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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

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Prince of Nothing II

~ Part Two of Five ~

Release Date: May 6,2020 @ 8 pm

Word Count: 7,683

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid, as well as implied, descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

Jeon Jungkook’s study looked like something out of a movie: its Victorian architecture, all black interior, the bar by the side and even the tall glass paned windows behind him made him resemble a villain and not a prince. Jungkook wasn’t too particular about titles however. Currently the prince was supposed to be supervising the kingdom, approving new legislature, and signing a new bill which would only benefit the nobles more though it’d give the appearance of helping the poor. Speaking of the poor. Jungkook couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, as the conversation he’d held the night before replayed in his head. YN was certainly an interesting person, not quite like anyone he’d ever met before. Considering her lineage Jungkook had never actually met anyone like her before.

Discarding the paperwork, Jungkook reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the necklace that once adorned the village girl’s neck. It shined in the early morning light, Jungkook should return it to her the next time they saw each other but the necklace was a weapon now. Another pawn in Jungkook’s lifelong chess game and he’d be willing to sacrifice an object that meant a lot to her, if it meant bringing them closer.

Knuckles rasp against the wooden doors, Jungkook mumbles giving the person on the other side permission to enter. Kim Baekhyung was a member of the prince’s personal guard, becoming so when he’d pledged loyalty to Jungkook and no one else. Which allowed him the freedom of strolling into the prince’s private office like a guest rather than a palace employee. Baekhyun briefly glanced at the necklace before bowing slightly, “The king has requested your presence, your highness.” Jungkook cocked a brow at Baekhyun’s mannerisms, it wasn’t until the latter nudged his head slightly towards the door that the prince grasped it.

New guards had been placed outside his door instead of the ones he was accustomed to. It seems his father was getting more paranoid every day. Good, that only worked to Jungkook’s favor. “Let us go then, best not to keep his majesty waiting for long.”

King Jeon the II was a man of stoic nature and few words, at least that is what the public believed. The son of Jeon the I who inherited his father’s throne had aged significantly in the past few years. Wrinkles and harsh lines chiseled into his features as if done by a sculpture, he was not an unattractive man simply one past his prime. Jungkook had been told time and time again he resembled his father when younger, though he knew that was only because the late Queen was not to be spoken of. Were he a decent man Jungkook would try to steer clear of the subject of his mother to avoid adding salt to old wounds, but there was no affection between the two. Jungkook was to be king not because he deserved the title, though the younger might argue he did, but because of nepotism.

Not to mention after three centuries of Jeon rule, it’d be pointless to stop now. Still there was one thing Jungkook had always desired from his father, something he desired even now as he looked at his father with nothing but pure apathy: his respect.

Jeon looked down at his son, mouth turned downward into a scowl which only accentuated his frown lines more. “I heard of the spectacle you orchestrated this morning. Conspiring against the crown and attacking a member of the court, is it?” The glare Jeon directed towards his son was likely meant to intimidate his son, but all it caused was a grin to break out on Jungkook’s face. “Did you enjoy it father?” Jeon only sneered in response, “The court and the gallows aren’t your playground, Jungkook. If you’re bored find entertainment elsewhere, but refrain from cutting people’s heads off or I’ll have to cut yours!” The anger had caused the tendon’s on the side of his father’s neck to stick out, indicating how infuriated the king truly was. Well then.

Being the sly man that he is Jungkook let his lips fall into a pout and batted his eyes; his mother’s eyes. Once Jeon gazed upon them a bit of tension left his shoulders and Jungkook knew he had him in the bag. “But daddy, I was merely getting rid of our enemies. Protecting the land as you taught me to.” His voice was perhaps too whiny, but it reminded Jeon of a time when Jungkook had been younger - less of a threat. Nothing but a small child crying over his mother. It seems his old age was catching up to him, for Jeon took the bait his son had laid out for him.

“Enemies?”

“The last of the Kim’s. A direct descendent too, not like that bastard that lies beyond the borders.” Jungkook saw the doubt creep into his father’s eyes, and knew his words weren’t enough. Jungkook fished the necklace out of his pocket, allowing the ornament to gleam in the light. For a second, and only a second, Jungkook swore he saw fear flash in his father’s eyes but it was gone instantly. Replaced with the mask of the cruel heartless ruler the kingdom knew. Jeon cleared his throat, “The Kim’s haven’t been a threat for over a hundred years. They hold no power, they’re merely has beens that cling onto hope.”

“Hope can be a powerful thing. Our ancestors once hoped they would rule the kingdom and look at us now.”

Jungkook smirked at his father’s silence, but his lips quickly turned downward at the king’s next words. “What of the girl?”

“What girl?”

“Don’t play the fool with me boy! Is she not a Kim too?! Is she not a threat?!”

“She’s adopted.”

“Was the necklace not on her neck?”

A laugh tore through the prince, “If you’re that worried I’ll kill her too. Order the guards to burn down her house, drag her out, and have a little fun with her before she dies. Is that what you want?” Jeon’s coal black eyes pierced into his son’s, as if trying to look into Jungkook’s soul. The king was relieved when he found no such thing. Finally the king relents, “It may draw too much attention to execute them both. Let us not give the people a martyr to rally behind.” The prince nodded before excusing himself, his father’s final words replaying in his head.

“Make sure to keep her close, she may yet be of use to us.”

Jungkook smirked, making his way down the stairs to play with his new toy.

“Have you heard?”

“There’s a lot of things I hear darling, you ought to be more specific.” Namjoon rolled his eyes, stretching over to lightly hit Seokjin’s naked torso. Seokjin ignored his indiscretion and focused on the softness of the bed beneath them. “A young boy was just executed for conspiring against the crown.” Beside him Seokjin sighed, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. He turned to meet Namjoon’s worried gape. Another casualty. Another fighter they’ve lost. Another thing lost to the Jeon’s.

“Did we lose another one?” Seokjin already knew the answer to the question, but every time he’d hope for a different answer.

“He wasn’t one of us.”

Now that did peak his interest, but from the excitement present on Namjoon’s face it seemed the man was reading too much into it. “Darling, if anyone so much as looks at a Jeon the wrong way they’re accused of conspiring against the crown.” His words had little effect though and even Seokjin couldn’t deny the hope that spread through his body of what this could mean for the movement. Still a leader must always remain neutral in the face of change, so that is what Seokjin did. Even when his lover asked if he should investigate, “Do as you want, but don’t stir the pot. I don’t need crazy old Jeon sending his guards to attack again.” They wouldn’t survive another strike.

As the conversation died, Seokjin placed a small kiss on Namjoon’s shoulder before winking. “Now what were we doing?”

Soojin hated tea. Despised it’s bitterness and how bland it tasted to her, it dulled her senses. Nonetheless she drank it with a smile on her face, one she could do in her sleep. Princesses always smile and Soojin had always known she’d be a princess so it was part of her duty to behave as one. It didn’t matter that smiling so much felt unnatural and would only lead to premature wrinkles, which she would then be ridiculed for. Though she would be callous if she didn’t smile either. Her mother rambled on and on about gossip she’d heard from her friends and would often take breaks in between to criticize how much Soojin had ‘let herself go.’ Visiting her mother was always a pleasant experience.

The teacup was now empty and Lady Seo had taken it upon herself to refill it once more without asking her daughter. Soojin knew what this meeting was about, the same thing all their meetings had been about since Soojin had gone to live with the Jeon’s. “Mother.” Lady Seo looked up at her daughter’s face, “Let us not beat around the bush any longer.” At this the woman scoffed, “I see your manners have faltered since living in the palace. Tell me is that any way to talk to your mother?” No, but it is how I talk to a nuisance. Soojin smiled, eyes becoming small crescents.

“Mother dear, why have you invited me over, so abruptly as well? Is something the matter?”

Lady Seo set down her cup, the small ‘clink’ it made when it touched the saucer let Soojin know the small talk had ended. “Has a date been set for the wedding?” Soojin leaned back against the chair, disbelief on her face. From the second, Soojin had come out of her womb she’d been a means to an end. Something for which to obtain power, what greater power was there than marrying a Jeon. From the sharp look Lady Seo sent her, Soojin straightened right away. Not wanting to upset her mother further than this conversation probably would.

“The king has been ill as of late. The wedding is postponed until he is in better health.” That is the excuse she had been feeding those around her for the past couple of months, in order to keep the sharks at bay. Truthfully Jungkook was in no rush to get married and one could never force a Jeon’s hand. Her mother, as always, saw through her lies. “You’re losing the prince’s favor.” Soojin hissed, “Jungkook and I have been engaged since we were children.”

“And yet never have the Jeon’s made a move to fulfill their promise.”

At this there was silence, Soojin cast a glance towards the gardens, viewing the vast array of colors that spread through it. The harvest had been good and the incoming summer would only bring more goods with which to feed the kingdom with. Lady Seo reached out and captured Soojin’s hand, “Child,” the tone was affirmative yet still soothing somehow, “Alliances are like crops: one can plant the seed, water it, care for it, do everything right and even then they might not bloom.” Soojin knew exactly where this was headed, she rolled her eyes leaning over the table to make sure her mother paid attention to her words.

“The Jeons won’t break their promise. They are loyal to us and won’t do anything that’ll threaten the peace of the kingdom.”

“The Jeons are only loyal to themselves! They do not care if this marriage brings peace because they prosper in war. Lest you forget how they rose to power.”

Soojin recoiled pulling her hand out of her mother’s grasp. She knew very well what kind of family she was marrying into, but she couldn’t care less. Their reputation preceded them and Soojin had never once laid witness to the cruelty the Jeon’s supposedly inflicted. Truthfully she’d never done anything to elicit it. Only fools would try a royal’s hand and from what Jungkook had told her, along with what she’d grown up reading, the Kim’s were no better when they were in power. Seeing that her daughter wouldn’t be swayed on her position, Lady Seo switched topics.

“Have you bed?”

“No, of course not. You ought to know better.”

Lady Seo smirked, “So that means he is seeking pleasure from other women.”

“There are no other women in Jungkook’s life, mother.”

“What about that woman?”

Soojin paused, feeling words die in her mouth; She’d lived her entire life paranoid, but said woman had yet to show. She was beginning to believe it had been nothing but a silly story meant to frighten her. “Jungkook has no interest in other women, none but me.” Her mother once again picked up the tea cup bringing it towards her lips, “Let us hope that is true.”

“YN!YN!” Her brother looks around panicked, begging for mercy as he is placed on the false bottom and the noose is placed around his neck. It is then that their eyes finally meet, Hyunshik staring straight into YN’s eyes, his mouth moving gently as he stares at her with nothing but affection. ‘I love you.’ He mouths. The lever is pulled. Hyunshik's body drops, the sudden force causing the noose to tighten and his neck to snap under the pressure.

YN thinks it might’ve been better if he’d been led away that way she wouldn’t have to see her brother’s dead eyes piercing into her soul. As if begging her to save him. To help him. YN could hear the silent pleading wails that left his lips, wrapping around her, bouncing around her. Like a broken record that played in her head - threatening to drive her insane. The screams rang on and on and on, until YN felt her consciousness slipping.

YN awoke on the bed with Morte wrapped around her leg. The giant mamba’s head resting on the inner part of your ankle, not allowing much movement. YN glanced around the room, gathering that she was back in the same room Jinyoung had escorted her to the previous night. There was dull throbbing from the back of her head, presumably from hitting it. Tentatively she stood up trying not to move too rapidly in an effort not to frighten the serpent lest she want another bite. Thankfully Morte uncoils himself and slithers beneath the bed sheets seeking warmth. YN quickly stands up and races towards the door, fiddling the knob only to find it locked, the only other escape was the balcony which was also locked. She pounded harshly against the glass as if the sheer force would cause it to shatter and allow her an escape.

YN didn’t know how much time had passed, the world outside standing still as the walls began to close around her. All at once it hit her: she was trapped. YN legs gave out and she crumbled to the floor a long wail exiting her as sobs wracked through her body. The last time she had cried this much was when her parents had died, at the time Hyunshik had been there to comfort her. Her brother had held her tight, his own eyes red with unshed tears as he swore to always protect her - to always remain by her side - now he was gone. It was all her fault. All her doing. No...it was all Jungkook’s doing. YN peered up from the floor, all the anguish suddenly replaced with rage. Jeon Jungkook, the crown prince, had killed her brother and all because he was bored.

YN didn’t understand why she was still alive or even in the castle. One would assume once the tyrant prince was done with his little game, he would simply toss her aside. However, for one reason or another he had kept her around. Be it boredom or simply to torment her even more, it seems Jungkook had found himself a new toy. A brief image of last night flashed before her eyes and YN now remembered his words, how vague he’d been when he promised to save her brother. “From imprisonment?” Jungkook had planned it all along. From the corner of her eye, YN could see the snake move underneath the bedding. It moved inconspicuously, had she not been paying attention she would've missed it and YN was certain that in poorer lighting the creature couldn’t be seen at all. A plan hatched in her head.

It was once the sun began to set that YN heard sounds beyond the door before the doorknob turned. Soon entered a lean girl with sharp symmetrical features who appeared almost doll-like in nature. She held a large gift box in her arms, which she hugged tightly when she bowed. Her orange hair falling like a curtain across her features, “Hello Mistress, my name is Sana. I’ve been assigned to be your personal maid as of today.” YN’s eyes widened with confusion, “I’m sorry I think there has been some mistake. Please stand up.” Sana’s back straightened once she was given permission. “You are YN, right? I’ve been assigned by the prince, it is my duty to serve you as well as help you adjust to life in court.” A million thoughts ran through YN’s head that she couldn’t understand. There was a game being played here, yet she didn’t understand the rules - much less what she ought to do.

Sana quickly moved to set the box down on the bed before YN grasped her arm, “Don’t! Morte is there.” Sana stilled in fear, her pink skin suddenly turning a pale white. “T-the prince’s pet?” YN nodded, the look on Sana’s face led her to believe there was reason to fear the viper - for more than simply a bite. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Sana quickly shook her head, adjusting a bright smile back onto her face. “No worries Mistress. I was simply unprepared, usually the animal does not stray far from the Prince’s side. There was a hidden meaning in those words, but YN didn’t understand enough.

“Please just call me YN.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. It would be seen as disrespectful...I would get in trouble for it.”

“But I am no one of value.”

“Are you not the Prince’s mistress?”

YN felt her heart skip a beat as the words rang in her ears, “What?” Surely, she misheard or Sana was mistaken. It couldn’t possibly be true.

“I was informed that I was to be your personal maid, as you are the Prince’s mistress. He has declared you as such.” It appears Jeon Jungkook was much crueler than YN could ever conceive.

YN didn’t speak much for the rest of the day, only answering Sana when she asked whether she preferred the scent of violets or roses in her bath, she’d responded with ‘whichever you think smells the nicest’ and when Sana had asked if she’d like her long hair to be braided. A small smile had been her response. YN found she was mostly numb to it all, her mind working rapidly to try and understand the chaos occurring around her whilst her body seemed to function in an automatic state. Only reacting when Sana finally opened the gift box and pulled out a lavish gown, “The Prince wishes to see you tonight. I was asked to get you ready.” Those were the words to ground her.

“Where?”

“In his room of course.” The quick side eye Sana gave her, let YN know that though she’d been polite there was still judgement for the supposed relationship Jungkook had led everyone to believe they had. YN rested against the bed, “Sana I am feeling unwell, is there anyway I could reschedule said meeting.”

“I’m afraid the prince is not someone to be challenged, Mistress.”

“Hm,” YN pretended to ponder for a second. “What if the prince were to see me here?” Sana seemed to think of this, but she also understood what was being asked of her. Their eyes met, silent words were exchanged between the two women.

“I don’t see why I can’t ask.” YN smiled inwardly in victory.

Another meal had been assembled: servants trickling in and assembling the table, chairs, and tableware. It didn’t go unmissed by YN that all of them were female - of varying ages - but female nonetheless. Slowly they all exited the room, but not before bowing and sending harsh glares her way. Sana lingered enough to keep her company and serve her champagne, but eventually she too excused herself and stated it was too late. Leaving YN alone with her thoughts, wondering whether what she was about to do next was the right thing or whether it would only invoke further peril in her life. It’s worth the risk. YN had nothing left to lose after all, or so she thought.

Goosebumps rose steadily across her arms, the air around her shifting as the temperature dropped. A breath of warm air brushed her ear, “You called?” YN whips around in her seat to see Jeon Jungkook standing behind her. His passing gaze was predatory, lustful, she had been wrong about being a toy - she was prey. The grip YN held on the champagne flute tightened immensely as she willed herself to calm down, lest the plan be ruined. Jungkook quirked an eyebrow awaiting her response.

“Good evening. I hope it’s not a bother.” from the expression on his face those were not the first words he expected to come out of her mouth. “I’d like to thank you...for saving my brother.” Jungkook’s eyes became hooded with contempt. The Prince had been expecting more theatrics: crying, screaming, sobbing, the promise of vengeance and death upon him. Yet YN looked at him calmly and drank the Clicquot as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if they were old friends meeting for dinner, companions, but he knew better. Behind the facade there was fire raging inside her eyes.

“Were you not present at the trial?”

“I thought it would be imprudent to leave. I am your guest and you did not dismiss me.”

“You trust me so that you would remain in the palace?”

“You gave me your word...you swore on the lives of everyone in the kingdom. Why would you lie?”

For what may have been the first time in his life the Prince was at a loss for words. He stood frozen on the spot, heart racing as several thoughts ran through his head. Tentatively, YN reached forward to touch him. “Are you alright?” Jungkook gripped her hand in midair, it’s hold was iron-clad. Unbreakable. A smile forced himself onto the Prince’s face, YN had to admit to herself it was beautiful. The eighth wonder of the world. Jungkook turned her hand over, bringing it up to his lips and brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Your brother is on his way back home. I’ll allow you to return to him tomorrow.”

A grin broke out over YN’s face, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, well let’s eat then.” She readjusted herself and her free hand gripped a piece of tableware.

Jungkook hummed in displeasure, “I’m not that hungry.” Though his eyes stated the opposite. YN’s eyes trailed up to meet his, she was surprised by the emptiness that stared back at her. He truly has no soul. Before Jungkook could pierce into hers and figure out her plan YN spoke, “Then I’d like to demonstrate my gratitude.” Taking advantage that Jungkook had yet to release her other hand, YN used that to guide him towards the bed. She leaned in closer and closer, until there were mere centimeters separating them from each other then she grabbed him and pushed him onto the bed - straddling him to ensure he didn’t leave.

Jungkook chuckled, eyes alight with amusement. “How do you plan to repay me?” At the sudden movement, something shifted under the sheets. YN allowed her lips to brush his drawing all his attention as she lightly shoved him again so that he lay on the bed. “Like this.” Suddenly from underneath the sheets Morte darted out, fangs poised but instead of sinking his teeth into Jungkook the viper wrapped himself tightly around his master’s arm. Jungkook laughed maniacally, “That’s it? That was your big plan? To kill me with my own pet?!” In the midst of his mocking, the Prince had left his guard down and YN took the advantage to sheath the tableware she’d grabbed from the table - plunging the knife into his heart.

There was a tense silence before Jungkook finally glanced down at the knife and then his eyes met hers. Dark matter swirled around the chocolate orbs as his pupils dilated until they consumed the entirety of his eye. Jungkook raised his hand and with the flick of a wrist sent YN flying backwards until she crashed against the wall, as if she were nothing but a rag doll. Jungkook looked down at the knife once more, before chuckling. “I must say YN, you’ve exceeded my expectations.” YN dropped to the ground, the force causing the wind to be knocked out of her. “Truly you are one of a kind, I might just have to keep you. You’re as special as they come, darling.” YN barely managed to pick herself off the floor as she heard the sound of footsteps heading towards her.

YN looked up to see Jungkook standing above her, the Prince smiling down at her as if nothing was wrong. Knife still wedged in his torso. Ever so gently Jungkook gripped the handle of the steak knife and pulled on it, the second the last of the bloodied metal exited his body the serpent coiled around his arm dropped dead. Dread spread throughout YN’s body at what she had just witnessed. Growing up she heard stories about the Jeons’ rise to power: some say it was a coup, others say they’d been handed the throne when the previous monarch proved unable to govern, but truth is stranger than fiction. The truth of the matter is that the Jeon’s showed up outside the Palace gates one clear eve and by dawn they’d seized control of the most powerful kingdom on Earth.

Fear raked through her body as Jungkook crouched down, the only evidence of the stabbing being the torn clothing. The dilated pupil served as a mirror and in it YN saw her horrified expression. The Prince reached out and gently caressed her cheek, “Tell me YN, are you the fool or the fooler?” A sadistic smirk was stretched across his features, as Jungkook drank her figure in. “The fool.” YN whispered shakily.

A small ‘tsk’ left his lips before he shook his head, “No, you are neither.” There was something in the air, both of them could feel it though they would each interpret it differently. However, there was one thing they could both agree on: this was the beginning of the end.

“What am I then?”

“My Queen.”

Upon Soojin’s return to the palace she could immediately tell something was different. She felt as if she was being watched, though that was often the case as she was the prince’s fiance, things felt different now. Whispers and giggles seemed to surround her the second she stepped back in, as if there was some inside joke she was not privy to. Still Soojin had spent her entire life at court and knew that they were no better than a pack of wolves ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Instead of paying mind, Seo Soojin simply held her head up high and tried to ignore the unsettling feeling that was bubbling under her skin. It wasn’t until lunch time rolled around, that she found it could be ignored no longer.

Jungkook was nowhere to be found and no members of the court had approached her to have tea or join her for lunch as they usually did. Soojin never accepted, but it was the action that mattered. She never rejected out of a place of malice, truthfully she longed for company, but the people here were not her friends. They sought to benefit themselves and gave no care about who or what they had to sacrifice, the bad thing was they hid said intentions behind sugary smiles and bitter compliments. At least the Jeons were honest about their intentions, no one could ever accuse them of dishonesty for they had no reason to lie. It is what comes with power.

Soojin longed for that power, if only for the comfort it provided, no one ever went against a prince or a king. No one ever talked badly about a princess. Of course, the title was still placed on her but it was not hers to claim. Soojin was not a princess by blood, but through marriage and that made all the difference in the world. The throne and the crown would not belong to her, until she bore an heir. Only then would she be a queen. Only then would she be a Jeon.

“What is all the gossiping about?”

Her attention was focused on the maid currently serving her drink, the girl was young and clumsy in appearance. “I’m sorry, princess. What do you mean?” Soojin rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Why is everyone acting so strange? Has something happened while I was gone?” The girl looked to the side sheepishly, “Well you see…” Was it the king? Had he finally gotten better? Maybe the date had been decided? Maybe Jungkook had finally convinced his father or forgoed him all together? All the intense training and torture Soojin had undergone would finally pay off, she’d be a Jeon and no one would ever harm her again. That stupid witch was a liar, she got what she deserved. For the first time in years, hope filled Soojin - only to be crushed shortly afterwards.

“The Prince has taken a mistress, they intend to wed.”

It should be noted Soojin didn’t even remember hitting the girl, only felt the stinging of her hand later on. She did not recall calling for the guards and demanding she be imprisoned for lying to her. Soojin did not recall much of what happened in the next few moments because she was not truly present, her mind had travelled back to when she was thirteen years old and the engagement was announced. To the time her best friend was killed for daring to touch what belonged to a Jeon.

It was all in vain.

“Princess Soojin is here to see you, your highness.” Baekhyung bowed deeply, Jungkook nodded before turning back to the Royal Zookeeper. Jungkook studied the various animals in their enclosures taking his time to weigh the benefits of each. Soojin stepped into the Palace’s greenhouse, her heels clicking on the glass floor. She sent a quick look of acknowledgment to the zookeeper before focusing on Jungkook, who seemed completely enthralled in the animals. “Jungkook if I could please speak with you a moment.” Jungkook gave a quick nod, but besides that kept glancing at the different terrariums. Soojin cleared her throat, causing the zookeeper to excuse himself.

“No, stay,” Jungkook spoke clearly. He pointed at one of the animals, “I’d like to look at that one.” The zookeeper had no choice, but to remain. He extracted the animal gently and showed it to the Prince whose eyes gleamed with wonder.

Soojin would never understand Jungkook’s fascination with snakes but figured it had something to do with them being a part of the family's sigil. “I’ve heard discerning rumors being spread by the staff. They would cause quite a commotion if they reached the court so I put a stop to them.” Seeing as the Prince was paying her no mind, and there was a crowd, Soojin went to walk away settling on leaving the matter for when they were in private. Jungkook had other ideas.

“What is the rumor?” His voice was apathetic as he allowed the serpent to coil around his arm and travel, the zookeeper’s eyes widened at the courage the prince displayed. It was truly a lack of fear that he possessed.

“What?” Soojin’s voice wavered ever so slightly, but she knew it would not go unnoticed.

“I assume it must be grave. Why else would you seek me out and waste my time with such nuisances.” Jungkook finally turned to look at Soojin, his eyes were devoid of emotion and his tone hinted at annoyance. For as long as she could remember Jungkook had always been polite, there was never any sincerity in it but he would never be cold towards her. Soojin would’ve preferred if he screamed at her, told her she was a waste of space. That she could deal with. That she was used to. The look in Jungkook’s eyes right now made her want to scream, it was...indifferent. As if she meant absolutely nothing to him.

“Jungkook -”

“So what is it?”

Soojin schooled herself before allowing her sharp tongue to move, “They say you’ve taken a mistress. Can you believe that?” Her words were laced with poison, but Seo Soojin had spent so long wanting to become a Jeon that she forgot she was a lion and not a snake.

Jungkook smirked, “News travels fast, huh?” His words sunk into her skin like poison, draining the color from her face. “You can’t be serious.”

The prince rolled his eyes, “Soojin in all the years that you’ve known me, have I ever cracked a joke?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Jungkook focused his attention back on the zookeeper whose shock at what he’d just witnessed had left him paler than the reptile in Jungkook’s hand. “I’ll take him. I’ll take the mamba too, unfortunately, my old one was too weak.” The zookeeper rushed to take out the black mamba and held it out to the prince.

“This one is as strong as they come, though I must warn you these two types don’t typically mix.”

“That’s not a problem. They’ll either learn to coexist or kill each other, either is fine with me.”

YN had been locked inside for three days. Food had been brought to her by staff, all female of course, and Sana was only allowed to visit a few times a day. It was more to ensure she didn’t attempt anything than to actually keep her company. This was her punishment for attempting to murder the crown prince - truthfully she should be on her way to the guillotine if not dead already - but Jungkook had merely sealed her in the unfamiliar room with the promise to return once her punishment was over. YN feared that moment more than death itself. Unfortunately, as fate seemed to enjoy torturing her that moment came all too soon. The bedroom doors opened and in strolled Jungkook with a smile on his face.

“I’ve brought you a present.”

YN had never been a cowardly person, but after having witnessed what could only be described as otherworldly she lived in fear of Jungkook. The funny thing about fear is that it can coexist with hate; the two flames feeding with and off each other constantly. YN was curled on one of the couches, her position fetal-like as she watched with trepidation as Jungkook drew nearer. Slowly the Prince dug into his pocket, YN felt her survival instinct kick in as she prepared to fight, until he pulled a small snake out. He held his hand out and placed the white ball python on top of her knees.

“This is Vito. I got him for you as a gift.” The snake’s small red eyes pierced into YN’s, she held her hand out and the snake slithered into it. Settling on her palm and enjoying its warmth. Jungkook merely observed the interaction, “I got you a constrictor seeing as you’re more of a first-degree murder type than a second or third.” He seemed to find his joke funny, but YN simply glared at him.

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long will you trap me in this fucking room?! I played your game. I lost. You won. Aren’t you satisfied? Isn’t it enough?” YN rambled, voice broken and desperate. Jungkook shrugged, “No. The real game has yet to begin.” YN reached out to grab onto Jungkook, but froze when Vito wrapped tightly around her hand squeezing painfully hard. She winced in pain, unable to help herself. “Better be careful.” Jungkook grabbed the snake and uncoiled it, letting it rest on the couch beside her. “Snakes are dangerous creatures. Such a dichotomous being, yet they won’t attack unless provoked.” His eyes met hers, it was a warning.

“You don’t scare me Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh, I know darling. That’s why I’m intrigued by you.” He sent her a sly wink before, walking away towards the door. At the last second, as if he suddenly remembered something, Jungkook turned around. “Next week.” He muttered simply.

“Next week?”

He gave a knowing smile, “Next week is when you’ll be allowed to leave. It is your twenty-first birthday and you’ll finally be of age.” YN knew exactly what those words meant. Child marriage laws were strictly enforced in the Kingdom and those of lower class were not allowed to wed until they reached maturity. The words tumbled out her mouth before YN could even process what she was saying, “You’re engaged. You have a queen already.” Jungkook simply smiled, “Lady Soojin will be queen, she will sit upon the throne and wear the crown jewels upon her head. But she will not be my queen.” Just like that Jungkook had promised his fiance’s death in little words. YN felt Vito travel up her hand and perch itself on her neck resting comfortably, how YN wished the reptile would tighten around the muscles until nothing remained. That was the only way she would truly escape.

“A Kim?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow as the informant looked around paranoid. They were in a less reputable area of downtown. Far enough away from the shopping district that the tourists, bright lights, and law enforcement wouldn’t patrol. Yet not so far, that Namjoon’s attire would make him stand out.

“That’s what I said. The boy was a Kim, as is his sister.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, feeling he’d wasted a trip for no reason. “There are plenty of Kim's, it is not an uncommon name.” It was not uncommon for many to marry or change their surnames to befit that of the ruling class and the Kim’s had ruled for several dynasties before their fall. The informant groaned exasperatedly, “I swear to you. They were no ordinary Kim’s - the Prince himself asked they be investigated.” Now there was something for him to work with, barely anything truly, but still.

“Keep an eye for anything that happens which happens in court.”

“Well you're in luck because a ton is about to happen.”

“Why is that?”

“Prince Jeon has found himself a mistress.”

“Why should I care about this?” Namjoon sighed, desperate to return back to the compound and back into Seokjin’s arms. “She’s the sister of the man that was executed.” Ah, now that’s something.

The night could not come quickly enough for YN, she was certain if she stayed locked within the four walls any longer she’d lose her sanity. The moon shined high in the sky, it being the only source of light in the darkroom. It comforted her in a way she did not understand, she needed that these days. Once Jungkook left she found Vito wasn’t all that bad, he was in a state of heightened tension around Jungkook but had relaxed when danger was no longer present. In fact, he was quite playful in nature. YN would drop dead before ever thanking Jeon Jungkook for anything, but at least she was no longer alone.

YN lay on her bed simply letting her eyes find patterns in the roof’s texture much like she did when she was a child. It was barely above a whisper, but in the dead silence, YN could hear the fiddling of the locks. Vito who’d been resting on her bosom raised suddenly, fangs pursed as a hiss exited his mouth. The door opened and it was the person YN least expected to see. The person stood at the doorway, looking at YN with what could only be described as pure hatred in her eyes.

“I should’ve known better,” Soojin’s mouth was etched downward into a frown. The hands at her side tightened to fists, “Haven’t they ever taught you not to bite the hand that feeds you?!”

YN stood up, “You’re misunderstanding. Jungkook -”

Soojin laughed sardonically, “Look how comfortable you’ve gotten, even referring to the Crown Prince by name.”

It dawned on YN then that no amount of explaining would make Soojin understand. She knew what it looked like: that she’d seduced the prince even when all the signs pointed elsewhere. No one ever wanted the truth - they wanted a story. What’s the better story? The one where a prince becomes fixated on a commoner and kills her brother just to keep her active. Or the one where a commoner, sister to a criminal, seduces the Prince all in a bid for power. She knew which one Soojin believed.

“If you can convince the prince to allow me to leave you’ll never see me again.”

Soojin finally stepped past the threshold, her steps carefully calculated. “The Prince does whatever he wishes, always been that way, the rest of us simply have to fall in line.” Her tone had become calm, barely above a whisper. YN’s senses heightened and she reached out towards Vito allowing the snake to wrap around her forearm and travel up her body. Soojin’s arms had now gone behind her back as she neared the bed. Her blood-red lips parted, “I heard about you long ago.” Her words caused YN’s eyebrows to raise. What game is she playing? A melancholic smile now graced the princess’s features. “They told you’d come and steal everything from me.”

Soojin was only a few feet away when Vito had settled himself onto YN’s throat, seemingly resting though she could tell the serpent was paying attention. Though Soojin was too distracted by her story to notice him. “Come to steal my life, my heart, my crown. I thought it was the ramblings of an old witch trying to scare me away, but she swore that the lion and mamba could never become intertwined.”

YN knew what she was planning, a voice whispered in her mind that Soojin was far too still. Far too calm. As a lion tended to be right before it pounced. “The witch told me that only a flower can hope to control a viper. For only a flower can bloom again in the face of adversity.” Now she was standing right in front of YN, her body rigid with nerves. Perhaps YN should’ve put up a struggle, called for help, but all the fight had left her. YN knew her fate was sealed the second Soojin asked her the question: “What is your surname?”

“Kim.”

The second the word left her mouth Soojin brandished a dagger, though perhaps she was too slow in digging it into YN’s body. Before it could pierce her skin Vito had jumped from around her neck and curled himself around Soojin’s. The serpent quickly constricted around the muscle until Soojin dropped the knife and fell to the floor. YN moved quickly to get him off her, but Vito refused, choking Soojin more every second that passed.

“Guards! Guards! Someone help!” Vito was not large, barely matured, but he possessed such strength that YN found it difficult to tug him off the princess. Soojin’s face had long gotten red, purple, and now was beginning to pale. Let her die. Something whispered inside her and YN was shocked that anyone could ever suggest such a thing. “No!” She screamed out, trying to pull Vito off her. A flash of what happened with Jungkook and Morte flashed inside her mind, YN hastily looked around for the dagger finding it had fallen beneath the bed. She lunged for it and turned the metal on herself, leaving a long bleeding scratch on her arm. Vito hissed before unraveling and YN could see the serpent was now bleeding.

Vito lunged towards YN, but instead of attacking her merely twisted himself on her uninjured arm. YN dropped the dagger and reached toward Soojin trying to carry her, before running out the door with Soojin’s unconscious body resting on her. It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon a maid who YN yelled to for help, the maid rushing to call the guards and have them help the princess. Panicked screams rang out through the hall as a guard finally took Soojin off YN’s arms and carried her towards the infirmary.

YN stood still in the now empty corridor, she felt the temperature drop and goosebumps rise on her body. In an effort to comfort herself, she grasped onto her injured arm prepared for the stinging of the open wound but was surprised when there was none. She cast her eyes downward to see there no longer was any blood nor any indication of an injury. YN peeked at Vito to see that his eyes were closed, though the slight twitch of his body indicated he was still alive. What caught her attention though was the thin white scar that now adored his scales. Before she could begin to assemble the pieces, voices echoed throughout the hall. Realizing that this was her only opportunity YN did what any sensible person would do in that moment - she ran.

#yandere bts #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere kpop #prince of nothing #prince of nothing ii #pon #pon ii #girlmeetsliv3 #ykn

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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STARTUPS AND SOMETHING

At first I tried rules. If you want to invest because it's a rich market, and if something great happens, they'll stick with it—something great meaning either that someone wants to buy half your company for something that more than doubles the company's average outcome, you're net ahead, because the people you have to design your society in a way that's incompatible with this curve. Unless the recipient explicitly checked a clearly labelled box whose default was no asking to receive the email, then it is spam. But he wouldn't have to. Fouls happen. I wouldn't want it to grow as fast as you can; rewrite it over and over; cut DEL: out: DEL everything unnecessary; write in a conversational tone; develop a nose for bad writing, so you can see and fix it in yours; imitate writers you like; if you wanted to compare the quality of their programmers was uneven.1 I'd finished one project and was deciding what to do with your life.

I'm not claiming that stock grants can now be discarded. He got a 4x liquidation preference.2 Any given person is dumber as a member of an audience than as a way to get a big idea to appear in your head always cooking up the most plausible arguments for doing whatever you're trying to avoid. For example, a friend of mine used to grumble because he had to learn for an exam. Optimizing in solution-space is familiar and straightforward, but you can make enormous gains playing around in problem-space.3 Let them write lists of n things is in that respect the cheeseburger of essay forms.4 You enter a whole different way of life when it's your company vs. The emotional reactions you can elicit with a talk can only spend as long on each sentence as it takes to say it, a person hearing a talk can be a powerful force.5 So when something seemed amiss to them, is practically nothing. Actually the best model would be to anyone else who felt uneasy about apparently forgetting so much they'd read.6 Actually, it's more often don't worry about this; worry about that instead.

Notes

Though most VCs are only slightly richer for having these things. I think so. It would be improper to name names, while they think the usual way will prove to us that the money they're paid isn't a picture of anything. As Secretary of State and the valuation is fixed at the mafia end of World War II was in charge of HR at Lotus in the same, but I think it is not to have discovered something intuitively without understanding all its implications.

An earlier version of the biggest sources of pain for founders, HR acquisitions are viewed by acquirers as more akin to hiring bonuses. They may play some behind the doors that say authorized personnel only. If a company.

But one of the biggest successes there is some kind of business you should always get a patent is now. Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the sense of the word as in Boston, or much energy would be to become addictive. I call it procrastination when someone gets drunk instead of hiring them.

This is one you take out order. So the most fearsome provisions in VC deal terms have to choose which was open to newcomers because it was not in 1950 have been truer to the wealth they generate. It would probably find it more natural to expand into casinos than software, we found they used FreeBSD and stored their data in files. Down rounds are at least one of them.

There is not merely a complicated but pointless collection of specious beliefs about how things are from an interview, I'd appreciate hearing from you. The first alone yields someone who's stubbornly inert. Life isn't an expression; how can anything regressive be good.

This law does not appear to be like a later investor trying to sell, or whether contractors count too. This includes mere conventions, like good scientists, motivated less by financial rewards than by selling them overpriced components.

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laughingpinecone · 3 years

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1030w, General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply POV First Person, Magical Realism, Chess

The reason for my visit to Maya and Gersten fades into irrelevance. I remember J. suggesting I consult them for my semiotics paper, swearing by the presence in their library of rare transcripts of de Saussure’s lectures. I also remember the cassette that P. had long tried to get back from her ex and which had reportedly, circumstantially made its way to their home, and how the noble bond of friendship had made me volunteer to act as a broker.

No matter. To linger on such causes exposes them to the indignity of being painted with unearned ordinariness.

What does matter is that, having made an appointment, I rang at their door. Finding it open, I took a step into their house and found it tasteful, lived-in, soft lines and bright colors filling that flat with passion, a beating heart in the middle of a bleak high rise near the edge of the city.

I first saw them as I lingered near the doorstep. A chiseled knight lay on the floor. A simple plastic rook, tournament standard, stood on the edge of a shelf like a lookout tower abandoned in ages past. Nearby, a long row of black pawns saw the union of small travel sets and two bigger metal casts. Chess pieces dotted the apartment, more and more revealing themselves to a mindful observer. Another pawn was entrenched in an ashtray, looking thankful, I thought, for the added defense afforded by its walls. The scenario brought a smile to my lips, suggesting perhaps a child, who, unaware of the rules of the noble game, had taken to deploying the pieces like tin soldiers. Nonetheless, even then I could feel the glimpse of a rigorous method behind their positioning. A truth, perhaps. Such heavy words ring hollow now, far from the apartment, but their echo persists.

Chess is a language unto itself, this fact is known to anyone who has ever spent as little as an hour on a game (as well as the occasional semiotician – De Saussure himself posited that “The respective value of the pieces depends on their position on the chessboard just as each linguistic term derives its value from its opposition to all the other terms”). Within the walls of the apartment, that language’s grammar has been pulled and stretched, its drift as deep and monumental as that of the continents along their fault lines. What hides in these new spaces they created, what subtleties, what meanings? As I try to picture Maya and Gersten’s daily trifles, a feat for the imagination since, as stated above, mundaneness appears to shun them, there must be a time when one tells the other to turn down the volume of the radio, or leaves a note that they are out of butter. Maya in her red shawls may convey certain meanings through her knitting needles; Gersten, as P. once told me, puts on her brooches according to patterns known to her alone. At times her enamel soothsaying becomes apparent to the people around her. Most days it remains a well-kept secret. What, then, is left to chess? What can better be conveyed – rather, what can only be conveyed – through a rook placed at the end of the couch? Does it hold a mute dialogue with the one on the shelf, with the knight by the entrance, is their positioning relative to each other, the magnetic pole, unseen constellations? Is there more meaning to be found in the overlapping of more sets of pieces across the apartment, perhaps a stratification, a function of time that shows that what was once an antique pawn has kept progressing throughout history, generations of pawns until a contemporary design (more of a cone, in truth, only interpretable as a chess piece by virtue of the other chess pieces around it) is finally, achingly close to promotion to queen? Yet the apartment remains timeless in my memory’s eyes. I suspect their connections, for surely those connections exist, to be more copious and deeper than a single scenario repeated through time, rather a transcendent conversation of coexisting forms, placements and purposes. Those criss-crossed threads create a thick tapestry whose patterns I have not traveled far enough to see.

In the middle of the living room stood three small tables, upon which three chessboards showed three games at different stages. One was in its opening phase, a Semi-Slav defense if memory serves. Another had reached a rook and pawn ending, in a belabored fashion, as these things often go. The last one saw a heated middlegame where two doubled pawns may or may not have spelled white’s doom in spite of light material advantage.

A bishop from this third chessboard was the only piece removed from either game which still stood next to it – perfectly in line, I now suspect, with the a2-g8 diagonal. Bj11, if you will. I took it in my hands to admire its craftmanship and the finer details of its design. Solid wood. Weighed. Elegant geometry.

It was then that Maya and Gersten walked into their living room, carrying the small envelope which I had come to collect and which still lies discarded in the back of my car, unopened. They moved following a rhythm of their own, as if the other were an extension of their self, but I could not decipher whether the bond between them was one of friendship, love or enmity, or any other declension of human bonds which may lead two people to adopt the thirty-two pieces as their alphabet and grammar.

“Did we not hear a j’adoube?” said Gersten.

“What?” said I, bishop still in hand, not so out of touch with my French as not to understand the international call for touching a piece without intending to move it, but in disbelief upon hearing a formal rule invoked in that context.

“Your move, then,” said Maya.

My move.

The diagonal stretches to the horizon on its unwavering grid. The apartment is far gone in my rear view mirror; the city will soon follow suit. In the glove compartment, nothing but sunglasses, my wallet and the bishop. Something is changing. The drift deepens.

#chess #original fiction #fanfiction #(as in. it's my writing tag)#look listen this was last year idek what a backlog IS just take this #I'm very very fond of this one #and today is a special day

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somedrunkpirate · 4 years

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In the dark we travel (Geraskier Sci-fi au)

The witcher fandom yelled at me so hard more gays in space spawned, I love yall. Chapter 2 just got posted.

Chapter 1 (Tumblr) | Chapter 2 (this post)| Chapter 1 (ao3) | Chapter 2 (ao3)

Though Geralt has been on large ships often, there is something about Garbagecrafts that looms over you when you enter. Walking over the edge of the doorway is akin to stepping into the maw of a creature, a cavernous space opening up before in a tunnel, leading only to greater open halls. The bowels of the beast with thin walkways crawling up walls that reach 20, maybe even 30 meters.

The echo doesn’t help matters. Even though the first three halls they pass are almost filled to the brim with labyrinths of containers, the sound of footsteps ricochets off the metal floor and comes back multiplied a dozen times over. It disorientates Geralt, the echo overlaying with actual sounds to such an extent that it is hard to know where anything is coming from. It will be better slightly further down, he knows, where the walls taper off to a humble 15 metres.

Every Garbagecraft is built the same way. You have the smaller, lower level, where engines reside on one side, and the dangerous and toxic wastes reside on the other, guarded and secured. Then you have the second level, the one they’ve just entered, where the majority of the trash is stored in those endless halls of space. Some elect to spend their time there, in between the containers— mostly those who are able to trance or hibernate in some manner or another. A way to biologically skip the time.

But for those who need some measure of utilities, the best bet is to come as close to the third level as possible. The crew eats, drinks and sleeps there. If you’re lucky, there are bathrooms and showers just in between the second and third level, for the lowest of the workers to use.

The crafts are made to be manned for long periods of time. Geralt has heard of people who have been on a single garbage run for over three years. They go from planet to planet, picking up specific kinds of garbage that can be reused or destroyed in other parts of the galaxy. This one seems to be most focused on fuels— biological, chemical, quantisable, Geralt can smell all kinds —though they always have some bays open for more general waste that can be discarded off anywhere.

Theirs is a service that goes beyond borders or politics. There have been so many planets and societies either destroyed or corrupted by their own waste, that there is an understanding among the galaxy that the disposal of materials is something that must be done with equity and generosity. No society is too small to have the right to ask a Garbagecraft coming to their docks.

And of course, with any service that is for the good of all and has no motive other than necessity, the ships are perpetually understaffed.

This is how they can carry people, as well as waste. For all intents and purposes, they all just got hired.

“Are you going to claim a bunk?” Jaskier is saying, forcing Geralt to realise that he’s still walking beside him. “You’d have the right to it.”

“Hmm.”

“That doesn’t actually illuminate anything.”

Geralt shrugs.

“You’d have to right to it. This place must be hell for you.”

Geralt doesn’t respond. It isn’t that he’s wrong, but Geralt has no intention to wade into the utter mess that is the bunk claiming process. If you could call it a process. The Sketh will likely get her way, she’s shown her willingness to use her blaster in any manner she sees fit on the platform. But despite Jaskier’s idealistic declaration, the art of getting a bunk is much more about status than merely intimidation.

There are rules in places like this— lives like these. Who is supposed to interact with whom. Where you can sit with, who you can drink with. There are three sizes of it: species, role, influence. Jaskier is going to be high up in all— humans tend to have the unerring ability to elevate themselves above others, even if it is just through sheer annoyance. His role as a Bard will gather him many accolades, as few people have an ability that is actually of use during their stay. And well, on influence. He’s shown his mastery of that on the platform as much the Sketh showed her volatile nature. Jaskier will have no trouble getting a bunk, nor gathering food, drink, protection, companionship, and all else you might need.

Geralt, on the other hand—

There is little consensus whether Ancienthunters even should be considered a species, rather than an augmented experiment with admittedly, some use to them. Their trade of killing the worst the universe has to offer earns them less than respect. Many believe even the proximity to those creatures leaves the hunters tainted and prone to corruption. Influence is a hilarious afterthought, not even worth mentioning. He could use his sword, or Roach, to be convincing, in some sense of the word. But there must be more than a hundred people down below, and the moment the crew hears of a wayward Hunter, terrorizing the people, he’ll be outside the ship’s walls faster than he can blink.

He won’t get a bunk. That’s just the way it is.

Jaskier is about to say something else when they turn a corner, and the last cargo hall opens up before them.

“Oh, fuck yes.”

The last hall is where most people congregate, only because that is where the main airflow system resides. The big blades of ventilators cast a damp breeze through the area. Horrible still, but marginally better compared to the labyrinths down the hall. The further wall also gives access to the third level, and with a measure of relief Geralt can see small neon signs of pointing arrows with shower and toilet symbols.

But the best thing— the reason why Jaskier sounded so utterly delighted, is half of the hall is empty. There are a few containers stacked to the side, and three large piles of miscellaneous crap greet them besides the entrance, but other than that, they have about half a hover-hockey stadium all to themselves.

“They must be planning to do a pick up at The Grand Station,” Jaskier muses, smiling. “Oh this is going to make it suck so much less. Look! There are even cots put out-- those military folding beds, and there is a bar! Made from empty fuel drums, but still. They must have had a lot of stowaways here before.”

“Running low on funds,” Geralt says. It's the only reason why they actually would be catering to their technically illegal passengers. It belies a sense of desperation. Geralt’s gaze casts around the area, wondering dimly if there are any repairs the crew has been procrastinating due to lack of cash flow. Last thing they need is for the water to stop running, or worse still, for the engines to.

“Or,” Jaskier says, eyebrows raised, “They figured we would appreciate not sleeping on the ground.”

Geralt snorts.

“Ah, you’re one of those. The world is never dark enough in your eyes, is it?”

“I’m not the one keeping you here,” Geralt says, low and without inflection.

Jaskier laughs like he made a particularly good joke. “You say so, but there is something magnetising about that perpetual frown. How does he manage it? Is there a limit to one's ability to glare on a daily basis? Can you get stuck like that?”

“If you are going to ask me to smile—“

“I have more self preservation than that.”

Geralt tilts his head, makes a noise that could be construed as questioning.

“She wouldn’t have actually shot me. Much too messy.”

“Hmm.”

“Risk assessment is something I am particularly good at.”

And yet you insist on talking to me, Geralt doesn’t say.

As they walk, they’re coming nearer the open space where some of the travellers have already laid claim to a few of the cots. The Pervuvians have gathered about a dozen, laid them out in a circle, and are guarding them like dragons on a hoard of gold. A group of humans have set up a few closer to the makeshift bar. Two women, one with tight braids piled on top of her head and the other with long blond curls that must be fake, are already pouring drinks and cleaning plastic shot glasses. Yur and Decalons have gathered together, the neighbour species sharing their space much as their planets do, some even preening each other’s feathers and making quiet conversation.

There are other little groups scattered around the area, and Geralt knows not to approach any. He stops at the last row of sporadically stacked containers. There are two that come from the wall on either side of a ladder, that leads to a small square grate hanging like a small balcony over them. It must have been once connected to a larger walkway, but Geralt can just see the haphazardly welded edges of it— maybe someone was too enthusiastic placing containers and broke through it.

In any case, the space between the container stacks will serve as a nice place for Roach to stay, and she’ll stand vigil before the ladder. The grate won’t be comfortable, but it hangs right in the shadow— the rows of yellow industrial lights barely miss it — and from that height, he’ll be able to keep an eye on things.

It takes Jaskier a few steps to notice that Geralt has turned right.

“Where are you goin— really? This is where you’re going to stay?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“My judgements are always unsolicited and free of charge, and I think this is bullshit. You’re going to fall off of there, or at least break your back on that grate.”

Geralt ignores him and folds out a water tray for Roach. He should have enough hydration packages for a week or so before needing to get tap water in the bathrooms.

“Is being stubborn something they teach you or is it something innate.”

Geralt shrugs.

“I won’t be here if you’re gonna complain about not being able to sleep.”

Geralt turns to him, looks him in the eye and says, “Good.”

Jaskier throws his hands up. “I don’t know why I even— You know what. Fine. I’ll come back once you’re less—“ He makes a vague hand motion that encompasses Geralt’s general form, “— this.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Would booze help?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a yes because I desperately need some at this point.”

“Sounds like it.”

Jaskier makes another exasperated sound and begins to walk away.

Geralt hesitates for a moment. Roach stares at him and then leans in to huff a warm breath in his face.

Fine.

“Jaskier.”

The footsteps halt at once.

“Yes?”

“Stay away from the old timer. Blue uniform. Wrinkles.”

“What. Why?”

“Just do it.”

There is pause.

“You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you.”

“Hmm.”

Another, longer, silence. Pacing, and then a sudden chuckle.

“You’re insufferable, you know that.”

Geralt takes a deep breath, sighs it out through his nose.

He braces himself when Jaskier continues speaking, but what he hears is:

“I’ve never met a man so interesting and yet so reluctant to be at the same time in my goddamn life and I swear to you, I will figure you out.”

And with that, Jaskier leaves.

Geralt has absolutely no idea how to feel about any of it.

Roach looks at him knowingly, presses her snout against his shoulder for a moment, and then turns to drink some water.

Geralt rolls his eyes and begins to climb the ladder.

Up above he can see the commotion as the last wave of passengers arrive and the people begin to out divide the cots. He should be keeping an eye out for conflict, keeping track of who is willing to fight, who is impulsive, who is calculated. But Geralt finds himself watching as Jaskier makes his way through the crowd, slipping through all designated areas in brash ignorance of any social rules. Somehow he’s never met with a fist as he does so. Instead, wherever he goes, he draws out the species’ best approximation of a bemused smile. They seem unsure what to do with him at first, but one by one, he manages to lead them to an easy and harmless solution: to have fun.

It doesn’t take very long before laughter cascades the hall. Rounds are had, songs are sung.

Geralt sits above, iron pressing cold lines into his back, and watches.

He thinks that once or twice, Jaskier looks up, and watches back.

The merry sounds only let off when the ship gives a roaring rumble, and familiar alarms go off warning everyone aboard to take hold and sit tight.

There are no belts in this place, but as everyone hunkers down, holding pipes and walls and each other, the ship lurches into motion.

Geralt closes his eyes, trying to breath through the building pressure without throwing up.

The ship tilts, dives lower, accelerates. Beds and people alike begin to list to the side.

But with a sudden burst of force, the ship rightens and stabilises. The walls behind Geralt tremble still as different parts of the ship move and interlock with each other— going from the standard dock positions to long void travel.

One of the platforms that had been folded up now shifts away, and opens up a small window on the opposite wall. Most everyone’s eyes are drawn to it one by one, as they slowly watch Zevos’ many purple moons becoming smaller and smaller, before the planet itself is swallowed mostly by the light of its sun.

They have four days before that too, will disappear entirely.

Geralt heaves a deep sigh.

The journey has truly begun.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #witcher #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #witcher fic #myfic #in the dark we travel #scifi au #alternate universe scifi #this is 100% the fandom's fault #more be coming

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fanficaficionado · 3 years

Text

okay, i know i said i would be starting with things i knew and loved. hell, i even had a fic from the fandom im currently ass-deep in all lined up!! but then i procrastinated, and i lost motivation, got distracted by my scheduled post-holiday shutdown, and something else finally kicked my ass into gear. so this blog's first true introduction to the world will not, in fact, be a post where i worship the very ground my favorite fic writers walk upon.

no, today we are talking about Ascent into Madness by cesium_sheep

((spoilers, obviously))

Now im going to preface this by saying that this criticism is subjective and based in my opinion. I did genuinely enjoy this story, and i did not at any point feel the urge to launch myself into the sun with nothing but the pure force of my rage, causing the sun to explode and consume planet earth in a scorching hell-blast and decimating all life on our tiny little space rock, which even some of my favorites are guilty of because in some stories characters just love to waffle about ((especially in my preferred reading material which puts romance at a very significant focus)). This story just isn't for me.

I'm going to explain why, and believe me when i say i am being as gentle as i physically can with this story because it is not objectively offensive to my very being, It's a good read and setting aside the problems i have with it i enjoyed it.

I keep repeating that i don't hate this story because i do not want to be accused of baseless hate, not because of reputation or anything but because being accused of something i know i didn't do sets off the same sensation that i get from rubbing my fingernails on egg cartons, the one of the back of my brain being assaulted by the mayonnaise-coated fingers of satan himself. Damn i should really get to the criticism before this just becomes an in depth description of my very soul's adverse reaction to the cream in queen anne chocolate cherries.

anyways.

The thing about this story is that, to me, it feels.. unfinished. Or at the very least like it wandered off its intended course. It leaves me with a feeling of mild dissatisfaction and the taste of confusion in my mouth. I think this problem is best summarized by the fact that, in the first chapter, it is set up that rose is in some sort of hospital, and that dave thinks she is in the grasp of some delusion, and the second chapter sets up the retroactive explanation for how it got to this point. See, what i expected was to be caught up to that point in the story, reach that point in time again, and then progress from there.

But that first chapter?? With the hospital, the delusions, the brick through the window with the radio attached?? Never brought up again, not even once. It is completely discarded and never even thought about. The story even stops trying to set up that scene after a certain point.

To put it in homestuck terms, because i'm a loser, a time player, and come on we're talking about a homestuck fic here you know i have to do this, it feels like we started a loop and then branched off the alpha timeline so completely we aren't even a part of the metaphorical timeline-tree anymore. It nags at my brain man, it's one of the main things that fuelled my motivation in writing this. It feels lost and wandering and it confuses me in a bone deep sorta way.

The second thing that gets to me is the complete lack of information presented about what, exactly, the fuck is going on. I have no idea how we got from point A to point B, not just because it completely disconnects from point A not even halfway through, but also because there's a lot of plot threads thrown in haphazardly and then never extended upon. There's a mention of jake and john's respective guardians knowing something about the story's big bad and all the mystical bullshit that follows along behind him, but that is never followed up on even a little. No one questions why they know, despite this information being so rare that literally only two families and a single group of aliens seem to have access to it. It just is a thing and then whoops, hand musta slipped because that bad boy is out the window and is facing the combined nonexistent mercy of gravity and this ten story drop.

The main plot has this same problem, in feeling like you get just enough info to keep it going forward. There's a sword in rose's umbrella basket or whatever the hell it's called, and it's implied a future dave put it there for his past self, but do we get confirmation that it was him?? Do we see that loop completed?? No, it is just used as a driving force for rose to try and push the fact that dave's got Timey powers. It feels like i'm being pulled by the hand through this story because it only gives just barely enough information to keep this crazy train rolling and then goes so far as to leave fucking time loops hanging there incomplete which okay i might be getting a little peeved about that but can you blame me?? Can you really blame me at all??

Maybe i am judging the plot too harshly, after all i was forewarned not to read for the plot in the summary because it's pretty slow and wandering. So let's get into something else then, yes?? Let's hop to the relationships.

The relationships, too, fall prey to this complete lack of any meaningful focus on any piece of information ever. I'd swear the writer was allergic if that didn't seem too harsh a description. It's a whole lot of telling without any showing, a cardinal sin in writing. We get a conversation with kanaya that doesn't suffer the disconnect from all things that the rest of the story seems haunted by. It's actually really a neat little conversation and i find it kind of wholesome how kanaya talks about rose and i personally think this interaction to be entirely too short. Then kanaya mentions karkat and apparently there's some of davekat's standard romantic tension happening off-screen because dave starts to get flustered and ponders what that means. And once again a plot thread is thrown to the winds because we never get another whiff of it.

Actually on the topic of davekat, dave just naturally gravitates to karkat and then they're stuck together like glue, so stuck in fact that dave dies for karkat because dave apparently forgets the golden rule of "If you have time to jump in front of someone then you have time to push them out of the way" and then ignores the added bit i spitefully wrote on the ancient stone tablet of Things That Make Sense in neon orange sharpie that says "Especially if you have time to have a discussion about your choices with an ambiguously-dead girl. Pull your thumb out of your ass, dave, nobody has to die here, magic option number three was not the one you picked."

Of course, this is a fanfiction, these are characters i already know. I know how these characters would interact, i know how their relationship develops in-canon and i know that given the chance these fuckers become goddamn inseparable. But that doesn't excuse the fact that it is all tell and no show, we dont see how it gets from "You're one of the only familiar faces in a group of strangers and i am not about to start interacting with new people unless i have to" to "Here let me die heroically for you and then be revived for no explainable reason besides Because The Wizard Of God Says So." I have no reason to be invested in this or even give a half-ounce shit despite it literally becoming something that the climax hinges on. And then rose and kanaya are just inexplicably,, together?? Right at the end?? And while i am happy that the lesbians get to be in love everything is off screen and nothing is ever explained, not even like one time, and god it's just so confusing. I am so confused.

But again, maybe i'm being unfair, once again the very tags of this fic are telling me that the relationships are not the focus and only really tagged so people can filter it out. I suppose i should judge the characters, then.

From what i remember there are sixteen characters, excluding ((who i believe to be, as it is once again not explained or explicitly stated to be)) caliborn at the end, with speaking roles. Five of those characters retain any narrative relevance for more than a nanosecond. A good chunk of the trolls arent even mentioned by name, with eridan and i think sollux being mentioned, and who i think to be sollux speaks when rose and dave are first brought to the trolls' apartment but again, the fog of uncertainty clouds all things and i don't have my handy dandy leafblower on me to airblast that shit out of my way. Of the five characters with any focus on them, two are relegated to the role of supporting character, with karkat joining that number more often than not. That leaves us with dave and rose, who are ultimately as a whole unaffected by their experiences. They do not learn anything, they do not grow or change. Sure rose freaks out about her perception of reality, but that falls flat because it's more tell and no show again. Dave freaks out, as he rightfully should in this situation, but there is no arc. There is no significant change in anything but moving toward the boss fight with the big baddie.

There aren't any particularly interesting interactions between these characters, either, i cannot recall one time in which i laughed, or felt much of anything really. They all fall into a state of Existing while also feeling like they aren't doing a whole lot. It's more noticeable in retrospect but these characters just Do Not feel alive, they seem incredibly flat at times and it's hard to notice while you're reading but looking back it stands out so painfully and it makes me very sad.

If i'm not supposed to read for the plot, and i'm not supposed to read for the relationships, and i can't read for the characters, then what is this story meant to be read for?? The only other thing i can think of is the mystery and sorry pal, but that's a plot, which we have already established doesn't really have a whole lot going for it because while your mystery sure is there it is currently stinking up that rug you shoved half the answers under because those mysteries aren't the ones you want to focus on.

Is it simply meant to pass the time?? Is there no deeper purpose besides keeping yourself entertained as the hours tick by?? Because if so, it at least accomplished that. Despite its faults, it kept my attention for the entire fifty one chapters, and it passed my time.

There are other nitpicks i have, but that's more based around the writing style on a more technical level. The chapters are too short for my personal taste, and there are far too many cliffhangers, these things i will not condemn as the writer gave a good reason for the latter and obviously no writer is obligated to churn out 2,500 words per chapter unless they damn well want to.

Ultimately, this story is neither good nor bad. It is straightforward in that it burns any other plot threads besides the main one on the sacrificial alter of The Writer Does What The Writer Wants, it's a bit too ambiguous and under-explained for my tastes, but there is nothing egregiously offensive in it. It is a story that exists. I wouldn't read it again, but i wouldn't not read it again, and i don't even come close to regretting the time i spent reading it ((outside of the fact that it is currently almost nine am and i haven't slept but that one is my own fault)).

I scrolled passed this story in its beginnings, assuming it would not be particularly mindblowing, and now that i've read it i know that i was entirely correct. Read it if you want, or don't, just don't go in expecting something life changing. I suggest picking out a spot on your schedule where you have nothing to do and will no doubt be bored out of your mind. I sincerely doubt you'll regret it.

#homestuck #homestuck fanfic #fanfiction #god what else do i even tag this as. fuckin..#fanfiction critique #????#i feel like a child #i am but a little boy lost in the deep dark woods and i have no idea where i am going #there is no map for this shit #also as i write this tag it is now 9:52 am #a whole hour after i finished writing this monstrosity #because editing this stuff to make it somewhat coherent is a task and a half #i ramble worse than any homestuck character and i have proof too. go ahead. challenge me. i dare you. i know im right #i don't know why or how i got to the bit about queen anne chocolate cherries but i think its funny so fuck it its staying in #again if the author of this fic somehow comes across this and doesn't want this shit on my blog or wants to be tagged like let me know plea #i am trying desperately to not step on any toes or hearts here but i was not Raised so if i fuck up please just tell me #i dont wanna be publicly hung via tumblr anon attacks and callout posts that are poorly made at best and wildly inaccurate at worst #anyways thanks for reading i guess i have no idea how to tie this shit off and it Shows lol #hope i did okay #fuck it im not rereading this anymore im sending it out into the world #off you go little timmy suck it up and face the judgement of strangers

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ilikecowsnstuff · 4 years

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CHAPTER 9!!!

SUMMARY: UA Hero Course - Third Year. Shigaraki Tomura and Dabi have been classmates and rivals since their very first day at UA. But with new feelings developing how will they cope given their history of fragile and often violent encounters? Their dance begins after a partnered training exam goes wrong, leaving Shigaraki wounded and Dabi feeling guilty. AU.

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For AO3 – Click Here

For FanFiction – Click Here

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

CHAPTER NINE - WORK AND PLAY

Shigaraki had started to hate his patrols, like to the point where he dreaded going to his nightly internship at the Fourth Kind Agency. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the responsibility, or that he felt uncomfortable or inadequate as a hero-in-training, he was just bored - tired of the same mundane route and the absence of any real hero work.

That night was no different. Hours of walking with nothing new or exciting to report, just a couple of muggings here and a purse snatching there and that had pretty much summed it all up. It was police work, not hero work, but it was what all students were allocated before they graduated. Of course, some students got lucky and ran into trouble during their work studies coincidentally allowing them to act the hero, but Shigaraki hadn’t been that fortunate.

He kicked absently at an empty soda can that had been discarded on the sidewalk, earning him a displeased look from some passersby. He ignored the glares and continued forward, leaving the littered can on the ground behind. After a dull, yet blessedly low crime night, he and Kai were officially off-duty and on their way back to the dorms after checking in and signing out at the agency.

“So, that was a huge waste of time.” Kai proclaimed as he walked unassumingly beside Shigaraki.

Shigaraki snorted in response. He wasn’t sure what Kai had been expecting on his first patrol but thought it involved a lot more action and adventure. Admittedly, he would have preferred that too, but it was what it was.

“Do you ever feel like all of this is not right for you?” Kai asked.

“You mean the patrols?” Shigaraki replied, “Everyone has to do it.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“No, I mean… like everything. Being a Hero, with all these ridiculous rules and restrictions.” Kai elaborated, watching Shigaraki from the corner of his eye. “Why are we even trying to be heroes? It seems a lot more fun on the other side.”

Shigaraki whipped his head to the side, his brows drawn tightly together as he considered Kai’s line of questioning. He legitimately didn’t know how to answer him. His reasons were purely logical and had nothing to do with feelings, which was probably an issue within itself - he was born into a mutated world and people with quirks were raised to become heroes. Or villains. Simple as that. Though, why he had chosen the side of good was a mystery considering his problematic and controversial childhood influences.

That lack of conviction wasn’t something he was going to share with Kai, however.

“I can see it, you know.” Kai began, meeting Shigaraki’s disconcerted gaze. “You’re not like the others.”

Shigaraki scratched frantically at his neck, narrowing his eyes at his new friend.

He wanted to disagree, and he wanted to defend himself from such outlandish accusations, but he couldn’t find his words, or the right ones anyway. Kai knew nothing about him, yet, he wasn’t entirely wrong. For as long as he could remember, Shigaraki had felt different from his classmates - through middle and elementary school he was an outcast, someone who did not belong, and UA High hadn’t changed anything except, perhaps, offered some purpose to his ambiguity.

How had he seen through Shigaraki’s hardened exterior?

“So, I see.” Kai muttered. He thought Shigaraki’s silence spoke volumes, and it made Kai even more fascinated with the surly boy.

Kai thought it was kind of funny how easily Shigaraki had managed to get under his skin and rearrange his priorities at UA High. The violently brief introduction to Shigaraki had piqued his interest, and then the random - though unconfirmed - gossip about misconduct and nonconformity that he had picked up from other students really sealed the deal and his obsession.

Shigaraki was like the antihero of UA High. Unconventional, but heroic nonetheless? Maybe? The jury was still out on that. Kai needed to know more before there was a clear ruling because the lines between good and bad were extremely blurred.

“You know, I think we’re very much alike.” Kai suggested, stepping into stride with Shigaraki.

“Oh, I doubt that.”

Kai snickered behind his mask. “Sure, we are. With maybe the exception of wanting to be a hero.” He clarified, casually waving a gloved hand in front of him.

“Why the fuck are you at UA High then?”

“Why are you?” Kai countered.

Shigaraki shook his head. He was not in the mood for this level of honest disclosure and especially not with Kai.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It can be our little secret.”

“I’m not worried.” Shigaraki affirmed lowering his eyes, as far as he was concerned this topic of conversation was over.

Luckily, Kai’s amusement also seemed to have faded and he dropped whatever point he was trying to make. They walked in silence for a few yards, their heavy footsteps on the pavement the only sounds accompanying them as they entered UA High grounds.

“Oh, hey.” Kai suddenly exclaimed, “What are you doing Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Shigaraki replied, shaking his head.

“Do you want to do something?”

“With you?”

“Yeah.” Kai watched Shigaraki intently for an answer, but when he didn’t get one added, “I heard you liked video games.”

“Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

“So, you do then?”

“Yes.”

“See, we are alike. I play too.”

Shigaraki grunted. “Having one thing in common doesn’t mean we are alike, Kai.”

“Mm, fine. I’ll give you that. But I know it’s not the only thing.” He conceded. “And back to my earlier question, want to play together Friday night? We can team up in COD. Or something else? Red Dead?”

Shigaraki shifted his glance sideways, offering Kai a rare though subtle smile. Not one of the other students were interested in gaming, not like Shigaraki was. Though, to be fair, he never really asked, he just assumed. But the idea of sharing his hobby with Kai was surprisingly welcomed.

“Okay.”

”Yeah? Cool, cool.”

Ahead of them, the windows to the Alliance Dorm were lit up with a warm, yellow light. Most of the students would have returned from their internships by now and were probably in the common room excitedly discussing the events of the night at their respective agencies. At a jogging pace, he and Kai ascended the small set of stairs to the front doors and just as they hit the landing, a voice stopped them from entering inside.

“Look who finally made it back.”

To their right, perched casually on the porch railing and leaning against a pillar for support was Dabi. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers, eyeing the other two boys suspiciously.

“Smoking on school grounds, smart.” Shigaraki commented, scowling as Dabi grinned in return, lifting the smoke to his lips to take a drag.

Stupid. Hot. Zombie. Boy. Ugh. Shigaraki was both outraged and aroused.

“I never claimed to be smart.” Dabi disclosed.

Beside him, Kai remained silent but Shigaraki could tell he was disgusted with Dabi’s dirty habit. His forehead was creased, like he was scrunching his nose up behind his mask. The smoke didn’t really bother Shigaraki, nor did the smell irritate him, but considering Kai’s apparent OCD, Shigaraki understood why he would be opposed to it.

“I’m going inside.” Kai muttered, clearly irked. “So, Friday night, your room or mine?”

“Mine. Bring your own gear.”

“You got it.” He offered Shigaraki a quick salute then turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Shigaraki nodded and waited until the door had closed behind Kai before he took a few steps towards Dabi.

“Got a hot date?” Dabi teased as he approached.

“Shut up.” Shigaraki barked in return, pressing his back against the wall and stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, “We’re just going to play some COD or something.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a video game.” Shigaraki explained, and then noticing Dabi’s disinterest followed it with, “It doesn’t matter. It’s not a date.”

Dabi regarded Shigaraki silently, a cloud of white smoke whirling from his lips and then disappearing into thin air.

“Why haven’t you asked me to play COB with you?”

“It’s COD. Call of Duty.” Shigaraki corrected, trying desperately to repress a grin, “And I didn’t think you were into that kind of stuff.”

Dabi shrugged. “I’m not.”

“So that’s why I didn’t fucking ask.” He explained and then went on to correct, “Well, one of the reasons.”

“Heh. I could learn to like it. For you.”

“Oh, please. Don’t put yourself out on my account.”

Dabi’s responding chuckle was deep, almost dark in nature.

“Maybe I would like it.” He took another drag of his smoke,

“Seriously, aren’t you in enough trouble already?” Shigaraki asked, motioning towards Dabi’s cigarette - the potential detention creator.

“What’s another week of after school?”

Shigaraki’s brow furrowed hard. He was about to reply with something snarky, as was his custom, but something caught his attention instead and it took all words right out of his mouth. It was the edge of a white bandage peeking out from the collar of Dabi’s shirt. To Shigaraki, it looked like the bandage was wrapped diagonally from his chest over his shoulder covering quite a large expanse of skin.

Noticing where Shigaraki’s eyes fell, Dabi waved it off.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

Dabi butted out his cigarette and then tossed the waste in the garden behind him, disposing of it out of sight - like it had never been present in the first place. He hopped off the railing and back to his feet, his usual arrogance firmly back in place now.

“Are you concerned about my wellbeing, Mop Head?”

“Not particularly.” Shigaraki replied, acting resignedly as he folded his arms collectively over his chest.

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Dabi turned to glance at the door to the dorms before looking back to Shigaraki, eyes honing in on where he stood. He still looked so uncomfortable and so self-aware of being alone with Dabi - it was almost painful to watch.

“What?” Shigaraki demanded after a few seconds of silence and the boys continued staring.

“Nothing.” Dabi drawled, the corner of his mouth kicking up into an amused grin. The heat of Shigaraki’s blush was warming at the intensity of his stare.

“God I fucking missed you.” Dabi murmured, taking a cautious step closer.

“We were literally in class together all day, idiot.” Shigaraki replied gruffly, though he didn’t try to move away which was progress.

“That’s not how I mean.”

Shigaraki sucked in a small breath when Dabi reached him, long fingers curling around the drawstrings of his hoodie. He tugged firmly encouraging Shigaraki forward.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” Dabi whispered, taking a final step closer. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Fine. But make it quick.” He grumbled, shoulders stiff, cheeks flushing further. Dabi grinned, accepting his conflicting behaviour out of familiarity. Shigaraki’s mouth often said yes while his body said no, or at least, a very reluctant maybe. Persistence was key.

Dabi grinned and tilted his head, shadow falling across Shigaraki’s upturned face. He lifted his hand to cup Shigaraki’s cheek and settled his mouth gently over Shigaraki’s pursed lips. Shigaraki dropped his arms helplessly to his side in response, his defensive stand forgotten. He curled his restless fingers, hands balling up into tights fists surrendering to the kiss.

Emboldened by his crush’s assent, Dabi swept his fingers slowly over Shigaraki’s jawline and felt the boy shiver against him, lips parting in anticipation of Dabi’s invading tongue. This was how their kisses always began, slow and sweet, Dabi taking the lead, Shigaraki passively following him in the motions. But once Dabi’s tongue slid inside his mouth, deepening the kiss, the rest of Shigaraki’s body was not quite so subdued. He unconsciously took a slight step closer, slender body pressing closer to Dabi.

Dabi moaned his approval against Shigaraki’s mouth, fingers sliding back into the boys messy yet incredibly soft hair. When they broke off ten seconds later, gasping for breath, Shigaraki held a shaky hand up.

Dabi paused, his lips an inch from Shigaraki’s palm, and three inches from Shigaraki’s flushed mouth.

“That’s it?” Dabi frowned, petting the other boy with reverence.

“I said to make it quick.”

“But don’t you feel better now?”

Shigaraki blushed, refusing to answer.

“Okay. Understood.” Dabi yielded, trying not to look too wistful, and he carefully lowered the other boys threatening hand, “There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.” Dabi breathed, fingers slowly combing through Shigaraki’s hair. When he didn’t reply, Dabi continued, “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s my birthday next week.”

“Congratulations.”

Dabi’s eyes lit up with amusement.

“I’m having a party on the weekend, at my parent’s place. They will be out of town so...”

Shigaraki scowled, knowing exactly where this was going, but hoping by some miracle he was wrong.

“Will you come?”

“No.”

“Please? I want you to come.”

“I don’t like parties.” Shigaraki grumbled, scratching his blunt nails up and down the side of his neck.

“But you like me.” Dabi said leaning forward and stealing another quick kiss before Shigaraki could object to it.

“Tch.” Shigaraki grunted, head tilting away.

“Come on. Everyone will be there.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.” Dabi snickered.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m inviting everyone from Third Year.”

“Why?”

“Hm. Because parties are better with a lot of people.

“That’s debatable.”

“How about a party of two then? You and me.”

“Definitely not.”

“Just come to the party. I won’t have any fun without you.” Dabi pleaded, almost pouting.

Shigaraki scoffed. “Oh, please. What kind of guilt trip is that?”

Dabi tried desperately to repress a grin. “Hopefully an effective one.”

“Will that idiot bird be there?”

“He’s my best friend, Mop Head, so yeah, he’ll be there.” Dabi rationalized.

“I will trade his presence for my presence.”

“That’s unreasonable, no deal.” Dabi shook his head, thumb brushing gently over the high point on Shigaraki’s cheek.

“Whatever. It’s a maybe. And only if Kurogiri is interested. Then I will think about it.” Shigaraki said, hoping that his best-friends mutual dislike of Dabi was enough to ignore an invite. It was highly probable.

“I will bribe him if I have too.”

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Chapter One – Accidental Attraction

Chapter Two – After Care

Chapter Three – Dazed and Confused

Chapter Four – I Like You

Chapter Five - Friends and Enemies

Chapter Six - Confrontation!

Chapter Seven - Transfer Student

Chapter Eight - A Period of Learning

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years

Note

hey charity, can you describe in depth why you mistyped as ISFJ, and found your true type of ENFP (what lead you to it, does it feel like the one, etc). also what do you score on function tests?

Sure. You should know I blame my Enneagram 6 for… like, all of it.

I came on the scene assuming I was an ENFP right from the start, but that’s before I was introduced to all the stereotypes which focus on behavior and not mental processing. I thought the general profiles of the ENFP fit me really well – but then I started getting doubts because… honestly, I don’t just leap into things without looking or thinking about them first; I have not hopped on a plane to a foreign country and gone off to do exciting things without a safety net; I do not move apartments or change boyfriends every 4 months out of boredom; I can finish whatever books I start writing, without getting distracted and leaving a lifetime of half-finished tasks behind me; and I use my Ne for more than just idealism. At the time I knew nothing about Enneagram, nor that all of the above is Ne-dom + Enneagram 7 (with an sx variant of idealism). Plus, my 6 is anxious about the future to some extent, and I had read about inferior Ne being anxious about the future.

So, that threw me off a lot. I had a long list of what I didn’t realize at the time were blatant stereotypes to compare my behavior to, and coz I’m a head type / 6 it didn’t match. No one explained to me that it’s how you think, not what you do, that determines your type. So I had to resign myself to likely not being an ENFP, and because I’m somewhat introverted, that narrowed down my options (I assumed I had therefore to be IXFX). I kept reading… and found a bunch more stereotypes, especially of the “Fe is unselfish, and Fi is selfish and rude and uncaring” variety. I looked at Fi characters and saw a trait of stubbornness and selfishness I could not relate to and I had a strong reaction to of dislike. I am an agreeable person who spends a lot of time concerned with how she makes other people feel and goes along with them to keep them happy. I make decisions based on how I think they’re going to feel – so since I wasn’t some clueless and totally self-absorbed person, I obviously had to use Fe, right? (I’m ashamed of how I used to see Fi. And those “Fe is the nice one” stereotypes sadden me.)

Again, I never at that time ran across anything that explained how Fe is a social organizer and thinks in terms of “us” and “we” (the collective) which would have helped me realize – that’s not what I do. I actually have an adverse reaction to that sort of thing. No one told me Fi’s feelings are abstract and hard to tell other people about; if they had, I would have connected to it, since I have had people ask me how I’m feeling and I just stare at them in confusion, unable to articulate it because it’s all… impressions in my head. Abstract. And often out of sync with what people expect me to feel. I once had someone express to me, “Oh, I’m so sorry you didn’t grow up close to your sisters, how sad.” And I was like, “Why is it sad? I don’t care that we weren’t close. Should I care that we weren’t close? Why would you assume I’d care? And why would you express sadness over it? Because people are supposed to be close to their sisters? But why would you be close to them if you have nothing in common and no attachment to them?”

Because I quickly identified Ne in myself (THAT at least rang true – the “getting ideas outside yourself” has always been blatantly obvious to me, about me) and was going off stereotypes, I concluded (rather unhappily, I might add) that I had to be ISFJ. And, as you probably know, I stuck with it for a long time.

Several people pointed out to me that I used way, way more Ne than an ISFJ. I just reasoned that my dad was an intuitive and it rubbed off on me (cute… but that’s not how it works, not the focused, reading-between-the-lines, operating-on-hunches Ne that I use). A few other strangers around tumblr suggested to me I came across as a Te user, due to my straightforward / directive style, in which I discard any pretense of niceties and just answer questions by focusing on what’s being asked and giving an answer (no Fe “sugar coating” – I often read back over stuff later and go, “Oh yeah, I guess I could have been less blunt and less detached and more warm and personal… oops”). I assumed they had to be wrong, because I finish things and ENFPs don’t. Stupid, I know.

But ISFJ never quite fit. I left bait in ISFJ forums to entice them into abstract conversations that went ignored. I looked at my ISFJ (confirmed) best friend and could see NOTHING similar in us, from how we communicated, thought, felt, and reacted to our overall tastes and interests. And frankly, when I said I shared her type, her eyebrows shot up into her hairline and my parents died laughing. None of them knew what type I was, but it “sure as hell isn’t ISFJ.”

And then came two intense discussions over about a week that forced me to toss out ISFJ altogether and start over. In the first, an INTJ I’d met through this tumblr and had been talking to / corresponding with for a few months pointed out that our Te thinking process was similar; our conclusions were similar; my reasoning was similar to hers, as was my Fi tendency to think people are all responsible for their own emotional states. So, that threw me for a loop. Then another NF friend had a five hour argument with me in which she insisted I had to be an intuitive and came up with evidence of how fast my brain switches gears, how often I am abstracting away from things (as an example, someone dies in a movie and I cry, not because the character is dead but because I’m thinking about death / loss abstractly), and how fast I can think on my feet and discard my own ideas, and how often I contradict myself.

I finally just accepted it, tentatively and with anxiety, since I was still hounded by the 98 ways I do NOT fit the ENFP stereotype. Learning my Enneagram has helped that anxiety fade, but I still wonder if I got it right sometimes. Looking back, I can see where I screwed myself over from recognizing my cognition sooner because of my 6w7 tendency to trust / seek other people’s opinions and automatically suspect, “Well, they probably have more information / knowledge than I do… so even though it feels kind of wrong, I guess I’ll run with their idea?” Ne-dom tendency to latch onto other people’s notions even if they’re thin. If this person is married to a (7 core) ENFP who never finishes things… and I finish what I start and and steadily work at it until it’s done… then I guess I can’t be an ENFP because this person must know what they’re talking about... (Typical immature tert-Te – lose patience, just wants an answer, grabs onto one example and assumes it creates a base pattern, rushes to a conclusion that doesn’t fit, and then tries to figure out WHY this feels off.)

You ask if it feels right. Not always but I’m learning that’s owing to my tritype. My 6 finds it hard to let go of the four people out there who still think I’m an SFJ. I have anxiety about it from time to time, wondering if I’m misleading everyone, until I remember how bad I am at anything Si-related and how easy it is for me to abstract away from an object, and then I feel weirdly comforted / secure again.

Function tests. The Socionics one always gives me ENFp or INFj (INFP). I tend to baffle the similarminds test, since I get similar to these results (current):

Te (Extroverted Thinking) (70%) your valuation of / adherence to logic of external systems / hierarchies / methods

Ti (Introverted Thinking) (30%) your valuation of / adherence to your own internally devised logic/rational

Ne (Extroverted Intuition) (70%) your valuation of / tendency towards free association and creating with external stimuli

Ni (Introverted Intuition) (50%) your valuation of / tendency towards internal/original free association and creativity

Se (Extroverted Sensing) (15%) your valuation of / tendency to fully experience the world unfiltered, in the moment

Si (Introverted Sensing) (35%) your valuation of / focus on internal sensations and reliving past moments

Fe (Extroverted Feeling) (65%) your valuation of / adherence to external morals, ethics, traditions, customs, groups

Fi (Introverted Feeling) (65%) your valuation of / adherence to the sanctity of your own feelings / ideals / sentiment

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

based on your results your type is likely - unclear

HAHAHAHA.

If you’re asking me this, to try and find your type, drop all the stereotypes about the types and focus on how your brain works. Remember to factor in your core Enneagram type and think about how that might impact your dominant function. I can see clearly how 6 shapes my Ne and has strengthened my Te. It holds back my Ne in some respects (it’s like… I operate on Ne but am anxious about my N conclusions without Te finding proof), and between 6 and 1, focuses it intently; but I am still prone to leaping on ideas half-baked and running with them, since I am not always great at objectively ruling them out (which also made it hard to find my type)… which is high Ne, not low Ne. And then there’s the fact that I shock most people when I honestly say I can’t remember 95% of my childhood, much less what I just read. I realized the other day my grandparents have all been dead for over 5 years. I honestly could not have told you how long they’ve been gone – in some ways, it feels like last summer and in others, like a lifetime ago. THAT is how bad I am with actual details, even on things that matter to me. My Si basically hangs out, stressing over forgetting things / practical details and gets nit-picky about DID NO ONE NOTICE THAT’S FORMATTED WRONG?

- ENFP Mod.

#question #mbti #enneagram #enneagram 6 #enfp #mod post

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allmightchild-blog · 7 years

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Something to prove a point to my friend that doesn't watch one piece but likes doflamingo

Even in the midst of destruction and chaos of war, Doflamingo still laughs. Like many other characters he has a unique laugh, being "Fuffuffuffuffuffuffu", or in characterized English, "Heh heh heh heh". Doflamingo has immense arrogance, pride, and a carefree attitude. He seems to have a penchant for dramatic phrasing, as well as a habit of exaggerated posing when giving declarations. He fears few people, as he openly taunts Fleet Admiral Sengoku,[2] sits on the table during the Shichibukai meetings and shows only gleeful interest at the thought of warring with Whitebeard.[36] He does, however, dislike it when people take rumors and speak them as facts, and does not cave into such prejudice from such false rumors, as seen when he grew irritated when Jora stated the incorrect belief that Amber Lead Syndrome was contagious.[37] He also has an odd habit of sitting in strange positions, like on the back of chairs, on tables,[2] on barrels,[35]and even on a pile of bodies in the middle of a war zone[38] and on top of a wall.[39] He is also completely calm and cool-headed in most situations; even when Baby 5 attacked him with what would be lethal blows, he simply dodged away casually while continuing to have his conversation over the phone.[3] Doflamingo waking from his nightmare. Prior to the timeskip, Doflamingo has a complete and utter lack of fear and doubt, going as far as to rob the World Nobles of their tributes, so he could blackmail the government.[34] He is rarely seen with any expression other than amusement by any turn of events regardless of whom they affect. Only on rare occasions does he let go of his trademark smile, such as frowning in annoyance at being summoned to Mariejois, surprised when Laffitte arrived unannounced and unnoticed until he was made known,[2] and when Little Oars Jr. attempted to attack him directly. However, these moments were short-lived, as Doflamingo would usually just grin again.[40] The only genuine fear he showed then was reliving his childhood memories: due to being attacked by a mob at age 8 because of their hatred of Celestial Dragons, Doflamingo learned pain and hunger for the first time in his life. Such events have left him suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder even up to age 25, causing him to have nightmares of the torture, and wake up in fear and drenched in sweat, to cope with it he drank copious amounts of alcohol.[13] He is also shown to be deeply afraid of Kaido, one of the Yonko. If he could not create more SMILEs for his army of Zoan users, Kaido would kill him. Doflamingo shows seething rage. Two years after the Battle of Marineford, he would continue to maintain his confident smile while everything was under control. However, when Law defeated Vergo and threatened the SAD supply, and even mocked him for his lack of fear and doubt as signs of overconfidence, Doflamingo finally expressed true anger and worry.[41] When Law finally destroyed the SAD supply, captured Caesar, and used that to threaten Doflamingo into abdicating his position as a Shichibukai, Doflamingo finally lost his composure and showed utter panic and intense anger.[42] Doflamingo also showed signs of fear of someone's ability when Admiral Fujitora brought down a meteorite during the three way confrontation between, the admiral, Law and him. Upon finally losing control over Dressrosa, Doflamingo succumbed to fear, despair and fury.[43] Doflamingo became so frustrated by all this that he decided to just laugh everything off. While discussing with Law about how his father abandoned the status of Celestial Dragons and how he was setback from acquiring eternal life, Doflamingo became more and more frustrated as he relived the moments.[22][44] Furthermore, when Doflamingo becomes furious, the veins in his head begin to pop out.[42] Should he hold utter contempt for his victims, Doflamingo has a habit of shooting his victims with a gun, as shown with his father, brother and Law. “Weaklings can't pick their way of death.”— Doflamingo,[45] passed onto Trafalgar Law[46] Doflamingo seems to live by a "might is right" philosophy, believing that the strong are the ones who make the rules and will be the only ones capable of living in the "New Era". Due to his belief in this "New Era", Doflamingo seems to lose interest in other things easily, as seen with his leadership of the Bellamy Pirates[35] and the ownership of the Human Auctioning House.[36] He also threatened to quit the Shichibukai if the orders given by the World Government are not satisfactory to his likings or if they annoy him, and that he never really cared about the World Government from the beginning.[47] Though a firm believer of the "New Era" philosophy, Doflamingo, unlike his former subordinate Bellamy, himself seems to have an open opinion on dreams, though dreams themselves do not seem to interest him at all; despite his belief, he does not seem to oppose becoming the Pirate King.[48] Doflamingo likes to toy around with his opponents and victims in a sadistic and cruel way, as seen when he gleefully forced two Marines to try to kill each other,[2] and forcing Bellamy and Sarkies to fight each other and suffer injuries before dealing the final blow, all the while laughing at their pain. During the battle of Marineford, all of Doflamingo's confrontations had been for the sake of personal amusement, hinting at a sadistic side, such as when he is seen laughing joyfully after severing Oars Jr.'s leg.[40] His sadistic side is further shown as when he shot Law with lead bullets,[49][50] as a cruel reference to Law being sick from lead poisoning from when he was a child.[28] This puppeteering nature is implied by Law when he claimed that they will not act the way he expects them to.[41] Doflamingo also possesses an extremely bloodthirsty mentality as he brutally punished a gladiator for not shedding any blood for the spectators of his Colosseum fights and casually licked some of the blood from his gladiator victim off his own face. He also believes in the existence of an inherent cruelty in all human beings regardless of personality that is brought by the excitement of seeing blood and death.[51] He would go as far as committing patricide at the age of 10,[15] and fratricide at the age of 28,[14] both incidents stemming from his contempt for his victims' actions. Doflamingo has proven himself to be an underhanded businessman, as he has no intention of parting with certain goods despite placing them up for sell or prize, such as the Mera Mera no Mi and Goru Goru no Mi, and would be furious should these goods fall into outside hands. This suggests he places these events simply to earn all the profits, and then forcefully retrieve the item from the buyer/winner.[52][53] Doflamingo has immense pride in his flag, and he will let people sail under it, but has great expectations for them and will not hesitate to dispose of them should they fail him, viewing their lack of strength as tarnishing to his name. He does not have much respect for people he considers weak, and desires to only associate himself with the strong, being quick to cast aside the weak. Though he could not care less for weaker people, he does seem to have some interest in improving them if possible, as he will point out their flaws and occasionally give them second chances to please him. Despite his apathy for the weak, he often seems to make alliances with promising rookies. He adopted Trafalgar Law, Buffalo, and Baby 5 into his crew and apparently did it very early on their journeys, and treated Law and Baby 5 as though they were his younger siblings;[12] It is extremely difficult to join his crew, as most people, especially children, were chased off.[54] However, he does have an extremely strong sense of loyalty, duty, camaraderie and compassion to the subordinates who had been with him for a long time, as he expressed remorse when he had to discard Monet and Vergo,[55] felt disappointment when Law betrayed him,[42] and went out of his way to destroy eight towns simply to protect Baby 5 from her personality flaws.[12] This is also displayed by his anger when Trafalgar Law took his subordinate Jora hostage.[56] He is also much more lenient toward his crewmates' failures. Despite his loyalty, compassion, duty, camaraderie and devotion to his crew, he can still be annoyed by their antics; such as Trebol being too close while chatting with him, as evidenced by his irritated frown.[8]He cares enough for the officers of his crew that he protected Trebol from Trafalgar Law without a moment of hesitation.[22] Though his care for his new family seems genuine, he will not hesitate in sacrificing any of them when he sees it necessary, as he intended to force Rosinante to sacrifice his life to perform the Perennial Youth Operation for Doflamingo's immortality, a plan that he switched to Law when realizing that Law ate the Ope Ope no Mi intending to "educate" the boy into seeing the importance to die for him.[33] “Curse your "bloodlines" then...!! You people were born as lowly trash, destined to be controlled!! You humans and I are completely different!”— Doflamingo expressing his status as superior[57] When he was 8 years old, he had the spoiled and violent attitude typical of a Celestial Dragon, wanting slaves and expecting subservience from commoners. He also had a habit of ending his sentences with "eh" as a result of being around Celestial Dragons who spoke with this speech pattern, which eventually disappeared when he was brought out of that atmosphere and his ties and values from his former life were slowly broken. Even after his father took him away from such a life of luxury, Doflamingo clung onto his heritage, believing he still has the rights of his lost origins, complaining that he did not want to live inside a rundown shack despite being hunted,[13] and resents his father to this day for taking it all away from him. Doflamingo's arrogance stems from his heritage and he hypocritically states that what he despises the most is being looked down upon, while looking down on the world of commoners that he has been condemned to living in to this day. He believes that his suffering from his father's choice is greater than anything anyone else has suffered, deeming those instances as child's play comparing to his own miserable childhood.[22]Despite hating the Celestial Dragons for rejecting his return and swearing revenge on them, Doflamingo continues to believe to this day that he is nothing short of being their equal (if not superior), and that he has the blood of a god flowing through him, something he would flaunt at his opponents.[58] Believing his heritage to be the supporting pillar to his greatness, and that one's bloodline is the determining factor to superiority, Doflamingo held humanity with contempt, ceaselessly flaunted his title in front of Luffy, even in his final moments before Luffy defeats him, believing a mere commoner never had a chance to defeat him.[57] Born and raised in the comfort of Mariejois, an 8 year old Doflamingo was as oblivious of the outside world as the rest of his former compatriots, infuriated that commoners did not bow to him, unaware of their hatred for the World Nobles' abuse of their diplomatic immunity, and did not understand what genuine suffering was. As he suffered hunger, pain and persecution, however, Doflamingo's knowledge matured, allowing him to understand what true suffering humanity goes through first hand — though unlike his father and brother, Doflamingo in no way sympathized with the commoners' anguish nor feel any regret for them, and instead swore vengeance against all of them for daring to bring pain onto him, all the while his sadistic nature makes even more people suffer for many years to come:[13][59] he continued to have anyone who offended him in even the slightest manner utterly destroyed, having burned down an entire town for poor pavement;[24] he ran a slave shop and forced Dressrosa civilians and dwarves into slavery to insult how many slaves suffered at the hands of Celestial Dragons; he even mocked the commoners' sufferings in revenge, using the fact that one boy was killed by sixteen shots from a Celestial Dragon to be the homage of his attack against Luffy, referring the sixteen string bullets as "holy ammunition".[57] Instead of accepting how the World Nobles caused much suffering to humanity, Doflamingo cursed his father and brother for their kindness bringing them down to the mortal world,[22][33] and that they deserved to die to redeem themselves in his eyes.[60] Due to his matured outlook of life in the commoner's world, Doflamingo became very observant of the environment people grew up in,[61] as he officially adopted Law for seeing the boy's sufferings from the tragedy of the White City[13] while disliking prejudice based on inaccurate rumors (and did not cave in to such in regards to Law's illness),[37] and later rescued the sisters Monet and Sugar from the extremely unfortunate environment they grew up in.[61] In contrast, he saw the Bellamy Pirates as little more than rowdy ruffians unworthy of his positive attention, showing little to no respect for them.[35] Doflamingo refuses to die, swearing revenge against all commoners, horrifying both his family and the mob. Doflamingo has an unbreakable will to survive with pride, refusing to plea or die even when citizens tortured him in a failed attempt to break him, while swearing aloud to live through it to kill everyone in revenge; compared to how Homing and Rosinante were begging for mercy, Doflamingo's willpower utterly horrified his father, brother and the torturers alike.[59] Even when being hunted down by the Celestial Dragons, Doflamingo managed to escape them due to his will to live.[44]His strength to live on brought about a desire for immortality, which is the main reason he wants the Ope Ope no Mi. For this, he was prepared to force his brother, Rosinante, to eat it (unaware that Rosinante already possessed another power) and then order Rosinante to give up his life in exchange for giving Doflamingo eternal life, knowing that even though Rosinante is a traitor, he still could not reject his orders.[62] This setback from immortalizing himself angers Doflamingo whenever this failure is mentioned.[44][33] Doflamingo becoming fearful and shocked to learn Law bears the "D." in his name. As a former Celestial Dragon who remains fanatical with the associated privileges and history, Doflamingo has an innate fear for those who bear the middle initial "D." in their names, knowing that such people are the Celestial Dragon's natural enemies. Rosinante believed that this alone made Law in danger of being anywhere near his older brother, and that if Doflamingo should find out, he would kill Law.[13][59] Indeed, when Law reveals his hidden name, Doflamingo became shocked, and though dismissing the "D." being his natural enemy as an idiot superstition, he became reckless in battle, attacking Law furiously while leaving himself close to his attack range

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accuhunt · 7 years

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Four Years of Travelling Without a Home.

I began reminiscing about my four years as a nomad on the treacherous yet breathtaking drive to Spiti. Although Bolivia holds the title for the world’s most dangerous road, the route to Spiti in the Trans Himalayas must rank pretty close. As the Chandra River gushed along and sometimes across the “road”, it struck me just how magnificent and fragile life is. One moment, I was awestruck by the rugged beauty of the snow-peaked Himalayas; the next, I was clutching my seat, hearing the tyres screech, watching the gearbox fly uncontrollably in all directions, holding on to dear life as the driver braked just in time for our shared taxi to stop right on the edge of the fierce Chandra River.

I suppose that journey from Manali to Spiti kind of sums up the last four years for me. Breathtaking on most days, treacherous on some. On the road, and within.

I still remember, with some clarity, that dull, starless night on the roof of my rented Delhi apartment, when my soul craved more adventure. That night, I decided to give up living at a permanent address, sold most of my belongings and made the road my only home.

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: Plunging into the unknown!

Four years later, at twenty-nine, the road is still my home. And my only belongings weigh around twenty kilograms, snugly packed into the two bags I always carry. These are some musings over four homeless years of life as a digital nomad:

Nomadism is a state of mind

Fall colors, New York: Tempted to go everywhere, experience everything.

When I first went location independent, I used to tell people with some pride that I don’t live anywhere in particular. I secretly loved the surprise and awe when they tried to imagine what my life must be like. But over the years, nomadism became my normal; it was my turn to feel surprised and awe when I imagined what it must be like for someone to live in the same place all their lives.

These days, I think the feeling of belonging nowhere, and by virtue of that, belonging everywhere, is just a mindset. We are conditioned to think – by society and by the false security of our comfort zone – that the familiar place where we lay our feet and rest our heads is home. But the more I’ve travelled, the more I’ve realized that home is the feeling of becoming familiar with the unfamiliar, just like friendship is the feeling of getting to know someone unknown. And when national borders become meaningless, you feel as much at home in the rugged mountains of Spiti as you do in the home of a Mayan family in Guatemala as you do in the vast desert under the vast night sky in Jordan… and that’s how home stops becoming a place and becomes a feeling.

Read: Unexpected Ways Long Term Travel Has Changed Me

The 80-20 rule still holds true

Slovenian Alps: Everything I love captured in one photo.

I first devised my 80-20 rule in my early twenties. I had just started working full-time at the Singapore Tourism Board, and was struggling to maintain the work – life – travel balance. I have to confess that now that I work for myself, the struggle to find that balance is even more real: travelling is my work, my life and my “me time”… and vice-versa.

Over the years, I’ve heard of and witnessed enough untimely deaths and unfulfilled lives, to remind me to follow my 80-20 rule(s) more now than ever. The idea is to spend 80% of my time with 20% of the people – and on 20% of the work – that matter to me most. Even if that makes my life seem self-centred and irresponsible to some, I know it’s the only one I’ve got.

Read: How I Conquer My Solo Travel Fears

Using influence to drive positive change

Sarmoli, Uttarakhand: Aiming to spend 80% of my time in the mountains.

There came a time last year when I felt like my hedonistic travel chase was leaving me feeling empty and unfulfilled. Even with my continued focus on writing about sustainable travel in an experiential and nearly disguised way, it seemed to me that the road had given me far more than I had given back. So I found myself a blank slate notebook, and started plotting the confluence of what I loved doing, what I believe I’m good at and the causes I truly care about.

From that confluence emerged @voicesofMunsiari in 2015/16 – India’s first Instagram channel run entirely by the rural village communities of Munsiari (Uttarakhand) – empowering storytellers in remote Himalayan villages to share their life stories directly with the world, despite language and connectivity barriers.

And this year, I made my way back to Spiti, to work on a menace that is plaguing our society: plastic bottles. We began conversations with local businesses on the harmful effects of plastic and safe, eco-friendly alternatives, and built a lifesize art installation of discarded plastic bottles to encourage travellers to pledge against them. We will continue working to spread awareness online, hoping to see a sizeable reduction in the use of plastic bottles in Spiti in 2018, and ultimately aspire to make Spiti and the high Himalayas a plastic bottle-free zone.

In my keynote speech at the SoDelhi Confluence, I used the stage to urge budding bloggers – travel, fashion, food and everything in between – to think beyond just commercial success, and ask what else we can use our “influence” for. That’s something I see becoming my mantra in the days to come.

Read: How Responsible Travel Can Challenge Patriarchy in India

I love not man the less…

Satpura, Madhya Pradesh: “I love not man the less, but nature more.” (~Byron)

The longer I stay on the road, the clearer I become about the kind of people I want to interact with. Things like hypocrisy, petty jealousies, lack of respect for someone from a lower socio-economic background, even meaningless small talk, turn me off. Sometimes I worry I’ve become quite incapable of forging real relationships – and even more, that I’m okay with it.

On my part, I’ve pissed off enough people, friends and family included, who can’t stop questioning my way of life. My choice not to stay in one place. My choice never to get married (I do say never like I mean it). My choice never to have children.

To quote Meryl Streep, “I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature. I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me. I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate. I decided not to coexist anymore with pretence, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise.”

Read: An Open Letter to Parents: Let Your “Kids” Travel

Getting off the emotional rollercoaster

Zanzibar, Tanzania: Some places are more beautiful than our dreams.

I can’t say when I started transitioning from my emotional rollercoaster towards stoicism, but I did notice it recently – and with some pride. I travelled 25 hours non-stop from Spiti, 12 in a shared taxi on the treacherous “road” to Manali, then 13 in an overnight bus to Delhi – to make it in time for a flight to the Maldives where I was to relax for a week, then speak at a travel conference. I saw myself lying under a palm tree on an empty beach, the sound of the crashing waves in my ears, the gentle blue color of the water stretching into the horizon… and somehow survived that arduous journey.

But just as the bus pulled into Delhi, I got an email saying my flight couldn’t be arranged as planned. A year or two ago, I would’ve pulled out my hair, bawled my guts out and yelled angrily at the organisers. But even in my exhausted state, I just sighed, decided to treat myself to an indulgent night’s stay in Delhi, and figure things out. Ultimately, I spent 24 hours in the Maldives speaking at a panel on storytelling at the World Travel Writers Conference – and perhaps set the record for the shortest stay ever on these gorgeous islands!

The point is, I didn’t pull my hair or bawl my guts out. Because I’m slowly but surely coming to accept that shit happens. On the road, at home, in life. We’ve got to take it in our stride and move on… because the road, home and life would be so darn boring if shit didn’t happen.

Read: How I’m Funding My Adventures Around the World Through Travel Blogging

My (secret) life goal was to survive till 30, but…

Northern Thailand: Feeling greedy to live more ❤

Now that I’m circling thirty, I feel greedy about living life. In retrospect, I feel like I spent much of my teens bordering depression, plagued by an inexplicable meaninglessness no matter how normal my life seemed to outsiders. I gave myself time till 30… that notorious age that seems so out of reach when you’re in your teens and twenties. I’m glad I did, because I can’t imagine leaving this planet without having hiked solo in the breathtaking Ecuadorian Andes, or finding my paradise halfway across the globe in Guatemala, or feeling wild and free in the wild Caucasus.

Besides, as my friend often says, we’ll be dead for so long…

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: The journey continues…

A big hug and thanks to each of you for joining my adventures virtually! What’s life looking like for you these days?

Connect with me on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter for more musings from my nomadic life.

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Four Years of Travelling Without a Home. published first on http://ift.tt/2w0EToM

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ironjohnred · 7 years

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Women and arguments

Don't Argue with Women, Have Power & Choices. From the wonderful @bonecrkr. It is a mistake to argue with women. Arguments are all about words and women in our culture don’t match up words with actions and freely say things that don’t make sense and then deny that they don’t make sense. In short, they aren’t honest when trying to solve problems using discussion, negotiation and compromise. The reason they aren’t honest is because they are trying to be abusive and exploitative rather than having relationships based on mutual love and respect. Instead, deal with women in the realm of behavior. Point to a behavior you don’t like and tell her to stop, or point out a missing behavior of hers and tell her to do it. Never discuss why you don’t like it or why you want her to do something. Get used to saying the word NO….a lot. And NEVER discuss things in terms of right and wrong (it’s enough that YOU want it). Always have a consequence lined up if she refuses, and ALWAYS come through with that consequence. Flakey girls get dumped, if you get my drift. This only works if you have her replacement waiting in the wings to take her place (your needs, not people’s expectations, are what’s important). Understand that, in our culture, ALL girls are flakey and need to be dumped sooner or later, so don’t hesitate to do so, or let them get away with anything. As this behavior among men becomes common (and it is), women’s flakiness will drop off dramatically. . She's Lying . The problem here is that women lie about anything and everything….often for no reason at all. Most men, not being liars themselves, never consider that other people, particularly their women friends and loved ones, are liars. It takes getting burned, often several times, before a man wakes up to rule number one when dealing with women……don’t listen to anything they say, no matter how minor, because it’s a lie. That’s not enough though. It takes major education and rehabilitation before men even learn about rule number two (let alone, live it)…..you are the most important person in any relationship with women. 1) Who cares what they say. It’s either a lie or a manipulation and usually both. So don’t listen to it. 2) I am the only important person in my relationships (no matter the type) with women. It’s important to understand the ”woman who is the expception” phenomena. You WILL run into women (probably many women) who seem to not be this way. You will be tempted to break rules 1 and 2. DON’T DO IT! Women are sociopaths….perfect actors. A great many of them are into the whole, “I’m different” thing. They absolutely are NOT. They are the most dangerous because you will think you’ve found the real thing, completely arrange your life, mind and soul around them and then get destroyed. For months or years, you will be so overwhelmingly overjoyed that (unlike all those other losers) you actually have love in your life from a woman who truly cares about you. This is the worst and most insidious of lies and once it is revealed, well, there’s nothing left. Falling for the “woman who is the exception”, is a good way to end up contemplating eating a gun. Don’t do that either. It is possible to have good relationships with women but only if you force it to be on your terms and understand that they are time limited. You enjoy them for as long as they last. Understand that they will be over, probably sooner, rather than later (so you want to leave at the first sign of bad behavior) and you have to constantly engage in behaviors that bring new women into your life. . Everything Out of a Woman's Mouth is a Lie! . Everything out of a woman’s mouth is a lie…..especially when they want you to talk to them about something. There can be no resolution of problems because there is no transparency, no introspective honesty on their part. What they want, as far as this goes, is to be heard, not to communicate. The act of being heard by another is addictive to them. If you are a good listener and can clamp down on your own need to say stuff, you can manipulate how they see you, and, indirectly, how they treat you. Good treatment comes when a woman sees you as powerful, desirable and very much prone to being stolen by the competition. One thing that has zero effect on how they treat you is talking things out, and working through relationship issues. The reason is simple. While you may be sincere and motivated to have a deep meaningful relationship based on equality, trust and mutual caring, respect, warmth and love…..she NEVER is. She may pretend to but it is an exercise in pain, as she manipulates you into doing one inappropriate thing after another while constantly changing the rules at random. But, take one step outside that door, and see her behavior change instantly. Of course, eventually, she will boot your ass right out that very same door. But she was going to do that eventually, anyway. . . You Cannot Change Women . There are three things you need if you want a lot of women to be attracted to you. The first is you need to be in shape. Not being fat is good but being muscular is better. The second thing you need is the right clothes. What are the right clothes? The clothes that women react positively to you in (as opposed to the clothes you want to be wearing). Want to learn more about the right clothes than you ever wanted to know? Go sign up for one of R Don Steele’s workshops on this. Be polite. Steele isn’t known for tolerating bad behavior….at all. The third thing you need is the right attitude. Whole books can and have been written about this. But, the crux of the issue is you must be completely assertive with a woman, have options and be willing to dump women who engage in bad behavior. Steele is a good source and I highly recommend his books. However, that being said, you cannot change women, you cannot change women, you CANNOT change women. Your relationship is time limited. There is no way around that. You cannot make decisions about women that contradict that fact. If you do you most certainly will suffer. Your ability to enjoy that time with the woman is strictly dependent on how vigilant you are and how much power you cultivate in relationships. Once your power is gone, it’s gone, and you can’t get it back. If you allow a woman to stay when you have no power over her, she will destroy you (dump any woman you don’t have power over, immediately). How do you know you have no power over her? She feels free to engage in bad behavior. Now all women do this a little bit to test you. The difference is when you call her on it, she laughs in your face instead of stopping. Most men give up their power a few weeks into a relationship. Big mistake. My point here is: don’t spend too much time worrying about theories with regard to women. Stay focussed on behaviours…..learning and refining what works from what doesn’t. There is a hell of a lot out there that sounds good but is worthless. Pull little bits and pieces and test them out. Keep what works and discard the rest. . No, no, No, NO, NO!!! . Quite obviously all women have become insane. It’s not that they eschew logic (actually, they are quite good at coming up with rationalizations). It’s that they spend the lion��s share of their efforts seeking out insane situations, engaging in insane behaviors and basically destroying themselves and anyone stupid enough to allow them the tiniest bit of say in their lives. The solution is equally obvious……don’t give them even the tiniest bit of say in your life. When I say tiniest, I mean it. No matter what they ask for, no matter how innocuous, you must say no to it. You must never ask them for anything, even the simplest, most smallest thing. If you want something from them you must tell them to give it to you. Although you say it nicely, it must be a command. The very second they say no to you, you need to dump them. It’s sad to say, but that’s what it takes just to prevent a woman from ruining your life, which she will do 100% of the time if you don’t do this. A woman can and will move on, eventually to find someone who will let them ruin their life for them. Not enough men know about this yet, although many more know about it today than just a few short years ago. Eventually, most men will know it and women will have few to no options for this. They will have to change or do without. It will start with relationships first. Few to no men will get married each year and a great many men will seek wives from outside cultures. Next, these same men will look at women in the work place and ask, "Hey, do these female employees have merit?" You’ll find few women being promoted unless they can do the job.Last to change will be the courts, as more and more, it is discovered that MOST of the female issues in court are based on lies. Most rape cases….lies. Most alimony/child (mommy) support based on lies. It will become very common for courts to assume a woman is lying about certain issues…..especially with regard to non-stranger rape and almost everything with regard to divorce. However, it all starts with one simple word…..no. No is the magic word that will protect you from women…..today. No, we won’t get married. No, you can’t move in with me. No, I don’t want to meet your parents. No, that kid isn’t mine. No, you can’t have any money. No, I just don’t want a monogamous relationship. No. No. No. No. NO. . The Number One Mistake Most Men Make with Women Is... Talking to Them! . I think you are making the number one mistake that most men make with women. You are talking to them. Trying to have an honest, equal, intelligent conversation with them is like me trying to explain to Pushkin that terrorists, Nazis, and Satan worshipers are bad people…..a fruitless endeavour. The problem is, they’re nuts and most of their mental power is focussed on rationalizing their nutty behavior. They will take every avenue to twist the truth in ways that are amazing to behold, and God forbid you should pin them down and dissect exactly what they are doing…..they hate you forever for it (and just keep on, keeping on). What’s the point? Quite frankly, if you don’t want something from her (and let’s face it, that means pussy), then you shouldn’t be talking to her. If she shows no interest in giving you what you want in the near future, you should not be talking to her. Now, let’s say you want something from her and she is giving you major signals that she wants to give it to you. You need to talk to her. However, keep in mind two things. First, within reason, the less you talk the better. The more you listen to her, the more a brilliant conversationalist you seem (they are COMPLETELY self-centered and only one subject is a guaranteed hit…..themselves). The less you reveal about yourself the better. Women don’t love you, they love the fantasy of you and all that revealing just bursts their bubble. The second is anything you do say should be completely goal focussed. Think about this. You want something from her. The things you say to her should have the goal of opening the path to her giving it to you. If you are talking about something (rather than inane small talk) or explaining something, you have drifted away from your goal and are fucking up. When talking to women, there are three things that should be coming out of your mouth. Inane small talk about something unimportant that you are both observing. Open ended questions about her. And various techniques for fostering attraction (for example, David D’Angelo has an excellent series on this). If one of these three things isn’t coming out of your mouth, you are probably explaining something or arguing. Although it’s satisfying to be heard by someone, it is fostering a negative image with her and every other woman observing you with her. You are driving the pussy off with a stick. Sad, but true. . The Problem with Discussing Things with Women . The problem with discussing things with women is their half of the debate is essentially made up on the spot with no basis in reality and subject to change instantly to either prove them right or to support a decision they’ve already made at random. That’s a big difference between men and women. Men use critical thinking to make decisions while women use critical thinking to rationalize decisions they’ve already made. If the decision they made worked, the rationalization tends to be of high quality. If the decision fails (usually, it does) then the quality of the rationalization is intentionally poor, to cover up specific things they did that caused the failure and to avoid taking responsibility and (gasp) change, at all costs. Obviously, you can’t work out things or negotiate with a person who does this and shouldn’t even try. A side effect is they will hate you if you manage to box them in a corner analytically and will disrespect you if you just give up. It’s a lose/lose situation, so why bother? The limit should be……Hey, I’m going out to “fill in the blank”, wanna come? No. Ok…..bye. The bad news is she made that decision at random. So, you can’t change her mind (well, sometimes you can, but it’s degrading and just not worth the effort). The good news is, ask enough women and one will randomly say yes. This is a far cry from being normal. But it is what it is. Normal would be a woman only considering men she thought were attractive and then getting to know men from that pool until she found one that was compatible, then focussing her attention on that man until love started to develop. Then start a sexual relationship with that man. No woman does that. . Who Cares What Women Are Thinking? . Who cares what a woman may or may not be thinking inside? What matters is their behavior…..how predictable it is and most importantly, how you can (or cannot) get them to behave. You cannot get them to be honest, not cheat on you or respond positively to virtuous behavior. What you CAN do is get them to treat you nicely in the short term and severely limit the damage they can cause when they inevitably leave. What’s going on with women is that they are freakin’ psychos. And being insane, it’s impossible to have a sane intimate relationship with them. You can either be forced to have an insane intimate relationship with them or you can have a sane relationship where you keep your distance. Sad to say but relationships with women in this country are about power, not love. If you give up the former in pursuit of the latter, you will suffer. However, I agree that one should never blame women for the way they are. Judgement is the first step toward acceptance of responsibility, then forgiveness and redemption. Women just aren’t capable of participating in that. Although men are and always should when necessary. . What Matters is the Amount of Power and Choice You Have in a Relationship . You know, if women really were only looking for a good provider, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I mean, in most cultures it seems that part of what men are expected to provide is security for their wife and family. The problem comes from the fact that most american woman are stuck in such a negative vibe. They don’t want a nice home, financial security and the best for themselves and their children. What they want is to exploit a man for cash while they screw around with drug dealers. They don’t respect themselves and they certainly don’t respect the provider…….which is why men avoid marriage. I guess what I am saying is the problem is NOT a misunderstanding of the roles between men and women, miscommunications, needs not being met, whatever (despite what tons of closet homos, like Dr Phil would have you believe). The problem is the quality of the character of the average woman is very, very low. One, you have no control over that. They will NEVER change, no matter what you do, unless they decide on their own to change for their own reasons (realistically, that just doesn’t happen). The only thing you can do is switch women constantly, making sure each new woman has a character that is better and better. But, since noble character is soooooo rare, it is the quality that gives a woman the most status. In other words, a good woman can demand any type of partner she chooses and get it. Unless you have worked your way up the status ladder, she has no reason to give you the time of day. Much less so than say, a penthouse pet would or an rich heiress like Paris Hilton would. But two, you have to make damn sure you have the lions share of the power in any relationships you have. Why? Because you will have to constantly control negative behavior from those you are involved with. If you can’t or won’t, it will rapidly escalate into severe abuse. If you allow it to become very advanced, it will result in a marriage, plus kids, and then divorce, personal ruin and despair. It’s sad to say but you cannot solve this problem by being sane, loving, and nurturing in a relationship. Although that is nice, it is irrelevant. What matters is the amount of power and choice you have. Both niceguys and evil men are harmed by women when they haven’t cultivated power in relationships. And both niceguys and evil men can have success with women, but only if they cultivate power and choice instead of love with women. The difference is the niceguy does it in a positive way. He says says no to all requests and refuses monogamous relationships. Although he cares about women, he is completely detached. The evil man, slaps a woman down when she “gets out of line” and laughs in her face whenever she expresses a desire or need. Everything out of his mouth is a lie or a putdown. What is horrible is women cannot tell the difference between benevolent detachment and callous indifference. They are both equally attractive to them. . Men Who Sleep on the Couch . This topic is one of the many problems that happens when you allow a woman to weasel her way into living with you (which is part of the point as to why she wanted to). You can’t easily leave. You definitely can’t leave without destroying the relationship. Contrast this with what you could do if you weren’t living together. "Look babe, I’m just not satisfied with your behavior. I’ll be back when you decide to behave. If it happens too many times, I won’t come back." Not sleeping with her (especially if you are sleeping with someone else) becomes empowering, rather than disempowering. Of course, she can do the same thing, but while your your desirability goes up when you do this, hers goes down. Plus, don’t kid yourself; she is going to do it anyway. Why should you accept the problems inherent in monogamy when she won’t? My point here is, you lost the fight waaaaay back when you allowed her to move in with you, not when it comes down to her trying to get you to sleep on the couch. Also, if she is doing this, it means your relationship is over. She may hang on (sometimes for quite a bit) but the good times are done and she is looking for your replacement. This is a harsh, complicated thing when living together. But when not living together, it is as simple as erasing her number off your speed dial.

#masculinity

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