children displaying “intelligence beyond their years” and “uncanny knowledge” were imposters, traded out by Fae creatures for offspring of their own. Children believed to be “Changlings,” regretfully, often came to a bad end. A chilling reminder that the stories we tell impact our real lives.

So while Autism was at least somewhat recognized, it did not become its own official diagnosis until 1943.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was first published in 1892. Now, as a writer who often draws from my personal reality, I imagine Doyle probably “wrote what he knew,” which is to say, acquainted with one or more Autistic people, he used them as inspiration.

On the other hand…

BBC’s Sherlock first aired in 2010. And while one might argue that the writers simply capitalized on the Autistic fan-theory, or took already available traits and exaggerated them for their version… they left a lot to be desired. Autism aside, this new Sherlock is…well…an asshole. Narcissistic, abusive and egocentric (to name a few) he sweeps his caustic behavior under the rug of “high functioning sociopath,” and blytly ignores the consequences.

Which is a major problem. Because while doing this, he’s still “obviously” (at least in the Hollywood sense) Autistic. In my previous post, where I said some characters are “too smart™, and logical© to ever have feelings, friends or empathy,” this is what I meant.

This is bad. We’re looping right back to Representation Matters. Bad representation, and the navigating of such, is just as important for writers to think about as good representation. Maybe even moreso. Because bad representation paints real people into cardboard, stereotyped people-shaped things. It otherizes. And it’s harmful. You would not believe the people I’ve met assume I’m not Autistic because I’m not an egotistical jerk. Why? Because they watched, you guessed it, BBC Sherlock.

Confession time:

Now here’s my little secret:

I love all of these characters. They are some of my favorite on tv. Why? Because for good or ill, I recognize myself in them. Finally, I can turn on the TV, and see myself. Or, somewhat, anyway.

My favorite character out of this list? Loath though I am to admit it… Is Sherlock. See, what those well meaning folks didn’t know (the ones who say I’m I’m “too nice,” to be Autistic) is… well, if we’re being honest, I wasn’t always nice. A few years ago, I was that guy. I was a jerk because I thought I was the smartest person in the room. Which is really not a good look. In fact, sitting down and watching the first season of sherlock, (around three or four years after it came out) made me realize how much of a jerk I actually was.

There are other things there too. Things that tie me to all these characters, that I didn’t list. But that’s for another today.

For now, I’d like to add a caveat or two:

1) I’ve watched all the shows listed above, and adore them. As I mentioned, Sherlock is my favorite. He’s also the one I’ve watched the most (Repeatedly, in fact. Whoops.) and I recognize it’s not all bad. In the end, he learned to treat people better (somewhat) and certainly became more human over time. And, there are other deeply problematic elements of the show I’d like to tackle, eventually.

*cough* Queerbating! *cough*

2) I’m well aware that the above cases are all thin, white, able bodied, “straight” males. But I chose these characters for a couple of reasons. One, they’re the most prominent type on TV. Again, we loop back around to representation, and why we need more positive, diverse examples of it.

And finally-

3) In my last post, I mentioned I’d give some “good” instances of Hollywood Autism trope. But I didn’t exactly do that. Partially, because half way through, I thought…perhaps…I’m not the best to judge what might be a good Autistic character. I mean, I’m sure someone will read this and think my current aforementioned characters are fine. Heck! They might even argue my perception here, and say the characters are just fine. I accept that. In my life, both on and off the page, I recognize that I cannot, should not (and don’t want to) speak for an entire community.

Because of this, I cannot tell you how to write a “good” Autistic character, or what media is “acceptable.” I can’t even really tell you what a bad character is. Sure, I have a lot of opinions about it. But- if you’re on the spectrum and like and identify with the above? That’s fine. I mean, even with all the problems I noted (and some I didn’t) I certainly do.

On the other hand, if you’re a writer, and you want to write a character from this (or any, for that matter) community you aren’t part of, I caution you.

Do your research. Preferably from multiple credible sources.

Talk to people on the spectrum about what it’s really like. (Though try to steer clear of asking for emotional labor.You could, say, hop on reddit and ask the community there, for instance, which is a no pressure way to obtain potentially decent info.)

Finally, whatever you do, remember this-

Autistic people can look like anyone. We can act, and think and be different, like anyone. We are real, living, breathing people. Not robots, not sob stories, not tropes. People. So if you write about us, write us like people. And your work will be all the better for it.

-Your Loving Vincent

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dakotacrisis · 4 years

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Transferred (15)

In this house we love and appreciate Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

This the end of the official story but there is a bonus spin-off chapter I’m gonna be posting later that is pure Kagaminette (or is it Marigami?)

---

“Kagami!” Marinette was shoved into the limo. “What do you mean? I can’t go! Look at what I’m wearing!” Marinette gestured to her overalls, Chat Noir t-shirt, and converse. “This is a fancy fashion fundraiser!”

“I know. We have something for you to wear at the venue which is why we’re getting there early. Calm down, we got an entire outfit and we’re gonna do you up with hair and make-up. You’re gonna be the belle of the ball.” Kagami was trying to calm down a frantic Marinette.

“You were supposed to be--”

“Shush.” Kagami chuckled, “It’s fine. It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re killing me.” They pulled up to the back of the hotel. The girls rushed inside and were met with Aurore waiting for them. She was wearing a lilac dress with ivory flower embellishments around the bust.

“Hello girls,” Aurore was beaming, “Kagami, you look great! Marinette, you are going to look fantastic. Come with me.”

“Treat her well!” Kagami called to them as Aurore dragged her away. “I’ll see you in there, Marinette!”

“Aurore, please tell me what is going on.” Marinette begged as she was pulled along and into the elevator. Aurore didn’t let anything go as they sailed up and up and up. They finally stopped and Aurore dragged her up to a door. She knocked on it and the door was opened by Sabrina. She was in a simple turquoise tea length dress and had her hair curled and pinned.

“She’s here!” Sabrina pulled Marinette and Aurore inside what Marinette realized was Chloe’s room.

“About time.” Chloe stood in the center of her room in a long high neck black and white dress with twin high slits. Her hair was loose from its usual ponytail but pinned back away from her face with a little golden hair comb.

“Chloe, what is--” Marinette was cut off as the trio pushed her into the bedroom part of the room. Hanging up was the outfit Kagami had mentioned.

“I don’t know how you got that but don’t you think it’s a little much?” Marinette said.

“Not for what you’re gonna be doing.” Aurore was hopping from one foot to the other.

“But what are we doing?”

“Stop wasting time, Dupain-Cheng. We got an event to get to.” Chloe and the other two were practically pulling her out of her clothes before Marinette kicked them out to get dressed herself. After she was dressed Aurore pulled her away to do her makeup while Chloe tackled her hair.

“And she is perfect,” Aurore held up a mirror, “What do you think?”

“I look nice but I would love to know why I’m here in the first place.” Marinette was getting impatient.

“Recognition, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe smirked, “This is the most covered charity event of the year and you are a walking centerpiece in this dress. So go down there, head held high, and let everyone know who you are. Got it?”

“Got it.” Marinette wasn’t gonna argue with Chloe about this.

Together the girls rode back to the ground floor. Chloe explained what Marinette would be doing and left her in the hands of the butler while the three others went out to a limo to take them around to the front of the building. Marinette waited behind the little stage that was set up in the hotel ballroom, occasionally she would peek out to look at all the guests. She spotted the table where Kagami and Adrien were sitting. Chloe, Sabrina and Aurore were also at the table. The parents: Mrs. Tsurugi, Mr. Agreste, Mr. and Mrs. Bourgeois, and even Marinette’s parents were sitting together at a table right next to the teenagers.

What were her parents doing here? They didn’t mention any of this! They were gonna get an earful when they get home.

After everyone was seated and comfortable, Mr. and Mrs. Bourgeois got up and came onto the stage. Marinette stepped back into the shadows as they welcomed the guests and talked about their hopes for tonights fundraiser.

“Now, this program is not just to fund the arts but to bring prominent artists and designers of the next generation into the light. Around the venue you will find many pieces that our young creators have been meticulously working on and will be able to continue to create thanks to your generosity this evening.” Mayor Bourgeois said. “Every year we choose one of these young upstarts to highlight as our next big name in the industry. Many high profile names today I would say, owe their jumpstart to success to this award. Clara Nightingale being last years winner and even our own Gabriel Agreste having received this honor back in the day.”

“To announce this years next big name of the arts is Gabriel’s son, Adrien Agreste.” Mrs. Bourgeois said. Everyone applauded as Marinette assumed Adrien stepped onto the stage.

Was this…

“Thank you everyone for being here tonight.” Marinette recognized Adrien’s voice speaking over the microphone now. “As Mayor Bourgeois already explained, this honor is more than just a title. It is a starting point to a road paved with opportunities. One that with hard work, an open mind, and eyes full of creativity will lead to a successful career.”

“That is why it is my very great honor to introduce our choice for this year’s Next Big Thing, Paris’ own Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“I--I--”

“Go, Marinette!” Tikki chided her.

Marinette regained her wits and walked onto the stage. The entire room was applauding her.

Adrien stood at the microphone with a proud smile and a hand extended out to her. Nervously she took it and he pulled her closer towards him. “Did we surprise you?”

“Yes, I think it’s safe to say you did.” Marinette didn’t know whether to blush or cry. “Why though?”

“Cause you deserve it. More than anyone I know.” His smile softened into something sweeter that made Marinette’s insides melt.

Adrien turned back to the microphone. “Marinette is wearing a ballgown that she designed and constructed herself. Just one of many creations that she’s made. But her talents don’t end there. I could go on and on about how she is Jagged Stone’s preferred designer for accessories, posters, and album covers. How she created the stage outfits for the up and coming band, Kitty Section. Heck, it would take me all night to list how kind and creative this girl next to me is.”

Marinette was definitely gonna start crying.

“Marinette, things between us may have gotten off to a rocky start but I am glad that we are such great friends today. You are always putting yourself out there for your friends, your family, for justice, for creativity, even for strangers. Life can be tough but you push forward and soldier on with a smile on your face and a can-do attitude. In this day and age, when evils like Hawkmoth and corrupt politicians and everyday jerks have dragged the morale of the population down, having someone like you that chooses to see the beauty in the world is something we need now more than ever. There are many kind and creative people in the world but there is only one Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she will never be able to be recreated.”

And the tears were falling. No stopping it now.

The crowd erupted once more into applause while Adrien handed her a tissue. “Kagami told me to bring this up with me. Good thing she thought ahead.”

“Yeah,” Marinette let out a bark of laughter between her happy sobs. “This is--that was--I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, ladies and gentlemen.” Adrien gave her one final moment to soak in the undivided adoration before escorting her back to his table. She stopped by to hug her parents and thank the adults for choosing her before settling in with her peers.

“Surprise,” Kagami smirked.

“I can’t believe you guys,” Marinette was still trying to calm down, “How did you even do this?”

“Lots of careful planning.”

“And my dress?” Marinette gestured to her ballgown, the one Lila had gotten her miscredited from in the newspaper, “I put it in storage after the Lila incident.”

“We explained the situation to your parents and they gave it to us with the promise that we would treat it with the utmost respect.”

That would explain why she seemed to have more space in her closet.

A small dinner was served and then a couple more people came up to speak about the night. More young artists were highlighted before everyone was encouraged to go and take a look at the pieces around the room. There seemed to be art of all kinds there. Paintings, sketches, sculptures, clothing, short movies, music samplings. There was a table lined with story excerpts people could read from young authors. Journalism articles hung on the walls like pieces in a museum. There was even a part of the room dedicated to carpenters and the amazing furniture, instruments, and wooden toys they made.

Several people during the night came up to Marinette inquiring about her dress and possible other designs she had created. Kagami was quick to show off her own dress and brag about Marinette’s skill in making it.

Many of the people at the event were critics and renowned fashion designers that handed Marinette business cards with promises to make her their protege. Things got a bit heated when two designers started trying to outdo the other with their offers forcing Adrien to swoop in and politely extract Marinette.

Eventually the party started to wind down and people were making there way home. Mostly the older adults that couldn’t quite keep up with the number of young people in the room.

“Hey, Marinette,.” Adrien approached her. At some point in the night he had ditched the jacket and tie and was walking around with his vest open and top button of his shirt undone. “I saw your parents head out. You didn’t join them?”

“Not yet. I wanted to enjoy the party a little longer.” Marinette looked around the room, “What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen your father around.”

“He had one wine glass too many and headed home. I figured he wouldn’t notice if I showed up a little later than when I was supposed to.” he grinned in a not so innocently Adrien way. “That being said, are you doing anything after this?”

“Seeing as how my original plans for tonight was to veg out in my room binging old romantic comedies I’m gonna say no. Why?”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to that bowling alley we went to before. It’s open till two AM all week so I thought that you and I could go for some late night, over-dressed, bowling catastrophe fun.”

“That sounds great--”

“Sorry Adrikins, but we already have plans tonight.” Chloe cut between Adrien and Marinette.

“We do?” Marinette stared at her.

“The sleepover.”

“Sleepover?”

“What are you, a parrot?” Chloe scoffed, “We’re having a girls night in my suite. No boys allowed.”

“But--what--when was this?” Marinette sputtered as she was pulled away from Adrien by Chloe.

“Oh. Bye, Marinette!” Adrien waved to her, “Have fun! I’ll text you later!”

“Bye!” Marinette squeaked out as she was whisked out of the ballroom.

They went back to the elevator and up to Chloe’s room. “Are there any more surprises that you have in store for me tonight or is this the last one?” She asked.

“You love it.” Chloe smirked. Kagami, Sabrina, and Aurore were also in the elevator. Sabrina and Aurore weren’t a surprise but Marinette hadn’t expected Kagami to be with them.

They entered the suite and the girls started to dress down removing their heels and accessories. “Makeup wipes in the bathroom and pajamas on the bed.” Chloe said, “I got foot massagers by the couch and room service on speed dial.”

Marinette went to the bed and saw that there were matching silk pajamas for each girl in their favorite color and monogrammed with their initials. Red for Kagami, teal for Sabrina, sky blue for Aurore and honeycomb yellow for Chloe. Marinette’s was a nice powder pink with the initials MDC stitched across the pocket in cream threading.

Marinette waited her turn to change into her new cozy pajamas and joined the rest of the girls around the couch. Kagami and Aurore were deciding what movie to watch while Chloe had Sabrina make a list of what they wanted room service to bring up.

“Hey,” Marinette approached Chloe. “Can we talk?”

“Sabrina, you know what I like. Finish ordering. Also, make sure those two pick a decent movie.” Chloe told Sabrina before standing to talk to Marinette. “Yes?”

“I know we’ve rarely seen eye to eye and I would be one of the furthest things from a friend in your opinion but I wanted to take a moment and say thank you. Not just for the fundraiser and this deluxe sleepover but for going above and beyond with your takedown of Lila. It was incredible and to think you did that for me--”

“And an amazing grade.”

“And an amazing grade.” Marinette agreed, “It means so much. I don’t know what all of this makes us, not friends exactly, but maybe not enemies? Playful adversaries?”

Chloe’s holier-than-thou smile softened. Her walls dropping just for a moment. “We’re allies. Not always but I wasn’t just going to let one of the few people I respected be disgraced by a knockoff mean girl with dead anime mom hair.”

“What hair?”

“Nothing. Something Adrien told me. It doesn’t matter.” Chloe huffed. Her walls going up again. “I may not have my miraculous but that doesn’t make me any less the superheroine I am.”

“I know it doesn’t.”

Chloe smiled.

Marinette wished she could give Chloe her miraculous more often. With her identity being outed it was just too dangerous. But maybe she deserved a new miraculous. Nothing would fit her as perfectly as Queen Bee but Marinette had hope that she would do well with a new power. So long as she didn’t advertise her identity to all of Paris again.

A knock at the door drew their attention. “Room service!” A voice called from outside.

“I’ll get that. You go make sure Tsurugi and Weather-Girl chose a good movie.” Chloe flipped her hair and sashayed over to the door.

Marinette hopped the couch and sat down. The buffett of luxury junk food was laid out before them. They all got comfy in their seats and pressed play on the movie. Kagami leaned against Marinette as the movie played and ended up falling asleep halfway through. Marinette didn’t have the heart to move her so stayed put. Not that Hawkmoth himself could get her to move from that spot. Who knew Kagami was a cuddler?

As excited as everyone had been earlier once the movie started playing everyone started dropping like flies. Marinette had nodded off as well at some point and only woke up again when she felt something being draped over her. She squinted her eyes open and saw Chloe walking around putting blankets over the other girls.

She could pretend all she wanted but there was a good person inside Chloe. She rarely came out and even then most of the time it was to help make herself look better. But there were times, behind closed doors, with no witnesses around, that Chloe was kind just because she wanted to be. Maybe it was those moments that Adrien always got to see that helped the friendship he held with her. Maybe Chloe would become even nicer. Maybe she would continue on her little tirade of pompous superiority. It was anyone’s guess.

Marinette was glad that the chance for Chloe to become someone even better than she is was still an option. A year ago she would have thought it impossible. Of course a year ago there wasn’t a butterfly terrorist and people getting turned into monsters every other day. So it seems a lot can change.

Chloe was nice, Lila was gone, Marinette had loving friends, and Kagami was softly snoring on Marinette’s sternum. It was about as perfect as she could hope.

Tomorrow may be uncertain but it wasn’t for her to worry about. Not when she had people she loved to stand beside her…or sleep on her. Marinette readjusted the blanket and stretched herself into a more comfortable position without waking Kagami and went back to sleep.

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14)

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@northernbluetongue @ladylb @immatureidiot101 @lady-flora-of-slytherin @zazzlejazzle @shamefullove @heredemaquam @kristycocopops @schrodingers25 @sublimemagazinestarlight @crazylittlemunchkin @daydream-wannabewriter @trainflavor @never-neverland @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore

#we stan a talented creampuff!#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #chloe bourgeois #salt fic #transfer au #writing

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dragontrailz · 4 years

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Greta Thunberg - Her Privilege Makes Her Blind To Her Own Manufacturing

This is what privilege looks like - 'Only people like me dare ask tough questions on climate’. Only the affluent upper middle classes could possible engineer a quote quite this stupid.

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/oct/11/greta-thunberg-people-like-me-ask-difficult-climate-questions

She’s not the only type of person to do this. She’s not the only person with a disability, autism or Asperger’s to speak up. She’s playing on the fact that she’s on the spectrum. Many people have spoken up before she did. Some of them from working class and ethnic backgrounds. She literally can’t see that her privilege, affluence and her parents connections have made this happen for her. As Cory Morningstar has pointed out, Greta Thunberg’s mum was a WWF Hero of the Year in 2017; she does adverts for Greenpeace and moves in those circles. When the 15 year old created her Twitter account in 2018, after her mother, the next accounts she followed were Greenpeace Sweden, Greenpeace International, Greenpeace UK, Friends of the Earth International and Friends of the Earth USA. A little further down the list we find Bill McKibben, 350.org, fellow speakers who would join her at XR’s Declaration of Rebellion (months later on October 31st): George Monbiot and Rupert Read and soon after that We Don’t Have Time, an NGO that would play a crucial role, as well as This Is Zero Hour, their founder, Jamie Margolin and the main account for Extinction Rebellion. Morningstar also cites Callum Grieve, a former Communications Director at The Climate Group and We Mean Business, who now works for Mission 2020, as a key architect of her manufacturing. Grieve also assisted Thunberg; on the first day of her protest he was the third person to respond on that platform. He’s not a huge Twitter influencer though, as he doesn’t have so many followers there.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzCgKEjgCng

https://soundcloud.com/lastborninthewilderness/cory-morningstar

http://www.wrongkindofgreen.org/2019/01/17/the-manufacturing-of-greta-thunberg-for-consent-the-political-economy-of-the-non-profit-industrial-complex/

This 17 year old is still being used; but nows seem to enjoy the limelight so much, that they’ve made a film. Her mum is an opera singer, her dad an actor, she was propelled from her first protest to global superstar within weeks. On the day of her first protest, on August 20th, 2018, she was approached by We Don’t Have Time’s Ingmar Rentzhog who ‘discovered’ her and she was soon a major story, appearing on the front page of Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet the same day. Rentzhog had met Greta Thunberg’s mother at a climate event in May 2018, shortly before Greta’s Twitter account was set up. On September 1st, Greta Thunberg was featured in her first Guardian column. It’s worth noting that the Aftonbladet account was followed after those mentioned in the previous paragraph, which suggests she was looking to the global stage before the Swedish national stage.

https://medium.com/@frackfree_eu/green-capitalism-is-using-greta-thunberg-66768db6c0e1

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2018/sep/01/swedish-15-year-old-cutting-class-to-fight-the-climate-crisis

The sequence of events which led to Greta’s sudden rise to prominence and the role of Ingmar Rentzhog is explained in more detail here:

https://www.news.com.au/finance/business/media/the-pr-guru-behind-the-rise-of-greta-thunberg/news-story/fae7bd1704d58e8ff0dd4d93ec0b3560

Talk of her “'zero-carbon yacht” in this article is nonsense. There is no such thing. Manufacture of it has embodied energy, besides which, how many of us can afford a transatlantic yacht for those times when we want to sail to the USA to lobby the climate capitalists in that country? The same narrative was peddled when she made her way from Sweden to London by electric car for XR’s Declaration of Rebellion on October 31st, 2018 (I was there that day). What was wrong with using public transport? Surely that would have conveyed a much more sustainable message?

Climate change isn’t the only crisis we face; people have been trying to defend nature from the onslaught of extractive capitalism for a long time; again many of them were poor or Indigenous people, so their narratives were airbrushed away and they weren’t given a number of Guardian articles to platform themselves so that the middle classes could be softened up.

Since those early days, the World Economic Forum meeting in Davos used Thunberg and the global media to manufacture consent for what’s coming - the new fake ‘Net Zero’ world, the '4th industrial revolution’ and next year’s 'New Deal for Nature’.

http://www.wrongkindofgreen.org/2019/10/19/perfect-distractions-and-fantastical-mitigation-plans/

Thunberg herself happily plays along signing the letter about 'Natural Climate Solutions’ that appeared in the Guardian alongside fake green George Monbiot, who also wrote an abysmal column to go with it, which seemed to be more about geoengineering and terraforming than habitat restoration, particularly when the academic references to support his narrative are analysed. This climate-washing of the narrative has got to stop.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/apr/03/natural-world-climate-catastrophe-rewilding

The Climate Emergency Fund (USA), set up by Trevor Neilson and funded by Aileen Getty and Rory Kennedy are just one of the big money foundations who now fund the movement she helped create, Youth Strike. I was at the first big Youth Strike protest in London; it was organic and spontaneous. Children took the roads and risked arrest; the cops brought out mounted patrols, some children were arrested, later de-arrested. I noticed that several people within the UK, who’ve positioned themselves at the heart of the climate movement, people from 350, UK Youth Climate Coalition, Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth etc. were already there on the sidelines, coordinating and framing the media message.

At the second big Youth Strike protest in London, the children were pushed aside, the speakers on the big red bus that positioned itself on Victoria Embankment were now mostly adults. The Trade Unions were now also in attendance, alongside other NGOs like Global Justice Now, War on Want and MPs like Jeremy Corbyn (he gave a great speech that day) and Caroline Lucas (she did not and seemed very irritable afterwards when I tried to speak to her, a first). The SWP were eagerly recruiting youngsters and filling their heads full of propaganda. It was painful to observe.

By the third big protest, the children were told to march aimlessly around the streets of London, whilst 'activists’ from Greenpeace, FoE and 350 who had coordinated the event looked on. Something so energetic faded so quickly. Very little has happened since that day in Autumn last year, although #Covid19 perhaps has also been responsible for muting any efforts to mobilise.

Her marketing team now seems to think a film about her, to go with the numerous books (yes, I’ve read one of them, the speeches have aged very badly) is now what’s required. Roger Hallam recently made a film, called 'The Troublemaker’, it was largely a work of propaganda. I wonder what Greta’s film will say?

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/sep/16/i-am-greta-review-slick-yet-shallow-thunberg-documentary

“Intriguingly, even bafflingly, Grossman’s film begins by showing Thunberg’s pre-famous self as a high-schooler with her homemade climate strike placard, enduring a lonely vigil outside the Stockholm parliament every Friday with a few grumpy older shoppers coming up and telling her off for not being in school. Here she is: the non-famous nobody, and these scenes lead seamlessly to later moments showing her campaign taking off. So … does this mean Grossman has been prophetically following her career from the very beginning?“

This journalist has clearly not been following the story. That all these early protests were filmed shows they had much larger plans.

Do people think any of this is normal? This post is likely to grate with people. If it does, may I suggest you’re emotionally invested in this story and you can’t see what’s really happening. Step back and get some perspective. I invite discussion but nobody is fooling me with what’s happened over the last two years.

https://starecat.com/greta-thunberg-theyve-stolen-my-childhood-hardworking-kid-cool-story-bro/

Many people seem to be of the opinion that Greta can’t be criticised. There’s a confirmation bias in wanting to believe her story, from a one person protest to meeting world leaders, the UN and the Davos set at the World Economic Forum, where she platformed herself alongside David Attenborough and Jane Goodall. These people won’t engage with the narrative that indicates she’s been manufactured. This is compounded by her support from those in XR, who also can’t seem to see their own movement is also constructed and coupled to her story. A lot of the themes in her speeches, that of the planet being 'on fire’ or that we’re running ‘out of time’ are common to XR and Youth Strike and then later authors like Naomi Klein, and are based on mobilising people based on urgency. We’ve seen this go very badly wrong many times, notably in Afghanistan (See Adam Curtis - The Power of Nightmares)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwvSQ56HYg8&list=PL46FkcYcj-72IK9xFcWVRwoIu9Lfsi1S9&index=1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwvSQ56HYg8&list=PL46FkcYcj-72IK9xFcWVRwoIu9Lfsi1S9&index=2

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GB8m6nNWpMA&list=PL46FkcYcj-72IK9xFcWVRwoIu9Lfsi1S9&index=3

In her film trailer, we see the time theme being repeated once again. Her father also continues to perpetuate the myth that she did this on her own.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mwk10YGPFiM

“My name is Greta Thunberg and I want you to panic!” - but this repeated doomerism has had a paralysing effect on many people. Other flanks of people have been mobilised to take action, notably within the UK as XR, which is a larger movement than Youth Strike. However, much of the mobilisation has been about virtue signalling, their virtuous non-violence and colourful boats has meant their movement has failed to really diversify beyond it’s white, middle class base. The movement appears to have now peaked and largely run out of money.

There is also the common theme of expecting governments to act to resolve this. When are people going to realise that’s not going to happen. Parliaments are not going to end capitalism. Who was the last parliamentary candidate who ran on a #degrowth platform? As such, both movements are self defeating and tend to reinforce hierarchy and statism. In the worst case scenario what they are asking for is EcoFascism. If people are struggling to deal with Covid19 restrictions on movement which have only brought about around a 6-7% decrease in greenhouse gas emissions, then how would they cope when they are told the truth about what ‘Net Zero’ would really mean: private cars would be banned, consumption would be drastically reduced along with an end to pointless bullshit jobs, international flights would be rationed and restricted and people in the Global North would have to eat perhaps 75% less meat. Some of us have made or are making these changes already and will be ready for this world when we run out of oil and when critical metal resource depletion also punctures the myth of the electric car.

Net Zero within 5 years is a fallacy. Anyone who’s looked at the data knows this. The Centre for Alternative Technology in Machynlleth, Wales appear to be asking for a radical strategy in stating that a 60% reduction in primary energy usage is required, then you realise that they’ve massively underestimated the actual emissions as they don’t include consumption emissions from overseas. This suggests an 85-90% reduction in energy demand would be required.

Meanwhile the IPCC based their models on a doubling of energy consumption between now and 2050. The pretence is maintained by claiming there are ‘Negative Emissions Technologies’ that will magically sequester away our historical and future carbon debt. The primary technology that they envision will do this, Bioenergy with Carbon Capture and Storage (BECCS) is not yet technically viable and never will be. It’s neither safe, nor ethical and it won’t reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Delaying the urgent mitigation required now leaves a larger problem for future generations. BECCS would also require huge amounts of land, freshwater and fertiliser and would destroy biodiversity, threaten food security and trample on Indigenous land rights. The IPCC ‘science’ that Greta Thunberg claims is her version of the truth, is merely only one part of the picture. There are good scientists and bad scientists. Which ones is she backing?

https://twitter.com/GretaThunberg/status/1318216965639503873

She seems blind to the modelling work going on which assumes that #BECCS is viable and cost effective, a trick of economic models within which subsidies and discounting correct for impossibilities. BECCS will never happen at scale as citizens will mobilise against it. Thus Thunberg’s attempt to lecture Joe Biden, who is well aware of what carbon capture is and has opened the door to it, merely show how little she understands the bigger picture. In the following article, Steve Horn explains how Biden has embraced carbon capture under pressure from oil industry lobbying, which will lead to enhanced oil recovery and won’t reduce emissions.

https://www.drillednews.com/post/biden-climate-change-platform-fossil-fuel-carbon-capture

In reality, what we now have is this pretend world of ‘Net Zero’ False Solutions, where corporations have taken centre stage. Yet, XR, Youth Strike and Greta Thunberg are largely silent on this and are still screaming for governments to take action. In the UK, they did take action as XR suggested and set up a citizen’s assembly, which was then rigged to provide the wrong outcome as these resources clearly show. Under the guidance of the Committee on Climate Change, the process has been captured by false technofix solutions and corporate thinking.

https://www.climateassembly.uk/resources/

The conversation is so far from where it needs to be. Greta now has a film about her life, which will make the middle classes feel like they can change the world if they just shout loudly enough. The trouble is their dominance of the debate and misdirection has wasted two years. Only Covid19 has really reduced emissions, as its forced a much needed reduction in hypermobility and a reduction in oil use.

I hope people can start to see what’s happened over the last two years now. Some folks are waking up to the reality of what needs to be done. No one else is going to fix this mess but us. The only way we can do that is by collectively disengaging from the system, but in more constructive ways, where we can come together, build community and connection. I’ll be writing more about how we do this another time. The solutions need to be centred on mutual aid, land rights, agroecology and permaculture.

#GretaThunberg Privilege Entitlement Affluence

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waiting4inspiration · 5 years

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Just Try XXVI (Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader)

Summary: Bucky tries to think of something to say to your pup growing inside of you. You have an unexpected visit from your brothers - who finally meet the alpha they heard about from your father

Warnings: fluff overload, holy shit I loved writing this part so much,

Just Try Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

As the weeks went by, you started getting your energy back which you were thankful for. It no longer felt like you would fall asleep every time you sat down and the best thing was that you no longer had morning sickness. Another great thing was that the bump was starting to become more prominent. But only when you wore tight-fitting shirts.

You had to make a few changes. Most of your pants didn’t fit anymore and made you resort to wearing sweats most times. Wanda was the one to finally drag you out of the compound to look for some maternity clothes for. Though you told her that you’re fine with what you have, she refused to listen and told you that eventually, Bucky’s shirts wouldn’t fit you and you couldn’t go walking around completely naked.

With the increased energy that you felt, came the increased sex drive too as you went into the second trimester. Apparently, it’s completely normal to feel like that. Google had basically become your best friend along the way as you researched many things that either had you concerned or curious.

Bucky, of course, didn’t mind your elevated sex drive at all. Then again, he was always a sucker for you whenever you would beg for him. Not to mention that every time his eyes landed on that bump protruding from your stomach, a low growl would echo through the air which made your legs tremble.

Nuzzling your nose against Bucky’s neck and taking in a deep breath of his scent, his lips work along your bare shoulder. Sighing in content as your fingers run over the scar on his chest as his cold metal digits sink into the curve of your back. “You’re so beautiful, omega,” he growls against your skin before flipping you over onto your back and hovering above you.

Smiling to yourself as he shifts down the bed and lifts his shirt that you wear up to expose your growing bump. “I read somewhere that pups can hear sounds from the outside world after 16 weeks,” you state, weaving your fingers through his hair as he glances up at you. “And that they’ll recognize their parent’s voice from the moment they are born.”

“Where did you read that?” he questions with a small chuckle and spreads his hand over your stomach.

You shrug your shoulders before moving your hand to rest on the side of the small bump. “I can’t remember. Some article on the internet,” you say as he glances back down. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

He licks his lips as he stares at your stomach before moving his hand slightly up. “I…I don’t know what to say,” he stutters, glancing back up at you as you shift up to lean against the headboard.

Shift up with you, he keeps himself up with one hand as the other stays on the bump. “Anything,” you smile, resting your hand over his. “Say whatever comes to mind.”

Bucky glances back down and his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he tries to think about something. Clearing his throat as something comes to mind, he repositions himself in front of your belly. “I can’t wait to meet you, my little pup,” he says before placing a gentle kiss on your skin. “I never thought that something like this could happen to someone like me. But I’m happy that it did,” he continues, making you smile at him as he softly strokes the bump. “I’m more than happy. I don’t think that there’s a word to explain how happy I am that I found someone as amazing as your mother.”

As he speaks, he glances back up at you as a small tint of red crosses your cheeks. “And I’m so lucky to have her as my omega,” he finishes, moving up to capture your lips in his.

The rest of the day was quite a relaxed affair with the entire team. Sometimes you kind of regret telling them that you’re pregnant because they treat you like a fragile piece of glass sometimes. But, you were quick to establish that you’re capable of doing simple things yourself like getting a glass of water and standing up from a seat without needing all of them trying to help you. After all, you’re still the same person you were before falling pregnant.

While Nat and Clint fought over what movie they should watch next, you chuckle at them and rest your head against Bucky’s chest. “Are we expecting anyone today?” Tony questions, walking into the room and making everyone turn towards him, giving him negative answers. “Then who are these guys?”

He brings up a screen in the middle of the room and the frown on your face falls as you sigh in annoyance. “Oh my God,” you groan, pushing yourself off your seat. “It’s my brothers,” you state, turning around to Bucky who slowly stands up. “I’ll be right back,” you mutter, giving him a small smile before heading out the room.

Outside the compound, you spot your two brothers standing on the lawn and staring at the building in front of them. As you make your way closer to them, they finally pull their gaze away from the building and spot you striding over to them.

“So, that asshole ex of yours was lying all the time,” the older twin, Simon bellows and gestures to your baby bump pressing against your shirt. He then wraps his arms around your body in a tight hug once you reach them.

Laughing happily at him, you pat him on the back before pulling away from him. “Yeah, well, no one can be infertile and related to you at the same time,” Dylan snarks, making his twin glare at him and shove his shoulder. “It’s great to see you, sis,” he chuckles, hugging you a bit more gently than Simon did.

“You too. But seriously, what are you two doing here?” you question, not being able to contain the smile spreading on your face as you cross your arms over your chest.

Simultaneously, they place their hands in their pockets and shrug their shoulders. “We haven’t seen you in a long time,” Simon states before his eyes linger back at the building behind you.

“And we thought, maybe you could give us a tour,” Dylan quickly adds, nodding to the building before Simon wacks him on the shoulder.

“Dude, she was supposed to offer to show us around,” he whispers, making you laugh loudly at them and shake your head. “But more that we wanted to see if what dad said was true.”

“And make sure he isn’t going senile,” Dylan finishes, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes linger on your stomach. “Well, at least now we know that he’s not.”

You notice Simon’s eyes lifting to look at something behind. Bucky’s scent invades your senses as the wind gives a slight blow and you turn your head around to face him. He smiles down at you when he reaches your side and places a small kiss on the top of your head but you know that his eyes stay on your brothers.

As he wraps an arm around your waist, you take in a sharp breath as the three alpha’s stare at each other. “Um, guys this is Bucky. My alpha,” you finally say, breaking the silence and stepping in front of Bucky to break your brothers’ stares. “Buck, these are my brothers, Dylan and Simon,” you state, pointing to each respectively.

“You have a metal arm?” Dylan quickly says, dropping the dominance stance and stares at Bucky’s arm. “We thought that dad made that up. You know, considering how he exaggerates everything.”

Simon rolls his eyes at his brother before unfolding his arms and glaring back at Bucky. “You part of the team, right?” he questions, nodding towards the building and you give him a warning glare to be nice.

“Yeah, I am,” Bucky sternly says, tightening his grip around your waist and resting his hand on the side of your bump.

You silently whisper Simon’s name and shake your head. “So, you’ll be able to protect her like the others have? Maybe even better?” he questions, ignoring your plea and taking a step forward. “Because I’ll tell you now; if something bad happens to her, or you break her heart, I won’t be as nice as I was with the others.”

Biting your lip to stop a giggle to escape your mouth at his surge of confidence, you glance up at Bucky whose eyes darken as he glares at your brother. Dylan on the hand, smirks as his looks between Bucky and Simon. “I would never think about breaking her heart. And trust me, if someone hurt her, they’ll have a bed in the hospital with their name on it for a few months.”

“Okay, that’s enough of trying to size each other up,” you sternly say, place your hand on Simon’s chest and gently pushing him back as you step forward. “Stop it now, Simon,” you bark when you feel a small growl vibrate in his chest. “Can you just act like a normal person for once and see that he’s nothing like William?”

Bucky shifts in his spot at the mention of that name and your brother looks down at you. “We can’t stay for long. Vikky will have my head on a platter if I’m late again,” he states, chuckling as he shares a look with Dylan.

“Yeah, trust us, you don’t want to piss off a pregnant omega,” Dylan says, glancing over at Bucky who gives a short chuckle and a smile as he steps up behind you.

Lacing his finger between yours, you glance up at him. “Well, I know from first-hand experience not piss off your sister,” he mentions, kissing the tip of your nose after you lightly smake his chest.

“That’s because she’s not like any other omega out there,” Simon says, smiling down at you as you turn to face him. “We raised her to not take any shit from anyone.”

Tags: @rororo06 @chameerah @tephi101 @momc95 @lucille-lovely @flokidottir-imagines-br @marvelmenappreciation @spaghettirogers @bookwormmads @veganfangirl5 @wonderlandsdecay @kissakatterna @thewinterwolf @captainamericasbeard @kulteule @collette04 @satellitespidey @marvelgirl7 @bxxbxy @summernykole @tatidark @ek823 @buckaro0 @gracethegeek9902 @oldspirit @rubyquatzshades @classyunknownlover @ben-wyxtt @sasunarushiita @fairlightswiftly @thelostallycat @animegirlgeeky @brokensunflowersworld @mishameadows @hennessy0274-blog @kxttykatmichael @artemis629 @buckaroobarnes28 @redhairedfeistynerd @mrsalh32611 @3dsaunt @benegrido @lokilover-39 @kat-the-oddity @rainbowkisses31 @amis123love @only-good-sensation

#alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #james bucky barnes #alpha bucky #bucky abo #abo dynamics #the avengers #the avengers imagine #the avengers imagines #just try

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winchester-fantasies · 5 years

Text

An Inconvenient Flame (Part Three)

Series Summary: You’ve known Sam and Dean Winchester all your life. You find you have developed an attraction for the eldest Winchester, but Dean has never indicated he felt anything more for you than a little sister. A late night encounter causes Dean to question his own feelings for you, but with your age gap, he’s hesitant to let anything grow beyond attraction. Things come to a head when a case forces you together. Will these embers of attraction lay buried or will this inconvenient flame of desire become an inferno?

Word Count: 1945

Warnings: swearing, light angst

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

The next morning, you and Dean checked into a dilapidated motel. The previous night you had slept in the Impala, Dean taking the front and you taking the back. It had been relatively easy to sleep despite the cramped space and your head resting on nothing but your jacket. Dean’s soft snores had lulled you to sleep, and your dreams had been pleasantly plagued by him.

When Dean requested a room with two queens, the lady behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with evidently permed hair and bloodshot eyes, shook her head. “Sorry, hon. We’re out of those. All I have left’s a full,” she said, voice raspy.

You felt nervousness creep into your stomach at the thought of having to sleep in the same bed as Dean. He gave you a look, silently asking if you were okay with that arrangement. You nodded but swallowed when he turned back to pay.

After getting your things from the Impala, you walked toward your room. As Dean unlocked the door, he turned back to you. “I can take the couch,” he offered before heading inside. Once the lights were on; however, it was obvious there was no couch, only a chair. Dean looked around sheepishly before glancing at you. “I can take the floor?” he again offered, this time uncertainty in his voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you stated, rolling your eyes. “We’re only going to be here for a few days anyway. I think I can manage sharing a bed with you,” you continued with a playful smirk. Dean chuckled in return and went to set down his bag at the foot of the bed.

“So listen,” Dean said, making you turn from closing and locking the door. “I talked to Bobby before we left, and he said he’s gotten a lead from a friend of his about the demons.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise as he continued, “His friend only lives two towns over.”

“Serious?” you asked in excitement. “And Bobby’s okay with us checking it out?”

Dean shrugged. “He seemed to be. Said he talked with his friend and said he’s willing to help us out. Apparently this friend is super loaded and has a shit ton of connections. Those connections helped him find an equally loaded guy. Goes by the name of Lowell - who also just happens to be a demon.”

You took a moment before replying, taking everything in that Dean had just told you. “Wow,” you finally said. “What’s the plan then?”

“I know we’ve got to take care of this salt and burn, but then after we can deal with this demon business,” Dean answered.

You were excited at the prospect of actually getting some answers, but you were hesitant. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Dean?” you asked.

Dean got up and started rifling through his duffle. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked as he took out a bottle of bourbon.

“Because it’s only been a year since...everything,” you said quietly, not wanting to even speak that woman’s name.

You saw Dean tense up at the mention of the previous year, but when he turned back to you, he smiled. “I’m good. I’ll be fine.”

You sighed and gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Alright,” you answered with a nod. You weren’t about to start arguing with him. You’d just have to trust he knew what he was doing, and if he didn’t, you’d be there to pick up all the pieces.

**********

You lay in bed facing the wall, your back towards Dean. You had scooted as far to the edge of the bed as you could, making sure you gave him plenty of space. However, it didn’t seem to matter how far you were from him, he seemed to permeate everything around you, even the air you breathed.

The room was dark, and all you could hear was his breathing, soft, slow, and steady. It was a comforting sound, and you soon found yourself on the verge of sleep. Just as you were about to succumb to its sweet embrace, you felt Dean move and knew he had turned to face you.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered.

You felt butterflies fill your stomach at his low, gravelly voice, and it took you a moment to respond. “Yes?” you asked quietly.

“You never did finish telling me what you were saying yesterday,” he said, his voice still a gruff whisper.

At first you couldn’t recall what he was talking about, then the you remembered you had started to apologize when Sam had interrupted you. “Oh, yeah, I didn’t did I?” you said. You turned over to face him. You couldn’t see his face in the pitch-black room, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Nope, you didn’t,” he chuckled.

“I just...I’m sorry that I treated you that way the other night, Dean. I had a little too much to drink, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I know that’s a shitty excuse, and it doesn’t excuse my actions. I know you were just watching out for me.” Dean was silent. You waited, nervousness pricking at your insides. It killed you to not know what he was thinking or to see his facial expression.

“I was just trying to watch out for you,” he finally answered, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding. “But you’re also right,” Dean continued, “that I’m not your father, and I should mind my own damn business.”

“No, no, Dean,” you said, reaching out and touching his arm or at least what you hoped was his arm. “I really appreciate your concern. You’re a great friend. I really don’t know what I would do without you. Thank you for always being here, even when I fuck up.”

You removed your hand and waited for a reply from Dean. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I can be such a great...friend,” he replied. Was that disappointment you heard in his voice? You didn’t have a chance to ask him if he was alright before he turned back over. “Good night, (Y/N),” he said.

“Good night, Dean,” you answered. You turned your back to him. After a few minutes, his soft snores filled the air, and you sighed contentedly. It felt wonderful sharing a bed with him. The only thing that would make it better was if he had his arm around you. But you’d take whatever you could.

**********

The next morning found both you and Dean sitting in the local library. You had come to research the history of the town in order to gain information regarding the old Milligan property. Everyone in town agreed the old mansion was haunted, but when you and Dean asked around about the elderly couple who had both died five years before, you had discovered they had both been cremated. Dean thought it unlikely it was them after further discovering that the supposed haunting had been taking place for well over a hundred years. For some reason most of the articles you had already read online failed to mention that very important piece of information, instead choosing to focus on the Milligans’ deaths.

The library wasn’t busy. Probably due to it being a Wednesday, you reasoned. Usually you relished the quiet; it helped you to focus when you were researching. But right now, you found it nearly impossible to get anything done. Dean was seated next to you, his focus purely on the historical records from the 1920′s, trying to find anything that might help identify who you were up against. Normally, you didn’t have a problem being so close to Dean - you had researched plenty of times together - but something about this hunt felt different. You were keenly aware of every move he made, every page he turned, every book he opened and closed, and it was driving you crazy.

You cleared you throat and mentally shook your head, attempting to clear your thoughts and get your mind back to the job at hand. It seemed to work for a few minutes as you relaxed, actually enjoying what you were reading. However, it was short-lived when you suddenly felt Dean’s knee against yours. It was soft, barely noticeable over you pant leg. But you could feel it, and electricity shot up your leg and into your stomach.

You paused from your reading and sat still. You expected him to move his leg back when he realized he had just touched you, but he made no attempt to move or didn’t realize he was touching you and instead his leg remained where it was. You didn’t wan to be weird and look at him or move away. He would think you felt uncomfortable with him being so close when, in reality, it was the total opposite.

You ignored it, and instead turned your attention back to the book. You were almost about to give up due to your mind being so distracted by Dean and the butterflies swirling in your stomach, when your eyes suddenly stumbled upon a story.

“Here!” you exclaimed, your finger pointing excitedly at the paragraph you had just read. You looked up at Dean and saw his eyes light up in interest. You could tell he was glad he didn’t have to read anymore. Research was his least favorite part about hunting, and he usually left it up to you and Sam to do.

Dean jumped up from his chair and came to stand beside you, looking over your shoulder. “Where?” he questioned, scanning over the text.

His close proximity made you dizzy and for a moment you found it hard to think, let alone speak. But finally you found your voice and pointed back to the paragraph. “Here. It says that there was a family who lived in the Milligan mansion back in 1900. However, it was called Rosewood Estate back then. Anyway, the family’s name was Buchanan. They had seven kids, but supposedly one of them, a little girl named Emma, dealt with mental illness. Well, instead of getting her the help she needed, her parents locked her in the attic. She wasn’t allowed to socialize, not even with her own family.

Apparently they were a very prominent family in the community, and they felt that if people found out about their daughter and her illness that it would turn into a scandal, especially since Mr. Buchanan was running for mayor at the time. It seems nobody even knew they had a seventh child until Buchanan was charged with bribery, coercion, and embezzlement. When the authorities searched the house for the embezzled money, the attic was one of the first places they inspected. That’s when they discovered little Emma. However, she was already dead, having died from starvation according to the coroner at the time.”

Dean whistled softly. “Talk about fucked up,” he stated.

“Yeah,” you said with a harsh chuckle. You looked up at Dean who was silently reading over the text again. You could tell he was taking everything in and wasn’t even aware you were watching him. He was so close you could see the freckles that dotted his cheeks and ran over the bridge of his nose. God, he was handsome.

You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the desire that began to creep into your core. “So, what do you think?” you asked.

He glanced at you before straightening. “I think you’re onto something. Lets go take a look at the old mansion and see if we can take care of Emma.”

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