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darkshadow90 · 4 years

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Arthur Fleck/ Arkham Joker x reader: Unwelcome Visitor

Summary: You’re in the hospital recovering from injuries you received on the night the Joker attacked you. During your last night at the hospital, you receive a visit from a man you don’t recognize...at first.

A/N: Hey guys. This is the follow up to my one shot, Interrogation. I was originally just going to write about what happened to the reader on the night the Joker attacked her, and then have it end when he leaves her at the hospital. But I thought you might like more of a follow up type of story. So instead, this will pick up with the reader at the hospital. She reflects on what happened to her that night. During the night before she leaves to go home, she receives a visit from the Joker. She doesn’t recognize him at first because he just escaped from Arkham. Warnings: There will be mentions of stabbing and sexual assault. The reader will be assaulted again. There are threats of violence and victim blaming. This is not dub con, it’s real sexual assault. In his sick mind, Arthur/Joker thinks the reader will fall in love with him. He thinks she appreciated what he did that night, so he does it again, but at the same time, he knows what he’s doing is wrong. I know this will be dark and triggering for some of you, and it’s okay if you don’t want to read it. Things like this happen everyday. It is not romantic, nor is it meant to romanticize acts of violence and sexual assault. Since some of you like my darker stories, I thought I would write about something featuring dark subject matter. Please remember this is only a story. As it says in the title, I’m basing Arthur’s/Joker’s personality at the end of the movie. The look in his eyes is pure evil, and if he was unstable enough, he might actually do something like this. The man we see at the end of the movie is not the same man we had come to know in the rest of it, He’s not Arthur. This story does not show him in a positive light. You have been warned. With that being said, I hope you like it. As always, please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings.

It had been a week since the Joker attacked you. Your recovery had been coming along nicely. Thankfully no major organs were damaged, but you still lost a lot of blood from the injuries. Thanks to the staff that was on call that night, they were able to stop the bleeding, and patch you up. They wanted to keep you in the hospital for a few days to give you time to heal and manage your pain. You remembered bits and pieces of the attack. You couldn’t remember everything that happened after he stabbed you, but you remembered most of it. You were on your way home from work. You were working a late night shift. You knew how dangerous Gotham could be, especially at night, but you had no other options. You weren’t expecting out of all the people who could’ve hurt you to be the Joker.

He had came out of nowhere. He grabbed you and you had just enough time to see who it was and screamed. He had began stabbing you. He had stabbed you four times, at least that was the amount of times you counted. He had stabbed different places on your upper body. You were confused and terrified. Why would the Joker come after you? He usually dealt with mobsters. You weren’t anyone special. Then again, it was the Joker. He probably didn’t always know why he did what he did sometimes. You began to feel lightheaded. You expected him to keep stabbing you, but he stopped. The look on his face softened. You couldn’t tell if he felt sadness or remorse. He looked around frantically, like he didn’t know what to do. You briefly remember him pulling at your pants, but you blacked out for a little bit. It was probably best you didn’t remember the assault. You knew you had been assaulted because while your jeans were pulled back up, you were sore between your legs. “Can you move at all?” You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to. You wondered if it would upset him and if he would decide to kill you. He sighed, and you were lifted from the ground. He was carrying you, but to where and why? You were blinded by the lights of the entrance to the ER. You realized you had been brought to the hospital. He carefully placed you in front of the entrance. He crouched down to you and kissed you. “Don’t feel bad about yourself.” You wondered why he would say something so strange. You smiled, relieved that it was finally over, and he left. It wasn’t long before a nurse found you. As she left to notify the emergency staff, you grabbed her arm. Through labored breaths, you told her the Joker had done everything to you before you finally passed out from the shock.

When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. Your wounds were bandaged. You felt extremely tired and you were in pain, but you were alive. The detectives came to question you about what happened. They wanted to confirm everything you told the nurse. They told you when you were being cared for by the staff, one of the nurses noticed bruising and semen on your genitals, which was an indication of sexual assault. The detectives asked you if you thought you were sexually assaulted and you said yes because you felt sore between your legs. You told them the Joker did it and they looked at you sympathetically. They told you they caught him, and you didn’t need to worry since he would be locked away in Arkham for a very long time. They gave you a social worker’s contact information so you could contact her and receive counseling when you leave the hospital. You thanked them and they left. You couldn’t really do much aside from stay in bed and rest. It was your last night at the hospital, and you were looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed. You also wanted to see your friends again. Aside from the nurses coming in to check on you and redress your wounds, you didn’t have many visitors. That was probably a good thing since the pain medication made you drowsy. You got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It was decent enough. You decided to look into the small cabinet to see what was inside. There were small plastic tubs, washcloths, and soaps for sponge baths. Sometimes it was easier to have those things nearby in case the nurses needed them. When the nurses would come to check on you, patients would have accidents, and it was much easier to have the things needed to clean them. That explains why you would see them leaving with bathing materials. Thankfully, you weren’t in that category. You went back to bed and dozed off for a bit.

It wasn’t very long before you woke up to the sound of your door being opened. Visiting hours were over, and you obviously hadn’t asked for a nurse. You closed your eyes and turned over, thinking you weren’t entirely awake. Or maybe you were hallucinating. You felt a hand touch your shoulder as if the person was trying to wake you. You saw a man you didn’t recognize. He had dark hair and stubble on his face. Something about him made you uneasy. You noticed he was wearing white scrubs. The only nurses who had been to your room were women. Maybe he was a male nurse making rounds? “I wanted to see you, I had to.” You had no idea what he was talking about. “Who are you?” You felt groggy from the medication, but you were aware of everything. You knew you weren’t dreaming or hallucinating when you could smell his scent. He smelled like cigarettes and aftershave. It was a familiar scent. “I know you told them about what happened.” That was when you knew who he was. You saw it in his eyes. You immediately panicked and reached for the call button, but he took it out of your hand. “No, you don’t need that. We wouldn’t anyone to get hurt, now would we?” You knew you had no choice. You had to cooperate or you would risk getting yourself and someone else hurt or worse. “Good girl.” He got on top of you. “I missed you, Y/N. There’s something about you. You’re a lot like her. You’re a nice person like her, so soft and easy to take advantage of. You’re easier to take advantage of than she would’ve been. You shouldn’t have been out so late at night. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” He sounded like a concerned father scolding his daughter. You were so confused. You didn’t know who he was talking about. He shook his head. “But it’s okay. I showed you how dangerous it is. I can keep you safe and make you happy. I saw the way you looked at me before I left. You were smiling at me, happy about what I did.” You heard nurses talking in the hallway. You tried to get up, but he had you pinned, and put his hand over your mouth and shushed you. “Don’t make me hurt you. I already warned you about what would happen. If you or someone else gets hurt, it’ll be your fault.” You stopped trying to fight him off. You felt extremely vulnerable in your surroundings. You couldn’t do much to fight him even though you wanted to. He didn’t touch your upper body. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about him messing up the bandages and you could leave your gown on. He pulled at the waistband of your hospital pants. You were exhausted and weakly protested, but he didn’t listen. You looked at the ceiling and closed your eyes. You just wanted to sleep through what was happening. He thrusted into you. “So sweet,” he murmured. You winced. He kept going, but didn’t say anything else. “I love you,” he groaned before pulling out. You were repulsed by him. He was a very sick man, but it didn’t excuse what he did. He got off the bed and went inside the bathroom. He came back out with a small tub of water, a wash cloth, soap, and a towel. He didn’t say anything as he cleaned between your legs. ‘Get your disgusting hands away from me! Do not fucking touch me!’ you screamed in your head. You wanted to scream at him so badly. You were so angry, you wanted to claw his eyes out. He dried you off and helped you put your pants back on. “You know, you really should’ve asked for a cop to guard your door. It was way too easy to get in here.” Even in a hospital, a place that’s supposed to be safe, couldn’t protect you from him. “I’ll find you once I get everything squared away. I miss you already.” And with that, he left. All you could do was hope he didn’t know where you lived, and hope that the police would catch him before he had the chance to find you again.

@shaw-2000

#joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joker fandom #joker imagine #joker x reader #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019

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slashhack · 5 years

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Leatherface (Thomas Hewitt) X Reader: Spring Break

anonymous: May I get a Thomas Brown Hewitt first meeting reader who doesn’t see him as dumb or scary and shows him kindness in small ways. (Perhaps she is on a road trip and gets stranded?)

(Note: Sorry for the ridiculously long wait! Hope this lives up to your expectations! And sorry about the word count... I just couldn’t stop writing, lol.)

“Are we almost there?”

Ash tightens her grip on the wheel, gritting her teeth. “We’re about twenty minutes closer since the last time you asked, but no, Damien, we are not ‘almost there.’”

“God, we’ve been driving forever!” Damien says, sighing heavily. His on again-off again (currently on again) girlfriend, Katelyn, nods emphatically in agreement.

“When are we gonna stop? I’m hungry, and I have to pee,” Katelyn whines.

Ash’s eye twitches. Next to her, in the passenger’s seat, Frankie fiddles with the road map. She seems unaware of the fact that Ash is contemplating driving into a tree to shut Katelyn and Damien up (in a way that doesn’t involve them subjecting the rest of you to gross make-out noises).

“Do we have any water?” You ask. Unfortunately, rather than diffuse the mounting tension, all your question does is shift Ash’s ire to you.

“No, we don’t,” Ash replies tightly. “Which wouldn’t be the case if someone had stocked up before we started, like they were supposed to.”

You sink a little lower in your seat.

Frankie reaches out to place a soothing hand on Ash’s knee. “Deep breaths, babe. There’s gotta be a gas station or a rest stop or something somewhere around here. We can stop in, grab some stuff, and get right back on the road.”

“Wouldn’t have to if everyone had just done their part in the first fucking place,” Ash mutters.

Damien snorts, barely attempting to disguise it as a cough. Katelyn outright laughs.

Needless to say, your spring break road trip with your dorm-mates is not going well. The past few hours have seen growing friction between all of you, and you’re almost certain that - despite the fact that one of the goals you’d made for this trip was to form positive relationships with the others - the rest of the group may or may not be planning on stranding you in the middle of nowhere.

(Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, they may not seem to like you all that much, but they're not evil. They wouldn't leave you out in the middle of Texas with no way to get home.

...Right?)

At the first rest stop you find, you volunteer to get out and get coffee and breakfast bars for everyone (except Katelyn, who hates coffee). When you’re handing Ash hers, you lose your footing, and about a quarter of the fresh-brewed coffee sloshes onto her lap. Ash swears a blue streak, insulting you in pretty much every possible way. Frankie gives you a sympathetic look as she mops up the spill and consoles her girlfriend, but doesn’t say anything.

When Damien busts out his radio and asks what music everybody wants to hear, you tentatively offer a suggestion, and he ignores you. You repeat yourself, thinking that it’s possible he just didn’t hear you, and he rolls his eyes.

“I heard you, I just don’t wanna listen to some dumb bullshit.” He grins. “My radio, my right to veto garbage tunes, dude.”

Katelyn laughs. “Ooh, put on K-OKLA!”

Damien smiles crookedly and extends the antenna. “Anything for my girl.”

You decide to take a nap.

(At this point, anything is better than this.)

A good while later, after the stash of granola bars and beef jerky has dwindled down to nothing, you finally reach what appears to be a tiny general store in Travis County. You once again volunteer to go on a supply run. (You’re only mildly disappointed when nobody offers to come with you, or even to help you pay.)

The wooden door creaks as you enter, and when you cross the threshold you aren’t surprised to find a homey interior, complete with photographs and a taxidermied buck’s head mounted on the wall. There’s a woman with cat eye glasses smoking at the counter, so you approach with a shy smile.

“Um, do you have anything that comes in wrappers or is resealable?”

The woman takes a thoughtful drag from her cigarette before saying, “I got some jerky I can wrap up for ya.”

You nod, digging out the remainder of the money you had allotted to the trip. “That would be great. How much is that?”

Praying that what you’ve purchased is enough and having nearly depleted your funds, you step outside, plastic bag in hand. “Hey guys, I got some-”

The bag of jerky slips out of your hand.

The van is gone. In its place, you find your suitcase, laying in the dirt. Dumbstruck, you walk toward it.

You can't believe they ditched you. You thought they were better than that. You thought…

You aren't sure what you thought.

They're probably long gone, and now you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere. You don’t have a car, you have barely any money, and you certainly don’t have any idea what the hell you’re supposed to do.

Behind you, the door to the shop creaks open.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” It’s the woman from the shop.

Blinking hard, you say, “My friends left me.”

A gentle hand is placed on your back. “They left ya?” There’s a pause. Perhaps the woman sees your suitcase, because she says, softly, “Oh.”

You take a shuddering breath, and then bend down to pick up the bag. You turn to the woman.

“Is there anywhere I could stay in town?” Remembering the alarmingly small amount of money in your possession, you add, “...For really, really cheap?”

The woman shakes her head. “Ain’t much around for miles.” She hesitates. “But…”

Your breath catches. “But what?”

“Well…” The woman puts a hand on her hip, and with the other hand she adjusts her glasses. “I s’pose you’re welcome to stay with my family and me for the night. Just for the night, now,” she says pointedly. “Then tomorrow we can have the sheriff drive you to the next town over.”

You feel a fresh wave of emotion crash over you, and almost collapse under the weight of your relief.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say. Then you laugh. “Gosh, I don’t even know your name, and you’re being so kind to me…”

The woman smiles gently at you - the first time you can recall her smiling. “My name’s Luda Mae, dear.”

You offer your name in return, thanking Luda Mae again for her kindness.

Against all odds, it appears that your horrid luck is taking a turn for the better.

Luda Mae has two sons. She tells you about them as you help her close up shop and on the trip to her home - first about her eldest son, who sounds curmudgeonly and abrasive, but well-meaning when it comes down to it, and then about her younger son, Thomas. From the second she begins speaking about him, it’s obvious that she adores Thomas; you tell her so, and she nods.

“I love my boy with all my heart,” she says firmly. “Thomas has seen so much pain, all his life… Lord knows my Thomas has earned a little love.”

Luda Mae also tells you about her brother, Monty. She doesn’t have much to say about him, other than that he’s in a wheelchair and that you aren’t to let him bother you.

“You’re a guest, and we treat our guests with respect. If he starts actin’ up, you just let me know,” she gives you a little pat on the arm.

You smile bashfully. “I will.”

When you finally make it to Luda Mae’s family home, you’re curious, but not shocked; you’re a big believer in not judging people based on their appearances, after all. Why would a little old lady, running a mom-and-pop general store, living in a plantation style manor with her family throw you for a loop?

Entering the house, you immediately see an old man in a wheelchair - Monty, you presume - sitting in the living room watching television. He looks up at the sound of the opening door, doing a double-take when he spots you.

“Who the hell’re you? What’re you doin’ in here?” He makes to wheel himself around.

“Now, Monty, don’t you start none,” Luda Mae says. “This here’s a guest of ours. Stayin’ with us for the night, that’s all.”

“What for?”

Luda Mae looks at you, nodding as though to give you encouragement. Taking that as a cue, you say, “My dorm-mates - we were on a road trip, and I got out to buy some food for everyone. By the time I left the store, they were gone. I found my suitcase laying on the ground outside.”

Monty is silent for a moment, as though he’s mulling over your situation. Finally, he shakes his head and turns back to the television, muttering, “Hoyt ain’t gon’ like it…”

Luda Mae scoffs, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t matter none what Hoyt likes, this is my house, and he ain’t too old yet to listen to his mama.”

Monty doesn’t have a response to that.

You feel your respect for Luda Mae growing more and more by the second.

Luda Mae gives you a brief tour of the house after showing you the guest room, in which you’ll be staying for the night. She walks you through the kitchen, points out a couple of different bathrooms, and tells you where her room is - “just in case of you findin’ yourself needin’ somethin’.” She also, strangely, makes a point to tell you to avoid the basement. You’re curious, but you don’t want to be rude, so you don’t ask why. You do ask if her sons live with her.

“They do. Hoyt’s the sheriff, so he ain’t gonna be home for a while, but Thomas is probably down in the basement. Doin’ what, I couldn’t tell ya, but he just about lives down there.”

Well, that answers your unspoken question, then.

“Don’t you worry,” She continues, “you’ll be meetin’ Thomas and Hoyt. Wanna make sure they know you’re a guest - ‘specially Thomas. He’s a little bit protective.”

Once again not wanting to risk seeming rude, you nod as though you understand. (In truth, you’ve got even more questions now, but you’re not going to interrogate this nice woman in her own home. After all, if there was really a problem with you staying, you’re pretty sure she wouldn’t have invited you.)

Luda Mae is in the middle of asking how you feel about stew when you hear what sounds like a sliding metal door being opened. She gets a slightly nervous look on her face; she lifts a hand to her mouth and says, “Oh, that’ll be Thomas.” She glances at you for a moment before calling, “Thomas! C’mere a second, I got somebody for ya to meet!”

You hear footsteps coming towards you from the direction of the basement. They’re fairly heavy - Thomas must be a sizeable man.

After a brief pause, a figure - a very tall figure - comes to loom in the doorway.

Luda Mae clicks her tongue, putting a hand on her hip. “Don’t be shy, now. C’mon in here.”

Thomas’ shoulders rise and sink slowly in what you suspect to be an inaudible sigh, but he obeys, stepping further into the room. Now, you have a clear view of him.

He’s easily around six and a half feet tall, with long, wavy dark hair that reaches his shoulders. Curiously, he’s also wearing a strange leather muzzle-like contraption that encompasses much of his face; it shows his eyes and mouth, but covers his nose, ears, and most of his skin, and the straps come up over his ears, meeting over the top of his head.

Smiling and giving a little wave, you say, “Hello,” and tell him your name.

You think he gives a short incline of his head, but he doesn’t reply. He looks you over, and you can feel yourself starting to shrink under his silent gaze.

Luda Mae puts a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry none. Thomas just ain’t a talker; don’t take it personal,” she gives you a reassuring little pat, and you relax again.

Luda Mae’s attention drifts to the clock on the wall, and she does a double-take. “Good gracious me, is that the time? I best get supper goin’. Stew is all right, you said?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am!” You say, nodding. “Stew is more than all right with me.”

“Good, good,” Luda Mae turns to Thomas and says, “Sweetheart, you mind keepin’ our guest company ‘til Hoyt gets back? Don’t want him to think we got trespassers.”

Thomas gives a single, slow incline of his head.

Luda Mae seems pleased. As she goes to leave, she pats you on the shoulder and says, “I’ll leave y’all be, then. Don’t you worry; you’re in good hands.”

As his mother rushes off to the kitchen, Thomas gives you an unreadable look, surveying you once again. Apparently satisfied with whatever he sees, he turns around and begins to walk off. You assume that you’re supposed to follow him, so you do.

Thomas leads you outside, and the two of you walk for a bit, toward a small garage which stands separate from the house. When he reaches the entrance, Thomas stops, looking back at you over his shoulder for a moment.

It dawns on you, after a moment, what he wants.

“You want me to wait here?”

Thomas nods.

You smile. “All right, then.”

Thomas goes into the garage. You hear the sounds of metal scraping and what you presume to be things getting moved around. You’re beyond curious as to what’s going on, but you resist the urge to crane your neck and try to see. Thomas asked you to stay back for a reason, after all.

After a few minutes, the sounds stop, and Thomas returns, a sack hefted over his shoulder. He gestures with his head for you to resume following him, and you do so without argument.

“Where are we going?” You ask without thinking. Thomas gives you a look out the corner of his eye, and you feel warmth rise in your cheeks. “Sorry.”

You’ve never encountered someone who can’t speak before. You wonder what it must be like, not being able to verbally communicate. You imagine it must be very difficult.

The two of you walk for a good while longer before reaching a fence that you assume marks the edge of the Hewitts’ property. Thomas grunts, swinging the bag off his shoulder and opening it.

He walks a couple of feet along the fence before pulling out - to your surprise - a bear trap, which he places on the ground, kneeling down to set it.

“Is there… Is there any way I could help?” You ask, startling yourself. Thomas seems to be nearly as caught off guard as you; he glances at you, his brows furrowed. After a moment (during which you consider rescinding the offer, just out of embarrassment), Thomas nods shortly. He picks up the burlap sack and holds it out to you. You accept it, surprised when its weight nearly topples you; Thomas had been carrying it so effortlessly, you hadn’t realised how heavy it must be.

You’re not sure how long you spend following Thomas around the property, setting new traps, checking old traps, and sometimes just stopping to look out over the vast space, but you do know that by the time the bag is empty, your feet are starting to hurt. After the bag is empty and you’ve covered every square inch of the Hewitts’ land, Thomas leads you back to the garage, once more indicating for you to wait outside as he takes the sack from you and goes in.

As you wait for Thomas to return, a sheriff’s car pulls up to the house. A man in a sheriff’s uniform, with bushy eyebrows and light, silvery stubble, gets out. When he sees you leaning up against the outside of the garage, he immediately starts toward you. Taking a moment to recall what you know about Luda Mae’s eldest son, Hoyt, you realise that this must be him.

You smile, waving a bit. To your confusion (and discomfort), this seems to cause Hoyt’s expression to sour considerably. He’s yelling as soon as he’s within earshot of you: “What the hell’re you doin’ on my property?”

You shrink back against the wall, your eyes widening. “I-I…”

“Get the hell outta here,” Hoyt shouts, advancing on you quickly. “You’re trespassin’ on private property! You don’t get outta here right now, I got a right to shoot ya!”

“P-Please, no! I’m not- I swear I’m not trespassing, I, I-”

Hoyt makes a grab for your forearm with one hand, the other lifting up, and you stiffen, squeezing your eyes shut, preparing yourself for a blow.

Only it never comes.

Opening your eyes, you suddenly find something - or rather, someone - obscuring your field of vision. Thomas.

“Tommy? What the hell’s goin’ on here,” Hoyt growls. “We got trespassers?”

Thomas shakes his head firmly. He reaches back and tugs you forward to stand next to him, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

You can see, now, that Hoyt looks bewildered.

Thomas nudges you, and you realise now is your chance to explain yourself.

“I-I,” you pause, take a deep breath, and then continue with as much conviction as you can muster. “I’m not a trespasser, I’m a guest. L-Luda Mae invited me to stay for the night after my… my dorm-mates abandoned me.”

Hoyt doesn’t seem convinced, but just as he opens his mouth, Luda Mae’s voice floats across the yard from the backdoor: “Supper’s ready! Y’all come on!”

“Comin’, Mama!” Hoyt calls back reluctantly. To you, he says, “We’ll just see about that, won’t we, now?” With that, he stalks off toward the house.

You watch him go until the door closes behind him. When it does, you let loose a shaky breath, lifting a hand to your mouth.

Thomas is still standing next to you. His hand is still resting on your shoulder, the strangely familiar weight helping you stay grounded.

“Thank you, Thomas,” you say softly, almost timidly. “Thank you for protecting me. That was…” You sigh. “...That was really scary.”

Thomas seems unsure how to respond. He nods, his eyes avoiding your face.

He doesn’t remove the hand from you shoulder. You find that you don’t really mind.

You reach up hesitantly, placing your hand on top of his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s go inside,” you say.

Thomas nods again, and the two of you set off for the house.

You almost swear that you see the faintest hint of a blush on what little you can see of his face.

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xianarcissamalfoy · 4 years

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Curiosity Killed the Kat. Satisfaction Brought her Back. Part 1— Avengers x platonic!OC— Loki x OC

Warnings: The Avengers being rude, mentions of torture, my OC being sassy, a pretty serious chapter, Loki being sweet, probably some other stuff

It was loud. It was annoying. It was, sadly, my alarm clock. Sorry, my name is Katherine Isabella Thomas, but everyone calls me Kit. I turned eighteen two months ago, and I am an Avenger.

My mother is Sarah Wilson-Carter, the younger sister of Sam Wilson; the Falcon. Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved my mother. But when she gave me up when I was nine, I wanted nothing more than to bash her skull in with Thor’s hammer (Sorry, I’m a mythology freak), especially since she gave me up because her new husband made her choose between us. Now, I live with my Uncle Sam. And ever since he became an Avenger, I lived in the compound with him.

I love the Avengers. I loved Captain America and Howard Stark and Peggy Carter (the list goes on) and I especially love Bucky Barnes. I’ve heard all the stories. Steve got his ass kicked in an alley and Bucky somehow always knew and saved him. Steve got the serum and rescued Bucky, the only thing Bucky was concerned about was Steve’s safety. Believe me, the only person that knows more about Bucky is... well, not Bucky that’s for sure. Steve or Natasha, probably.

I’m the baby of the Avengers. I’m a fully grown adult, but to them I’m still eleven years old. Which means, the nickname “Kitten” never went away. I liked when I was a kid, but now it’s kinda annoying. Like when people call me “Kat”. Honestly, any nickname they could come up with is going to be worse than “Kitten” but when you’re eighteen and the only thing you want is to be treated like you’re eighteen (other than a photo with Loki, of course), it gets annoying.

My clock read 8:00 am (wayyy too early when you stay up binge watching Game of Thrones or The Office, binge reading Harry Potter, or binge writing on Wattpad and Tumblr) and I quickly hit stop. I walked to my dresser and pulled on one of the many Black Sabbath t-shirts I stole from Tony.

My bare feet padded along the hardwood floor as I made my way to the dining room where everyone, including Thor and Tony, were. “Morning guys.” I yawned, making myself a cup of coffee.

“Is that my shirt?” Tony furrowed his brows as he played with the hem of it.

“Yeah.”

“So it’s you who’s been stealing my shirts and not Natasha or Wanda?” Tony huffed, pushing my cup out of the way and pouring himself a new one.

“Yeah.”

“Are you just going to keep saying ‘yeah’?” I looked up at him.

“Yeah.” Tony rolled his eyes as he leaned over the island. “You know how much money I could make off of this t-shirt? It’s currently listed at a quarter of a million dollars.” Rhodes let out a long whistle. “I wonder if I can make it to three quarters.”

“Kitten, we have more important things to talk about.” Steve interrupted. “Thor?”

“Thank you, Captain. You’ve all heard me talk about just how much my father hates Loki’s actions.”

“Don’t we all.” Tony muttered, receiving a glare from Thor.

“Anyways, Father has decided that Loki is no longer welcome in Asgard until he repays for his crimes against earth. Mother agrees. I was hoping that he could maybe... stay here? In the basement?” Clint spit out his coffee, choking on it. Natasha lent over to rub his back as I suppressed a giggle.

“Absolutely not. He is not coming within two hundred light years of Bruce and Kit.” I rolled my eyes at Clint’s statement. This is what I mean by overprotective.

“I agree. Having both Bruce and Kit in the compound while Loki is just a few floors underground... that’s not a good idea.” Steve agreed, looking around the table to see nods of agreement. Except from me, Wanda, Pietro, and Vision.

“Apologies, Captain, but I believe it most beneficial for Loki to repent for his crimes against Earth. He may not make it to that stage considering you all want to kill him, but regardless, Thor has repeatedly told you all that that wasn’t Loki who attacked New York. It was the mind stone. And if Loki was mind controlled, who’s to say he was ever truly evil?”

“I agree with the walking microwave.” Pietro spoke up, his hand gently massaging my shoulder. He was my best friend and he knew what I was thinking. “Besides, you forgave Wanda and I for knowingly trying to kill you all, including Kit, what is the difference?”

“You were kids. Loki wasn’t. The mind stone alters your emotions so that whatever you’re feeling is the only thing you can think about. In Loki’s case it was releasing an alien army into New York and killing eighty people.” Natasha growled, trying to hide under her calm demeanor.

“Natasha how many people have you killed?” I spoke up, my voice strong. “How many people have you guys killed, actually?”

“That’s Natasha’s past, Kitten. That’s not who she is now.” Sam reassured me but I merely scoffed.

“She wasn’t under mind control. It might be her past but if we’re going to treat Loki the way you guys are treating him, who’s to say this isn’t a scam? A ruse to get you all to trust her so she can stab you in the back? Do we truly know?” Natasha glared at the island, her grip so tight it began to bend the spoon.

“Kit, stop. This isn’t your decision-“ Steve ordered gently but I ignored him.

“What about you guys? You’ve all killed people. What’s the difference?”

“Those were bad people Kit. That’s the difference.” Bruce sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“But they had families. Friends. Lives ahead of them. Honestly are we any better than HYDRA? Any better than anyone? Who is to say who’s a good or bad person? Who is to put a group of people so high up on the throne, tat they can make such decisions. Is that our job? Because if that’s what the Avengers is all about you guys are idiots. No wonder Ross and all those countries wanted you to sign the Accords.” I snapped, saying the last sentence under my breath.

“Kit, you’re taking this way too personally.” My uncle announced. I chuckled slightly.

“Rule ten: ‘Never get personally involved on a case’.” I argued before turning to Steve. “And what about Bucky? He was mind controlled and we’ve all come to terms with that. Tony is still a bit sore because Bucky killed his parents but he’s trying. Why can’t we do the same for Loki?” I looked up at Thor. “You have my permission.”

“Mine too.” The twins announced together before squabbling over who said it first which ended up in them fighting on the floor. I smiled at the two. Wishing I had a sibling to do that with.

Vision agreed as well, leaving it up to the others. Bruce eventually broke, Sam and Rhodey as well. “Steve, Tony. We know Natasha and Clint aren’t backing down. It’s up to you. Well really and truly it wouldn’t matter because you’re outnumbered but still.” I smirked gently.

“Actually I’ve begun to see Kit’s point.” Clint muttered and all heads snapped towards him.

“You do?” I scrunched my nose.

“I don’t trust him.”

“I never said you needed to.”

“I don’t trust him, but I’m willing to allow him to try and gain some respect. Natasha and I are on the same page. He wasn’t completely in control of himself. I was brainwashed and mind controlled too. I know the trauma that lurks afterwards. If there is a sliver of a chance Loki can change back into the good man that Thor is always talking to Kit about, them why not give him a chance?”

“I guess it’s settled then.” Steve sighed. “Thor, bring him in. Stark, Banner, I know you guys have been working on the power cancelling bracelets. Are they finished?”

“Well there might still be a few kinks left in them. The twins are gonna be our test subjects for the moment. Kit you wanna come?” Tony asked and I shook my head.

“Nah I’ve got something I need to take care of before we’re all out on edge. I’ll see you guys later.” I hopped off the barstool and refilled my coffee before heading to the elevator. “Library please, Friday.” Thor squeezed into the elevator before the doors closed, taking up most of the space.

“Thank you, Lady Kit for standing up for my brother.” I looked up at Thor who was looking at me already.

“Everyone deserves a second chance. But if he tries something, I’ll kill him.” Thor chuckled, patting me on the head.

“You’re cute. And tiny.” Thor blew my threat off quickly. If only he knew it wasn’t quite empty.

When Loki arrived the whole compound was buzzing. Natasha and Sam forced me to suit up, not wanting to take any chances with Loki. Black armored leggings, an armored tank top, green boots that went up to my knees, and a black leather jacket with gold accents. It was my color scheme, because green was the color of my mother’s eyes. I still, to this day, honor her despite what she did to me.

I had a black, leather holster on each thigh and calf, Berretta M9’s on the thighs, daggers with green leather strips on the hilt for grip. It was strange how they let me carry all these weapons and have seen me pull a few triggers but they think of me as innocent.

“Ready Kitten?” Tony asked and I nodded, pushing the double doors open. Loki was standing in the middle of the cell, in trousers and and a green shirt, the sleeves rolled up his elbows. I gasped when he turned to face me, for his eyes were colorless and lips sewn shut.

“Thor we aren’t going to leave him like that, are we?” I questioned before I even got to the quietly speaking group.

“He can’t use magic if he doesn’t have a voice, Kit.” Tony said, patting me on the back.

“Are you serious? I could somewhat understand a gag, but that? You’re fucking with me, right?” They flinched at my tone of voice. I usually don’t cuss in front of them.

“Kit it’s better this way, he can’t-“ Sam started but I cut him off.

“No! It’s not better! He has to be in extreme pain right now and none of you care?!” Even Thor looked to the ground. I scoffed. “Fuck you. All of you.” I walked up to the cylinder, scanning my badge and eye so the door would open.

“Kit. You’re not allowed in there.” Steve said sternly but it was too late. I was already in.

“If I’m not allowed in here then how come you guys programmed it so I could open the doors?” I snapped, not bothering to look back at them. “Loki?” I asked in a gentle voice. He was watching me intently, his eyes trailing over me as I got closer. I held my hand out for him to fake but he flinched away so I pulled it back by my side. “Loki my name’s Katherine, but everyone calls me Kit. I’m eighteen, I love to read and write and draw. Thor is like the older brother I never had. He tells me about you from when you guys were kids. About how you once turned him into a frog and how he secretly enjoyed it despite saying he didn’t.” I smiled at Loki. “Would you like to sit down?” Loki nodded and slowly but surely did. I plopped down next to him and this time, he didn’t flinch away.

“What is she doing?” Sam hissed, getting ready to get me out but Thor held him back.

“She’s treating him like a person.” Thor whispered watching us.

“Bruce can you go grab a first aid kit for me?” I asked and the doctor scurried away. “You can trust me Loki. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.” I held out my hand once more and he tentatively took it. I smiled up at him and rubbed reassuring patterns on his knuckles. “I’m happy I finally get to meet you.” I whispered, and he hummed. His face was bruised and cut, some more recent than others. “Loki, I need to clean you up. Will you let me?” Loki seemed to think about it for a moment before he nodded gently. “Okay. Come on.” I stood and helped him up, on of his arms wrapped around my shoulders to help him walk.

“Where are you two going?” Clint questioned, all of them following us to the elevator.

“FRI take us up to the common room.” The elevator began to move and Loki looked a bit worried. “I’ve got you.” I whispered. When the doors opened back up I steered Loki towards my bedroom, despite the growing protests.

I set Loki down on my bed as I gathered everything I would need and turned the bath water on, pouring some essential oils (lavender and eucalyptus). I checked the temperature before walking back to Loki. Everyone had gathered in my room to protect me but it was obvious that I wouldn’t need it.

After Loki undressed (I looked away, yeesh) Thor helped him down into the water. Loki sighed in contentment under the warm water and soap bubbles. “Can I play with your hair?” Loki nodded and I smiled widely. His hair was knotted, obviously not taken care of in at least a few days. Once I had the conditioner in it (it smells like an English forest in my bathroom now) it was easier to comb out. Loki has his eyes closed throughout it, lifting his neck up now and then when I needed him to. I pulled it into a bun with a scrunchy so I could move on to wash his body.

I poured my lavender soap onto a loofa and gently scrubbed away at the dirt, blood, and grime. Eyes were on me and they definitely weren’t the good kind. I looked up to see the team staring at me. “What?”

“How can you treat him with such kindness, Kit?” Tony asked and I shrugged.

“I guess I’m more compassionate than any of you.” I blew the question off, returning to getting Loki clean, though I did let him do his own.. crotch and ass (I might not be as innocent as everyone thinks but I do shy away from everything sexual. Unless it’s on Tumblr or Wattpad). I rinsed him and Thor helped him climb out and dry off (thank you Thor I’d be as red as Nat’s hair if I had to do it).

Loki looked much more comfortable now that he was in a pair of sweatpants that hung lowly on his hips and a shirt that was too loose, laying back on my bed with his hair fanned out. “Feel better?” He nodded, lips trying to smile but he winced. “Don’t smile. I’m gonna get those out for you, Loki. But it’s going to hurt.” He sighed through his nose as I gently cut and pulled the thread out. It left holes in his gorgeous, pink lips; holes that Thor said would close up in time. As soon as I cleaned up the cuts on his face Loki sat up, mouth opening.

“Thank you.” He croaked out, eyes shimmering with tears. “I didn’t think I’d ever get those out.” Loki’s gaze darted to the floor.

“Well its a good thing you have me now. Because that dick of a stepfather you have is gonna get a piece of my mind if I ever see him.” I threatened, bringing a small smile to Loki’s face. “And you aren’t going back to that cell.”

“Kit, you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Sam warned but I glared it him.

“You guys didn’t really think that once I had Loki looking like himself I’d send him back down there so Heimdall knows what can happen?” I snapped, cleaning up the nightstand where I had set everything.

“Is that.. is that a saying on Earth?” Loki asked me quietly and I shook my head.

“No. I’ve always been interested in mythology, and before your idiot brother got himself exiled that’s what you two were. Norse gods that nobody believed in. Except me and demigods, of course.” Loki looked at me intently. “On Earth, a demigod is the child of a god and a human. That child can have children with other humans or gods and their descendants will always be called demigods.” Loki nodded slowly. “In Norse mythology, you’re the son of Laufey, a woman, and the brother of Odin and brother in law of Frigg, also known as Frigga.”

“Mortals get so many things twisted it’s headache inducing.” Loki pointed out.

“Yeah like the fact that you gave birth to an eight legged horse named Sleipnir who is Odin’s war horse? Or the giant wolf named Frenrir? Or that Hel is your daughter? Everyone knows she’s not.” I rolled my eyes.

“Hel? Why in the nine realms would anyone believe she’s Loki’s daughter?” Thor demanded.

“Well they do look alike.” I offered with a shrug.

“And she does call me Faðir since I accidently let her into the living realms, once.” Loki grimaced.

“Okay enough of this mythology geek talk.” Tony interrupted. “Time to go back to the cell.”

“No.” I said, crossing my arms as I stood in front of Loki.

“Kit, move.” Steve ordered.

“No. What is the old saying... ‘When the mob and the whole world tell you to move, plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth and say, ‘No, you move.’ So unless you plan on forcing me,” I reached for my thigh holster. “Loki stays.” Everyone looked at each other before Wanda carefully made her way to me.

“You sure you want to do this?” She asked under her breath. “I can go in his head, see if he’s planning something.”

“No. Loki won’t change if we don’t trust him.” Pietro said after speeding over.

“I believe Loki has changed.” Vision agreed, floating over to us. “And I believe Kit is right.”

“What do we do now?” Rhodey muttered. “I don’t want to fight them especially because they have our stongest members on their side.”

“I agree.” Clint sighed. “Alright, kid. Do your thing. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.” With that Clint hopped into the air vents and was gone.

“God sometimes I hate him.” Tasha grumbled before following suite.

“We should probably trust Kit’s judgement. She was right about Bucky and the twins, after all.” Bruce offered. “This can be like a top secret assignment.”

“An assignment that can go south real fast.” Sam argues. “Kit, step away from him or you’re grounded.” I laughed a little though my expression held no humor.

“The only problem with that is I’m an adult. I can make my own choices and if you refuse to see that then fine. I have friends in high places I’ll go under the radar and you’ll never see me again.” Natasha pokes her head out of my vent.

“It’s true. I trained her how to do so. You’ll never find her especially if she has people on her side.” Natasha disappeared again.

“I hate it when she does that.” Tony mumbled.

“I hate it when you guys treat me like a child but here we are.” I snapped.

“Kit, we’re worried about you. You’ve never acted like this before.” Steve said gently.

“Actually this is the same way she acted for Bucky and the twins, Rogers.” Rhodey turned to Tony. “She’s usually right when it comes to this stuff.”

“You have a point, Rhodey.” Tony sighed. “Alright, kid. You can have the god but he’s wearing the bracelets.”

“Tony really?” Sam threw his hands up in disbelief.

“Yes really, Sam.” Steve stepped in. “I don’t trust Loki but I do trust Kit. You should too.”

“I do trust her-“

“Then let her do this. That’s an order.” Sam stormed out of the room at Steve’s sentence. “Kit, he tries anything, you kill him.”

“Yes sir.” I turned back to the god. “Come on, Loki. Let’s get you settled in.”

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angelaiswriting · 5 years

Text

Jealous | Arthur Shelby x reader

[original picture from pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Arthur Shelby x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Arthur is eaten alive by his jealous thoughts. (Requested by Anonymous)

✏️ A/N: this is probably not what the requester was thinking about, but I couldn’t bring myself to write angst for Arthur just yet, so it’s just him and his worries here haha I hope you’ll enjoy anyway, though!

✏️ Beta-read by @sweetvengeancee

✏️ Warnings: just mild jealousy + talks of war (I finally realized it could be triggering to someone)

✏️ Word-count: 1,912

The ticking of the clock is deafening – each tlick and each tlock are like bullets flying past him, grazing the lobes of his ears as his fingers stiffen in their hold on his still-full tumbler.

It’s extenuating, waiting for her to come home – for Y/N. He shouldn’t even be in his living room right now, but down at The Garrison to celebrate another good deal with the latest fixed race. And yet, here he is – eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, stomach too knotted to stand any of the whiskey in his glass, muscles too tense and locked to even allow him the slightest movement.

He is… jealous.

It costs him all he has to admit it, but he is – he is fucking jealous of his fucking Y/N. But he is also scared and while he should’ve proposed to her a long time ago, he still has to make his move. And the lack of a ring on her finger is what stops his mind when she goes out.

It’s heavy – the world, the struggle of keeping a smile on his lips when all he feels is animal jealousy for something – someone – he can’t call his yet.

It’s also stupid, to be feeling like this at his age – and just three years after the end of the war – that same war that has turned him into yet another kind of beast. It’s stupid and yet, inevitable: she could be doing so much better without him – she could have so much better, a man he can’t be anymore. She deserves the world and yet she’s tied down to him, she can’t fly away like the freedom-starved bird she’s always used to be.

He can’t set her free, however – his jealousy won’t set her free, not when she’s the only thing, the only person keeping him sane – or as sane as he can be as he walks in a dream-like world half-way between the past and the present. If she goes, if she leaves him, he knows he will go back – back to where everything is brown and blue like exploding ground meeting the sky, back where everything tastes like dirt and smoke and blood. And death.

Death scares him shitless, but the idea of losing her is even worse. It eats him from the inside as all kinds of jealousy-induced worries swarm in his brain like maggots in a carcass.

Y/N with another man.

Y/N with another man because Arthur is just a burden – because she’s with him just out of pity.

He doesn’t know why he thinks this, doesn’t know where this thought comes from because a look at her as she glances at him and everybody knows she’s smitten – head-over-heels in love with him and therefore, off-limits. But Arthur Shelby knows he’s a difficult person to deal with – he can’t leave what he left in France just as he can’t stop himself from snorting cocaine like the white powder were fairy dust, the only promise that manages to take every evil thing away.

She hates it when he’s high. He knows she used to love it at first – the first two, three times – four if he’s lucky, but he never is. But Tokyo turns him into a machine gun and he shoots a thousand bullets a minute. And it scares her. He’s so fast he can’t stop and he has to run to keep up with his brain – he laughs like the war never existed, he feels the world slow down around him, and by God, he fucks like an animal. He fucks so wildly and messily that she’s always covered in bruises the morning after and she’s so sore he has to carry her in his arms to the bathtub.

There’s never violence, though, just desperate, desperate will to live. To feel alive as the drug works its burning magic in his veins. And to love. And to feel loved.

He’s twitching now – twitching to stand up, cross the living room and open the tiny wooden casket of divine magic sitting proudly on the mantelpiece. A few, precious grams of snow and he knows his jealousy will be gone, incinerated by the only thing that helps him cope when she’s not around.

But he doesn’t move – he can’t move – he loves her too much. He loves her too much to subject her to the presence of his drugged-out-of-his-mind self.

And he trusts her, he does.

Who he doesn’t trust, though, is everyone else – the men back at her old camp, ready to greet her as she goes back home for the seasonal celebration, whatever it is today. She’s unmarried – unclaimed – and he doesn’t want to allow himself to think of her as an easy target. Firstly, because she’s not easy at all; secondly, because the idea of her being someone’s target makes him shiver and squirm inside.

Johnny Dogs is there – there’s a faint voice in his head whispering these words in his ear. And whether it is the residue of the cocaine in his fried system or his rational mind, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because, in his jealousy-induced trance-like state, Johnny Dogs is just as bad as everyone else.

It’s a fight for who lives and who dies in his mind, between the desperate need to stand up and drive to her camp and the will to be a good man – the only good man she’ll ever need.

And it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard he finds himself sobbing behind tight fists as his teeth bite down into his flesh. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly crying and fuck, does he hate it. Fuck, does he hate this weakness, hate the way she’s squeezed her way straight to his heart, his brain, his fucking core – but fuck, does he also love the way she makes him feel. Alive. Breathing. With a living heart and a living mind and a living future right ahead of him and all he has to do is reach a hand out to grasp it, for it’s never out of reach, never too far from him.

And he cries in silence because the war has eaten him alive just to then throw him up an insecure shell of what he’s once been. He cries because his heart loves her and he only wishes his mind could jump on the same wagon. He cries because while his heart wants her to spend her life by his side, his mind is telling him he’s just a cage – and she’s spent her whole life trying to escape the cage her family and Birmingham built around her one bar at a time.

Then, not even five minutes later, the sobs cease and there’s no more heavy breathing in the living room, just the incessant tlick-tlock of the clock on the mantelpiece. Arthur’s back is straight once again against the seatback of the chair – he’s not slouching anymore and his right hand is wrapped around his glass of whiskey once again.

He’s calmer.

He doesn’t realise he’s stood up, crossed the living room and sniffed some snow, though. He realises it too late, when he’s sitting back on his chair, his sobs quietened, his tears dry on his cheeks.

And it’s too late.

His mind is always a minute too late – that’s one of the many souvenirs he’s brought back from the French wasteland he never truly left behind. He’s slow – his body is slow, and his thoughts always too fast and he has to sweat and pant to keep up with them.

Time passes – quickly, slowly, then quickly again. Tlick, tlock. Tlick, tlock. And then, tlick, tlock again. It’s placid and he feels like he’s floating in petrol. And the more he sits there, the more his brain floats in the confinements of his skull, the more the ticking clock lulls him.

Cocaine gives him the illusion of being able to see the hands of the clock more clearly than he truly does. It quickens their movement and then it slows it down. And it’s like being on a swing.

He’s a kid again and he’s swinging and he can hear his fucking aunt scold him because he’s swinging too fast, he’s going to fall and hurt himself.

His eyes close for a moment and he swears it’s just that, one fucking moment. He needs to take his mind off of everything and Tokyo is helping him do just that. But somehow, the white powder warps time tonight and when he opens his eyes again, it’s six thirty-seven in the morning and the entrance door is quietly closing.

His mind swims in cotton wool and it’s hard to wake it up, to convince his brain to order his hand to grab the revolver lying on the table and point it in the direction of the intruder.

“Arthur?”

His eyes meet hers and she’s standing in the doorframe, caught in the middle of taking her scarf off.

She’s back, he thinks and it’s like being ridden of the weight of the world, until that moment perched like a bird of doom on his shoulders.

“What are you doing up already?”

There’s a frown settled on her features and as he stares at her, he finds himself still swimming in confusion.

He’s slowed down once again.

She sighs, then, and she sighs again when she lets her overcoat fall into a heap on an armchair. Another sigh as she rounds the table to stop next to him. “You didn’t go to bed last night.”

It’s not a question, it’s an affirmation. She reads him like she reads tarots, like he holds no secrets in front of her.

He swallows – and it’s like swallowing a bullet and he can feel its knot sink down into his stomach and pull him down to the centre of the Earth. “Some thoughts kept me up,” is all he can say. And his voice is lazy, slow, and it tastes like lies. It tastes like jealousy has eaten its path to the very centre of his being.

“There’s always some thoughts keeping you up when I go out.”

It’s another affirmation. She’s turned the tarot and she’s put it back down onto the table, its face looking up at a dull ceiling.

“And you always worry about the wrong things, Arthur.”

Another affirmation, another card.

And he can’t look at her – he never can when she works her witchcraft.

“I know,” is what he forces himself to respond. And he does know, he truly does, it’s just – it’s easier to swallow a lie than the truth.

“Your jealousy has no reason to exist with me.” Her voice is a whisper in his ear as she kneels down next to him. She pries his hand from around the glass and she presses a kiss to his cheek – and she finds it coarse as her lips brush against his stubble. “I only want you.”

“I know.”

She chuckles and the sound makes him smile. “One day your mind will catch up with your heart and you’ll laugh at this silliness.” It weighs like a promise and when he turns to look at her, he knows it is. “Let’s go to bed now.”

I am not exactly super proud of this, but here I am anyway. Feedback will be super appreciated; I’d like to know what you think of this fic if you feel like dropping by with a message ❤️

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi

Peaky Blinders: @whimsylavender @thethyri @friendleyneighbourhoodvillain @oddsnendsfanfics @medievalfangirl

People that might be interested: @sweetvengeancee @flowers-in-your-hayr @kellydixon01

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #angelaiswriting

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k-popscenxrios · 5 years

Text

Didn’t Ask For This Part 16 (Roommate!JK x OC)

A/N: I’m sorry for the drastic time skip, but there really wasn’t anything interesting plot wise to write about up until this next part of the story. I keep getting more and more ideas for this, so don’t be surprised if the next one isn’t the final part. Also, this is the first part that I’m posting the same day that I’ve finished it. I really do want to finish this story before the release of BTS World! Let’s hope I make that goal!!

Summary: “I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he spoke as he grabbed my wrist and once again turned me around to face him, “and quite honestly, I don’t think I’ve done anything horrible enough for you to hate me to the degree that you do.” “You say that like the hate isn’t mutual,” I remarked as he shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his face as he took a deep breath, “I think you are quite honestly one of the worst human beings I’ve had to come in contact with.”

5.1k words | drama ✞ | fluff ♡ | mature themes (implied smut) ✗

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | Finale

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

The summer was flying by a little too quickly for my liking as I looked at the calendar on my phone nervously. Taehyung and Jungkook told me that their dorms were opening again two weeks before their classes officially start. Taehyung was making it sound like they were going to move out once the dorms opened up, but they never clarified anything with me.

That day is fast approaching, and I couldn’t help but feel dread constantly in my gut. We only have a week left until their expected leave, which meant I was going to be living alone again.

I was definitely not ready to wake up to that reality. I was getting so used to the three of us living together that I refused to accept the fact that they’re going to eventually leave.

Jungkook was very good at deflecting all talk about leaving for college. Every time I tried to bring it up, he’d just smile and give me a soft kiss before changing the subject. I couldn’t help but worry about how the two of us will handle being apart from each other. We’re used to seeing each other every single day both at home and at work.

“You know that I’m not going anywhere, right?”

I snapped out of my depressing thoughts as I looked up at Yoongi. We were supposed to be cleaning theaters right now, but we had a power outage due to severe thunderstorms a couple hours ago. Everyone has been passing out apologies over customer’s movies being cut off, giving them free passes for the next time they come in.

We’d closed the theater down to customers for the day, but Yoongi and I were unlucky enough to be two of the people stuck in the building to clean up the nonexistent messes left behind by unhappy customers.

“I know,” I nodded as I locked my phone to quit staring at the haunting dates, “I’m not trying to imply that I’ll be alone at work… it’s just, how do I go back to living alone? I’m used to Jungkook and I making grocery runs together. I’m used to having help when bringing all the bags up the three flights of stairs. I’ve had them around to fix the garbage disposal when it breaks for the four hundredth time. They’ve been around to keep me company and watch shows with me in our free time.”

I paused after my rambling, trying to keep my emotions in check, “I’ve become so dependent on the two of them that it’s going to be hard to adjust to being on my own again. I’m going to look around my apartment and remember all the good times that I had with them.”

“Look, Ari,” Yoongi grabbed my phone and put it face down on the bench in between us, “it just sounds like you need yourself a new roommate. Doesn’t that sound like it’ll fix a lot of your problems?”

My eyes slightly narrowed at nothing in particular before I glanced over at Yoongi curiously, “I guess I didn’t think that I could get another roommate. Even if I do that, it’s not going to be anywhere near the same as how things are now.”

Yoongi looked down and gave me a slight shrug, “You’re still going to miss them, sure, but you’ll have someone to keep you company at home.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, slowly growing fine with the idea, “but how do I go about finding a new roommate? I’d ask Chaeyoung, but I’m pretty sure she’s moving in with her sister once school starts back.”

Yoongi stayed quiet as I looked his way curiously. His eyes were fixated on the ground before he mumbled out his next words.

“I think I know someone who needs a place to stay.”

I grabbed my phone from the bench and scooted closer to him. He glanced over my way for a couple seconds before he sniffed and let a slight laugh out of his mouth, “Ah, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

I pursed my lips and slightly narrowed my eyes at him as he kept his eyes focused on the floor. “Yoongi.”

He didn’t respond, so I sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Do you need a place to stay, Min?”

He slightly stiffened as my arm placed around his shoulder, but he didn’t shove me off like I thought he would. He didn’t confirm or deny as I just watched his face carefully. “My mom’s thinking of moving in with her new boyfriend. Quite frankly, I don’t want to live with the guy. He’s nice and all, but he’s…”

“Not your dad,” I finished. Anytime his mom’s boyfriend had come up before, that was what he said. He’s had a tough home life he’s gone through, but he hardly ever talks about it. He hates it when people pity him after finding out his dad was killed in a freak car accident.

“Well, I have a room that’ll be freeing up in the next… week, I guess. They won’t tell me when they’re officially leaving, the jerks.”

Yoongi let a small smile appear on his face as he glanced over at me. I saw the guy smile pretty often, but it was his bright, gummy smile that I’ve only seen a handful of times.

“You don’t think Jungkook will have a problem with you living with another guy?” He asked, the smile not leaving his face.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, moving my arm from around him, “If you’re the guy, he’ll be fine. He trusts you to not make any moves on me.”

Yoongi just laughed and nodded, the mood between us brightening considerably. I felt better about the end of the summer, now. Sure, living with Yoongi won’t be the same as living with Jungkook and Taehyung, but I could learn to get used to it.

“I looked forward to living with you, then,” I nodded, holding my hand out for him to take. He glanced down at my hand before taking it, firmly shaking it.

“Same to you, Ari.”

Yoongi and I were finally free to go home when we met up with Chaeyoung. She had been asked to stay and deep clean behind the concession counters, and I could tell that she was exhausted. They liked to take strange days like this and work us to the bone with deep cleaning. Lucky for Yoongi and I, we got the lesser of the evils.

“I wanna die,” Chaeyoung whined, “I feel like my whole body is covered in grease, sweat, and popcorn. I’m so sick of seeing popcorn you guys. I might go insane.”

“I’m with you, there,” I agreed, “I’ve never really liked popcorn, but this job has made me hate it.”

“I still like it,” Yoongi shrugged as Chaeyoung and I ignored him.

“Anyway, how are things with Jimin?” I asked, Chaeyoung’s mood slightly brightening. She and Jimin have been having a lot of little arguments here than there, but judging from her reaction, the two of them were on good terms again.

“Great, actually. We’ve finally figured out the root of all of our arguing, and now that we’re aware of it, we hardly argue. Jimin’s been really sweet recently, and we’ve actually been trying to schedule our classes together for this coming semester.”

I felt jealousy budding after she said her last words. It must be great going to the same college as a couple… I tried to not feel too bitter towards her, but I couldn’t help but feel that way every once in a while.

“Sounds awesome,” I nodded with a smile on my face. She could even sense my bitterness as she was quick to drop the topic.

“How’s it going with Jungkook and Tae?” she asked, kinda switching topics. I took a deep breath and felt Yoongi’s eyes on me as well.

“They won’t tell me when they’re leaving for sure,” I confessed, “And it’s really bothering me. They could leave as soon as a week from now and I wouldn’t know it. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if they just all the sudden came up to me tonight and told me that they’re leaving tomorrow.”

“They wouldn’t do that to you, Ari,” Chaeyoung shook her head, but I’m not convinced.

“Wouldn’t they? Jungkook has told me multiple times that he’s not good at goodbyes. I’ll kick his butt if he packs up all his stuff and leaves in the middle of the night without saying goodbye,” I ranted, trying to not get myself too worked up. I felt my heart drop in my chest when I started thinking about just how upset I’ll be if Jungkook leaves without saying goodbye to me. “I want them to make up their minds about this. It’s killing me.”

“I’ll beat it out of them,” Chaeyoung nodded my way with a serious look on her face, “I’m sure they’ve decided by now.”

I just nodded, but I couldn’t let go how paranoid I was making myself. Jungkook would not do that to me. We still have so much that we haven’t talked about. He hasn’t told me about if he’s ever going to drive down to spend the weekend with me. He also hasn’t reassured me that we’re going to stay in touch despite being four hours away from each other.

He’d never consider cutting me off, but I couldn’t help but feel paranoid about it. I knew it was an irrational fear, but I won’t let myself rule it out until I actually talk to him about it.

“I’m gonna head out,” I pointed to my car and started walking toward it, “I’ll keep you two updated once I figure out this mess.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Chaeyoung nodded and sent me a thumbs up, “Everything’s gonna be okay, got it?”

I tried to smile and nod, but it was very forced. They could both tell judging from their concerned looks.

“I hope so.”

…

When I first walked in the door, I felt my heart drop. The apartment was eerily silent which was causing me to get very paranoid. I locked the door behind me, holding my breath and I rushed to look into Jungkook’s room.

His bags were still here. Thank God…

I looked into Taehyung’s room and his bags were also still here. They’re not gone, they’re probably just hanging out somewhere. I can wait for them to get home and then hopefully they’ll tell me when they’re leaving…

…

It was about 1am when the sound of the front door opening woke me up. I had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for the two of them to get home. I didn’t expect them to be out that late.

I started to get paranoid that they were drunk, but as I opened my eyes and met with Jungkook’s, he just looked tipsy. Knowing him, he could be a little more drunk than he lead on. He was very good at seeming sober it he wasn’t too far gone.

“Hey,” he said softly as I sat up and moved my hair out of my face. He sat down next to me on the couch and I could faintly smell alcohol mixed in with his cologne.

“Hey, Kook. Where were you guys?” I covered my face as I let a soft yawn escape. Taehyung walked over to the two of us, plopping down on the couch to my other side.

“We just went out with some college friends. They drove down here to spend the day with us, so that’s why we didn’t get home till now,” Taehyung explained as I just nodded and glanced back in Jungkook’s direction. His eyes moved away from mine as he noticed me looking at him. He was obviously more intoxicated than Taehyung, and the look he was suddenly trying to hide from me was making me feel uneasy.

“Do I know these friends?” I asked as I looked back over at Taehyung. His previous relaxed attitude was slowly shifting to discomfort as I spun around to look at Jungkook. I caught the tail end of Jungkook motioning for Taehyung to keep quiet. My eyes narrowed at him before I spun around and gave Taehyung a pressed look.

“I doubt it,” Taehyung shook his head, ignoring the intensity in my eyes, “Yugyeom, Youngjae, and Baekhyun? I don’t think I’ve mentioned any of them to you.”

I could almost hear Jungkook sigh as I swallowed and bit the inside of my cheek. So first, he won’t tell me when they’re leaving for sure. Second, he’s hiding something from me about who he was with tonight. What’s next? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he packed his things and left for college in the middle of the night.

“So it was just the five of you?” I asked as Taehyung raised his eyebrows, “And nothing… bad happened tonight, right? Like, nothing you’d need to hide from me.” I paused and turned to face Jungkook. His face was burning red as my eyes tore into him. “Right, Jungkook?”

Taehyung put a hand on my shoulder and just laughed it off, “Nothing happened, Ari. Jungkook’s just paranoid that you’re gonna be mad at him for drinking a little too much.”

I didn’t believe Taehyung for one second. Jungkook had gotten drunk before now, and I was certainly not angry with him in any way. He was lying to me again.

“Jungkook,” I called out to him as he stumbled over to me. I had been out with Chaeyoung for the night, only to come home to find a drunk Jungkook. He grabbed onto my shirt and buried his face into my hair with a sigh.

“Babe, you’re home,” he softly spoke into my ear, his breath tickling me as shivers ran through my body.

“And you’re drunk,” I commented as he just giggled.

“Sorry,” he didn’t sound very sorry, “Hoseok came over and brought some alcohol. I may have had some.”

“Some?” I laughed and pushed him away slightly so that I could look into his eyes. His eyes were clouded over as I just smiled and rolled my eyes. “Let’s get you to your room, okay?”

“No,” he shook his head, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull my hips to his. “I wanna stay in your room.”

“No,” I echoed, shaking my head, “Taehyung’s still not completely okay with seeing us all close to each other. He’ll have a heart attack.”

“Taehyung’s staying the night at Hoseok’s.”

I froze in his hold as I looked into his eyes, biting my lip as I realized what that meant. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he whispered as I felt a smirk appear on my face. Jungkook’s eyes widened with slight innocence as I reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“You should have lead with that, Kook,” I pulled his mouth down on mine, kissing him violently. His body was quick to respond as he moved his hands from my waist to hold the backs of my thighs. I laughed against his mouth as I jumped up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited all summer for this,” Jungkook swallowed and looked deep into my eyes. I could still smell the alcohol on his breath, but I could tell he was sobering up from our kiss.

“Hopefully this will happen more often,” I mumbled as Jungkook started walking toward my bedroom.

“If you’ll act like this when it happens, I’ll lock Taehyung out of the apartment.”

I swallowed and tried to keep myself calm as I sat between the two of them. I wanted to just storm off to my room like I would have in the past. It was very tempting to do, but I didn’t have time for this. Jungkook and I only had so much time left, and if I were to give him the silent treatment, we would get less time together.

“Look,” I sighed and looked over at Jungkook with a slightly defeated expression, “I know something’s up. I really don’t want you two hiding things from me. If I’m gonna be mad at you over something, can you just tell me so that we can have it out and forgive each other?”

I was hoping that Jungkook would spill, but his expression didn’t soften even a little bit. Why was he being so stubborn?

“Taehyung,” I turned to him, but he was also closing himself off from me. “You guys, I know something’s up. You guys look guilty as hell,” I frowned, turning back to Jungkook.

“Nothing happened, Ari. We’re just tired.”

I felt the urge to get up and storm away, but once again, I talked myself out of it. I need to stick this out. I have to resolve this. I only have a week left with him.

“Jeon Jungkook,” I turned completely to him as I noticed him sharply inhale, “I dare you to say that to me again.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as I watched his internal struggle through his eyes. He looked like he was about to cave, and I felt relief starting to wash over me. We could talk this out and go back to normal for our last few days together.

“We just got a little drunk. Nothing happened.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying to keep my anger on the low. It’s been so long since Jungkook and I have had a legitimate argument, and I wanted more than anything for this to be a problem that we quickly resolved.

I turned to Taehyung as a last effort to figure out what these two weren’t telling me. “Tae…”

He just shook his head, “Nothing happened.”

I felt like I was surrounded by a bunch of delusional parrots as I ran my fingers through my messy hair. I felt tears stinging my eyes as I realized that this night was going to end the way that I was begging it not to. I’m going to go to bed angry and this conflict is going to just stir between the two of us until he fesses up.

“You know, Kook,” I stood up and spun around to glare at him half-heartedly. “I will be less angry at you if you just fess up now. The longer you wait to tell me what’s going on, the more upset it’s going to make me. Quite frankly, I’m already mad and I don’t even know what happened.”

I gave him one last chance to explain himself as I stared deep into his eyes. His jaw clenched and I noticed the deep breath he took. His hands shook as he rubbed the knees of his jeans, his mouth opening ever so slightly.

“Ari,” Taehyung shook his head and let a slight laugh out of his mouth, “Nothing happened. We were just out with our friends before college starts again.”

“Right,” I laughed in disbelief. My eyes glared at Jungkook as I gave him a few more seconds to interject.

Once again, he said nothing.

“Goodnight, then,” I whispered, trying to not let my emotions get the best of me. It’d been so long since Jungkook made me cry…

Taehyung had to be at work fairly early, so Jungkook and I were left alone for the morning. Normally we would take that time to be disgustingly cheesy with one another and at the very least make out with each other on the couch.

Today was very different. The air felt very tense and I hardly left my room to avoid having to talk to him.

I felt like we were back at our old habits before the two of us got together, and it sucked. I threw several pity parties in my room as I thought about how much fun we could be having right now. Our days were numbered, and Jungkook was choosing to push me further away.

“Yoongi,” I whined into my phone as I finally gave in to my tears. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jungkook and how worried he has me. It felt like he was trying to push me away, and that thought was terrifying. What would possess him to think that was a good idea?

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s voice sounded worried as I sniffed, trying to keep my emotions under my control. I slowly calmed down my soft sobs, trying to not be too loud as to attract Jungkook inside.

“Jungkook’s scaring me,” I grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my body. I rested my chin on the top of it as my tears started soaking into the object. “It feels like he’s trying to push me away. I love him so much, and I’m afraid that he’s going to try and break up with me when he leaves.”

“Well that makes no damn sense,” Yoongi sounded pissed as I nodded, sniffing as quietly as possible. “He’s disgustingly in love with you. Why would he even consider something so childish?”

“I don’t know!” I raised my voice a little too much as I cursed under my breath. Jungkook definitely heard that. There was no way that he didn’t…

This was normally when Jungkook would come in to talk to me. Every time he heard any loud noises from my room, he’d come in to check on me. It was really cute, honestly.

I felt my face twist with disgust as I glared at my phone in my hand. Soomin had texted me the grossest text I’d ever read about some guy who’s still in high school! She was being a pedophile over him! I had been on the phone with her several times over him, and she continued to ignore my warnings.

“Ugh, she’s such a tramp!” I screamed in frustration, not taking into account that it was nearly two in the morning. I felt my disgust increasing the more she texted me, and I made more frustrated noises.

“Ari?” I spun around to see Jungkook poking his head into my room. His eyes were laced with worry and exhaustion as I realized I had woken him up.

“Kook,” my eyes softened as he stepped into my room to walk over to me. I was on the edge of my bed, pillows thrown around the room from me trying to quietly get out all my frustration.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He asked, pulling my desk chair to the side of my bed to sit in front of me. I dangled my feet off the edge of the bed and leaned closer to him.

“Soomin won’t listen to me about her pedophilia. She’s going to get in serious trouble for this, and she’s blowing it all off. She’s convinced that it’s okay because he turns 18 in three months.”

Jungkook sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, “I forgot about her talking to that kid. She really thinks it’s okay?”

“Yes!” I cried as Jungkook grabbed my hand with his. I looked down at our hands and felt his touch calming me down, “She’s lost her mind… I don’t know why I’m still talking to her.”

“I don’t know, either,” Jungkook laughed nervously as he pulled me further to the edge, “Do you want to stay in my room tonight?”

I raised my eyebrows as I felt my mind moving on from the frustrating conversation I had just been having.

“Your bed’s small, though,” I mentioned. It was the reason that we never stayed in his room if we slept in the same bed together.

“I know,” he smirked and winked as I scoffed and ran my fingers through his soft, messy hair. I ruffled the hair a little as he closed his eyes, liking the feeling of my hand in his hair despite making it a mess.

“Just stay in here with me?” I offered, smiling at the sight of his relaxed smile. He didn’t say anything as he hopped out of the chair and jumped onto the bed, causing it to bounce me a little.

“You didn’t even need to ask, babe.”

The seconds ticked by as I felt my heart being squeezed in my chest. He’s not coming. He’s… not coming.

“Yoongi, I…” I took a deep breath, “I can’t take this. I’ve gotta have it out with Jungkook. He can’t do this to me. He’s being a selfish asshole. He’s reverting to how he was before we got together.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Yoongi asked, confusion laced in his voice.

“Because he’s an idiot. I think that he’s too afraid to say goodbye to me, so instead he’s shutting me out. It’s as if he feels like this will be less painful when in reality, it’s making it excruciatingly hard.”

I was quick to hang up the call after I made up my mind to try and fix this. If they’re leaving in six days, I want to have these six days with Jungkook. I want to have so much fun with him that he’ll forget that our days are numbered.

I didn’t even knock on his door as I swung the door open, scaring Jungkook as he looked up at me with wide eyes. He was just scrolling through his phone when I had stormed in. He definitely heard my frustrated words to Yoongi.

I was opening my mouth to snap at Jungkook over pushing me away, but I stopped short seeing him. I saw him just yesterday, but seeing him right now was just… different. He was the same guy I’d been spending my summer with, but everything felt so wrong.

I felt like he had already made the decision to push me away without thinking about how hard this was going to affect me.

“Jungkook, I want you to tell me what happened last night.”

I kept my words short and sweet as Jungkook just looked at me with wide eyes. I was afraid that he was going to snap back at me, but it looked like I knocked the breath out of him.

I took a few steps closer to him and felt my hands shaking at my sides. His eyes studied my face as his expression dropped to worried. He noticed that I’ve been crying.

“Please,” I whispered, standing at the foot of his bed. He swallowed while looking at me, and I watched the internal battle I could see taking place in his eyes. He looked like he was on the edge of convincing himself to keep me away from him, but I broke him as another tear fell from my eyes.

I walked to the side of his bed and lowered myself to sit on the edge of it. My back was against his knees and I felt my breathing stagger at the simple touch.

Jungkook looked down at my skin that was touching his as I just continued looking at him with pleading eyes. His breathing was irregular as his fists clenched in his lap. He looked like he was trying to build his wall back up, but I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Jungkook,” I moved my body closer to the front of the bed, my side now pressing up against his torso. I faced him and reluctantly reached out to grab one of his tense hands. “I love you.”

I saw all his barriers break as his bottom lip started quivering. His eyes shied away from mine before he took a deep breath. This was obviously as hard on him as it was me.

“Stop pushing me away, Kook,” I managed to get out as fresh tears began to build up into my eyes. I squeezed his hand lightly before Jungkook moved to intertwine our fingers. A tear dropped from his eyes as he sat up to get closer to me.

“I love you, too,” he nodded, pulling me closer to him, “I love you so damn much, and please remember that as I tell you this.”

I felt my hand grip his slightly tighter than before as I just nodded, wiping my tears away from my eyes with my free hand.

“Last night when hanging out with the guys, we ran into Jennie,” he paused as I felt my muscles tense. Since Taehyung still worked with her, it wasn’t like she was completely out of our lives, but Jungkook hadn’t spoken to her since that night at the movie theater. I didn’t feel jealousy, but I did feel paranoia filling my emotions.

“She was mainly talking to Yugyeom because they had met a couple times before. She was kinda flirting with him a little until I stopped her and told her to back off. She didn’t like how harsh I was with her, so she made it her goal to stay around us for the rest of the night. She wouldn’t shut up about how things used to be with us, and I gave in and started getting carried away with my drinks. I was about to drink myself into a coma when she stopped me and…”

I saw another tear trail down his face as his bit his lip and looked away, “She leaned in to kiss me. I just barely pulled out of the way in time to keep her fish lips off of me, but she was being persistent…

…

*Third Person POV*

“Jungkookie,” She whined as Jungkook continued to keep her away from him. She was just about as drunk as he was, and he was terrified that she was going to catch him off guard and assault his lips with her’s. He’d never forgive himself if he let her lips touch his…

“Kiss me, dammit,” she grumbled as Jungkook just spun around and shook his head. He tried to move away from her, but her hands were quick to grab his wrist and forcefully pull him back to her.

“I’m the better fit for you, Kookie,” she forced him to face her as his annoyance was growing in his chest. He had come out tonight to have fun with his friends, not to be assaulted by his ex-girlfriend… “You wanna know why I’m better?”

“You’re not better, Jennie. Go find some other guy to screw with,” Jungkook pulled his arm out of her hold only for her hands to grab his shoulders. His hands were quick to grab her wrists, but when she spoke her next words, he froze. Nothing could have prepared him for what she was going to say.

She caught him so off guard that the moment he froze in shock, she leaned up and pressed a sloppy kiss to his mouth. He was quick to shove her off and tell her to piss off, but even as he stormed away from her, the words played through his head over and over again.

Was he really going to have to deal with her like this regularly? He couldn’t handle this… He won’t be able to take it. He’ll lose his mind if what she said really was true…

“You’ll be seeing a lot of me. I’ve transferred to your college this coming semester, Kookie.”

A/N: I don’t hate the real Jennie, I swear! She just happens to be the antagonist to this story!! (And she wasn’t originally going to be when I first wrote her in!) But sorry for any errors that I didn’t catch. I very loosely edited this. And I give everyone permission to beat Jungkook’s butt for his stupidity, but be gentle!

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

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tremendouspeachduck · 4 years

Text

Psychopaths walk among us. Here's how to resist their evilness.

How do the Dems try to manipulate?

The psychopath patient believes military is nothing more than a strong-arm to subjugate other countries or peoples. They don’t get that we defend what we’re proud of.

Our country cheered yet another stellar jobs report released by the Bureau of Labor Statistics. And unlike the sluggish expansion of the Obama years, the lion’s share of this labor market strength benefits middle-income and previously ignored workers. For example, non-managerial wages accelerated at a 12-month rate of 2.7 percent, the highest in a decade. The jobless rate for non-college graduates fell to the lowest level since 2001. Even for those who did not complete high school, good news abounds, as the jobless rate for that working-class, underdog population has now been below 6 percent for the each of the past five months… .

They use ways to convince. "Gaslighting is a manipulative tactic that can be described in different variations of three words: 'That didn't happen,' 'You imagined it,' and 'Are you crazy?'" Therapist explains. "Gaslighting is perhaps one of the most insidious manipulative tactics out there because it works to distort and erode your sense of reality; it eats away at your ability to trust yourself and inevitably disables you from feeling justified in calling out abuse and mistreatment."

How can you fight back? "Ground yourself in your own reality--sometimes writing things down as they happened, telling a friend, or reiterating your experience to a support network can help to counteract the gaslighting effect,"

The psychopath patient believes military costs too much money. How can they put a price on reforms?

With Pres. Trump all the minorities are gaining. These reforms represent a particularly powerful tailwind for Hispanics, statistically by far the most entrepreneurial demographic in America. Speaking of Hispanics, the labor market news for them has been stellar. In U.S. history, there are only eight months where Hispanics report a jobless rate below 5 percent, and an incredible seven of those eight months have been in the last year alone under Trump’s growth agenda. The news is similarly strong for blacks, where the gap between black and white unemployment shrank to the smallest disparity on record. If President Trump is a racist, as his media critics constantly (and unfairly) allege, then he is remarkably bad at it!

They use ways to convince. You know when toxic people claim all the nastiness that surrounds them is not their fault, but yours? That's called projection. We all do it a little, but the narcissist and psychopath do it a lot. "Projection is a defense mechanism used to displace responsibility of one's negative behavior and traits by attributing them to someone else," notes the therapist.

The solution? "Don't 'project' your own sense of compassion or empathy onto a toxic person and don't own any of the toxic person's projections either," The therapist recommends. "Projecting our own conscience and value system onto others has the potential consequence of being met with further exploitation."

The psychopath patient has conspiracy beliefs. Example. It can be said that a co-worker sometimes fails to consider the long-term ramifications of certain financial decisions. The office psychopath claims you called him "a loose cannon." You noted the deal could possibly go south if X, Y, and Z conditions occur. Your narcissistic colleague tells the boss you said the deal is "a disaster."

What's going on? It's not just that your nemesis didn't understand what you said. It's that he or she had no interest in understanding.

"The malignant narcissist isn’t always an intellectual mastermind--many of them are intellectually lazy. Rather than taking the time to carefully consider a different perspective, they generalize anything and everything you say, making blanket statements that don't acknowledge the nuances in your argument or take into account the multiple perspectives you've paid homage to," The therapist says, summing up this behavior.

To counter it, "hold onto your truth and resist generalizing statements by realizing that they are in fact forms of black and white illogical thinking."

The psychopath and Dems want to take it all away with tax hikes. But Pres. Trump keeps delivering in spite of not one media good report.

The psychopath patient doesn't like the military since it acts as an arm of the U.S. government in other countries where the immediate benefit to the U.S. is not always evident. They believe the military needs to stay at home and let the other countries deal with their own problems.

"The abusive narcissist and sociopath employ a logical fallacy known as 'moving the goalposts' in order to ensure that they have every reason to be perpetually dissatisfied with you. This is when, even after you've provided all the evidence in the world to validate your argument or taken an action to meet their request, they set up another expectation of you or demand more proof," says the therapist.

Don't play that game. "Validate and approve of yourself. Know that you are enough and you don't have to be made to feel constantly deficient or unworthy in some way," The therapist advises.

The DEMS want all nations to stand down - to let the UN run the world - this can never happen, right?

Healing Horses

The psychopath patient sees the armed forces as destroying the environment with pollution, chemicals and products of the nuclear age.

Switching conversational topics sounds innocent enough, but in the hands of a master manipulator, a change of subject becomes a means to avoid accountability. "The narcissist doesn't want you to be on the topic of holding them accountable for anything, so they will reroute discussions to benefit them," the therapist notes.

This sort of thing can go on forever if you let it, making it impossible to actually engage on the relevant issue. Try "the "broken record method" to fight back: "Continue stating the facts without giving in to their distractions. Redirect their redirection by saying, 'That's not what I am talking about. Let's stay focused on the real issue.' If they're not interested, disengage and spend your energy on something more constructive."

The psychopath patient sees the armed forces as those types that have joined the military, but have become disenchanted for some reason or another. They may not have gotten the position or training they wanted, didn't like the structured environment or got into trouble. These are the men and women who lived it for awhile, but couldn't adapt, so they become fanatically anti military.

There are other ways a psychopath can manipulate:

Smear - "When toxic types can't control the way you see yourself, they start to control how others see you; they play the martyr while you're labeled the toxic one. A smear campaign is a preemptive strike to sabotage your reputation and slander your name," the therapist explains.

Sometimes true evil geniuses will even divide and conquer, pitting two people or groups against each other. Don't let them succeed. "Document any form of harassment," the therapist advises, and make sure not to rise to the bait and let the person's horribleness provoke you into behaving in just the sort of negative ways they've falsely attributed to you.

Devalue - Beware when a colleague seems to love you while aggressively denigrating the last person who held your position. "Narcissistic abusers do this all the time--they devalue their exes to their new partners, and eventually the new partner starts to receive the same sort of mistreatment as the narcissist's ex-partner," the therapist says. But this dynamic can happen in the professional realm as well as the personal one.

Simple awareness of the phenomenon is the first step to countering it. "Be wary of the fact that how a person treats or speaks about someone else could potentially translate into the way they will treat you in the future," the therapist cautions.

mean jokes- The problem isn't your sense of humor, it's the hidden intention of that cutting joke. "The covert narcissist enjoys making malicious remarks at your expense. These are usually dressed up as 'just jokes' so that they can get away with saying appalling things while still maintaining an innocent, cool demeanor. Yet any time you are outraged at an insensitive, harsh remark, you are accused of having no sense of humor," the therapist says.

Don't let the office abuser gaslight you into thinking it was all innocent fun--it wasn't.

Triangulation - One of the smartest ways truly toxic people distract you from their nastiness is by focusing your attention on the supposed threat of another person. This is called triangulation. "The narcissist loves to 'report back' falsehoods about what others say about you," the therapist warns. To resist the tactic, realize that the third party in the drama is being manipulated as well--he or she is another victim, not your enemy.

You can also try "reverse triangulation," or "gaining support from a third party that is not under the narcissist's influence."

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#politics #military #manipulation #psychopath

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thatbangtanbloom · 6 years

Text

cinder | jjk [2]

Cinder(kook)

1 2

Characters: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung, Seokjin, Jimin, Namjoon

Categories: Fluff, Angst

AU(s): Disney!AU, Historical!AU, Royalty!AU

Word Count: 5, 662

Sypnosis: AU in which Jungkook is literally Cinderella, minus the pretty blue dress and glass slippers. Cinderkook wears Timberlands.

Ringing, like that of a large golden bell, is what awakens your slumber every morning in your quarters of the royal palace. Days passed as each new rising sun reminded you of the rapidly approaching ball you would hold. For the most part, you did not even wish to hold it. It writes your fate in the stars – your parents will find a prince (or even a King if one is at war) acceptable for your hand in marriage and promptly sign you over once the period of 'courtship' is over, wed within three sunrises, and lastly, begin the process of producing an heir as quickly as possible. The very thought of it leaves a strong distaste within your mouth.

You do not want this.

"Your royal highness," Your Royal Advisor, Park Jimin of Busan, addresses you with a frown adorning his Cupid's bow. His tone is soft and sweet, much different from the harsh noises that emit from your father, and he makes haste to keep up with your stomping feet. "You cannot simply jump and leave as you wish. You have Palace Management, Ethics, crocheting -"

Your breath is hitching, making you nearly go insane with all of the logistics that Jimin relays to you. You squeeze the tulle of your dress in your hands and stomp towards Jimin, ignoring the small height difference between the two of you. "I do not care nor do I wish to, if I were, to be frank." You quip as you glance at Jimin. "And please, Jimin, do not speak to me as though I am my father! I am so tired of being bred to merely give over my kingdom the moment a prince waltzes in that my parents deem acceptable. It is my life and as the only heir to the throne, I should have a say to what I want my legacy will be-"You pause, watching as Jimin's features contort into that of disdain; with furrowed brows and pursed lips as though he has heard these words a thousand times from you, and the honest truth is that he has.

"You have not been taught to do that, your royal highness," Jimin says, keeping his eyes to the ground because it was unworthy of a royal advisor, a man of no royal blood or lineage to look into the eyes of the princess. The very proclamation makes your blood burn and you fight the urge to make him look at you. "You are to be a product of your people, by the people, and for the people. When you are a princess, you are not expected to make choices that are best for you. You must not be a subjective ruler, but an objective one."

You step closer to Jimin, brows furrowing together at his words. Every part of you loathes what you see in front of you; a man barely older than you with the ideals of prestige and hierarchy ingrained into every aspect of his gold seamed clothes to the platinum of his cufflinks. You hate, hate, hate it. "And what makes you think that I am unable to do that? Because I am a woman?" You yell, knowing the impracticality of your actions but you can not, you will not, and shall not be overlooked merely for your sex.

The calmness of Jimin's voice is what breaks your thoughts, "You are unable to do that because you are not trained to do so." He replies, frowning in response. "Your royal highness, I understand that you do not wish to marry nor do you wish to have your crown shared when you become queen, but do not take your frustrations out on me. I am merely an advisor. Please do not think otherwise."

It drives you insane that he does not dare to look up once.

"Your Royal Highness..." Jimin murmurs your title in the softest tone that he can muster as he keeps his eyes locked on the ground. There it is again, the insanity driving you upset that he does not even dare to say your name in his presence.

You shake your head, "Look at me, Jimin."

"It is not something that I can do, your royal highness," He repeats to you. His brown orbs stay locked to the ground. Despite the sophisticated façade that Jimin holds on to, you can not help but see the juvenility of his actions.

This, in turn, makes you grimace before turning on your heels to storm to the horse stables.

"Y-your royal highness!" The words tumble out of Jimin's mouth haphazardly as he follows behind you like that of a lost puppy. "I-it is not the time for you to attend the stables or have lessons.... that is not for another two sunrises--"

You ignore the words of your Royal Advisor as you grasp the saddle onto your horse and smooth it down before tying it gentle enough to not hurt your horse, Verre, but still tight enough to be secure before getting onto the horse without warning. "I will do as I please, Royal Advisor," You quip to the red-headed male before lightly signaling Verre to walk off. "I will return before crocheting. You need not fret," are your last words to Jimin before you take off to the hunting grounds of the Royal Court.

The fresh smell of hay greets Jungkook as he rolls up the sleeves of his beige, tattered shirt. The sweat beads on his forehead and he sighs to himself a monstrous sigh at the realization of how much work he would have to complete to even have Ms. Kim think of allowing him to go to the ball. It was laughable, was it not? Hell, even Jungkook knew he had no chance of attending the ball.

"I just wish.." He murmurs to himself, as his hand digs deep into the bag of poultry feed to feed the chickens. He ignores the grainy feeling that the poultry gives him and sighs as he tosses it into the quarters of the chicken coop. "Nevermind," He says aloud to himself as he kneels down to feed the oldest chickens first and then for the youngest. "It's foolish to even think about when I have so much work to complete..."

As though they understood him, the chickens file in for their habitual meal. A majority do not even glance at him in acknowledgment for bringing food, instead, they peck at the ground eagerly to eat. Their careless actions make Jungkook smile at the thought. He wishes that he too, could be that carefree.

Being carefree was not a characteristic, let alone an action for him when his stepmother and his two stepbrothers often forced him into doing all of the housework. It used to be, for Jungkook though, before his mother (and then later, his father) died. He remembers waking up early mornings to hear his mother sing as she did the housework with his father; sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen while he eagerly watched his mother and father dance and swearing to himself that he would find that too with the one he loved one day.

You.

At the thought of you holding his red ball when he was so young, his cheeks flush pink to remember such an archaic memory. Had his life been that eventful that he still longed to see you after all of these years? It was not as though he was incredibly in the dark of how you looked, he only remembered hearing hushed murmurs of your beauty and your peculiar attitude when he went to town to buy bread for the family when Taehyung and Seokjin found his own bread insufficient. Though, every part of him still longed to see you, talk to you once more... He felt (for some inexplicable reason) that you were the last tie to what he had of his parents; the fact that you had the only thing that his mother bought him that was not tarnished made his heart churn more.

It was dumbfounding how silly a red ball could be.

"I must be going insane," He laughs to himself as he finishes tossing the poultry feed to the rooster and hens before turning on his heels to feed the pigs and then the horses.

The farm that Jungkook often tended too was not large, it never was intended to be, in the two hundred years his family's ancestors resided there. They were a family of merchants, only using the farm as a way of subsistence, not as a mean to alleviate any financial problems.

"I have been here too long... too long here, at a trapped place," He says to no one particular, because he knows no one will respond to him when he thinks aloud like this, and he is thankful. More than often, Jungkook found himself talking alone to the animals as though they could understand him. It seemed that they had a greater capacity for understanding human emotions more than his own supposed family ever did. And as though speak of the devil, the all too familiar screech of his stepmother meets his ears.

"Oh, Cinderkookie!" Comes the cry from the window of his step mother's room. "Please bring the tea when you see me." Jungkook immediately feels distaste at the nickname that he earned from sleeping near the fireplace when the attic was too cold for him. Why did his misfortunes have to become his name? It troubles him to no end, but despite this trouble, he knows better than to keep Ms. Kim from waiting. More than anything, he knows that waiting is not something that she particularly enjoys doing.

"Yes, stepmother?" Jungkook asks in a soft tone once he arrives into the dining room, green tea in hand as he does his best to not trip over the evil cat Lucifer that he knew loathed with a passion. At the sight of the cat, the scar on his cheek aches.

Ms. Kim sits perched on the chaise with a porcelain blue stamped teacup accompanying her. Despite being rather young, she looks old for age; this being a sign of her old and cruel ways. "Why did it take you so long to answer me?"

"S-stepmother, I was busy feeding the cattle." Jungkook stammers, wishing as though he could make himself smaller under her dark, glowering eyes that wish to bury him alive, just to never see the reminder of his mother or father. "You asked me to do that just an hour ago while I was finishing mending Taehyung and Seokjin's suits for the reception and beginning to clean the kitchen-" He rambles nervously, anxious to get out of her sight and to return back to work. It felt as though his only solace was in working.

"And it is taking you until now to do that?" She asks, raising her voice at him with a perk of her brow. The sound of their mother's voice makes Taehyung and Seokjin both glance into the room with anticipation. It was rare that their mother raised her voice despite her short temper. She preferred to say calm. "Why is it that you can do nothing right, Cinderkook? Why does it take you an hour to clean the kitchen, mend the clothes, and feed the cattle?" She stands up, taking two steps forward in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook swallows, keeping his eyes on the ground and nods. "Y-yes, I know this but I can only do so much without any help. Stepmother, I am trying my hardest-"

"Do you know how much I have sacrificed for you? I could have easily discarded you to an orphanage, but me being the kind woman I am, I did not! You could have become a thug, a street dweller, a whore but I saved you from that! Especially when you look just like your mother – a whore!" Ms. Kim screams at Jungkook, making his head jolt up in an instant at her words.

Jungkook swallows, his shoulders trembling at her words at the mere mention of his mother, "Do not speak about my mother... she taught me to always have the courage and be kind even in the face of those who oppose me. You can talk ill of me, but please not of my mother." His voice nearly cracks at the memory of his mother; with her long black hair and breathtakingly welcoming brown almond eyes. He remembers seeing her for the last time when he was thirteen, how sweetly she caressed his cheek and told him to always be gentle and kind in a world that wishes to make you hard.

"Do not speak of that whore to me!" She yells before raising her hand to slap Jungkook forcefully. The impact is sudden and quick – like a white heat cutting into his skin at once. The sound of palm hitting skin ricochets throughout the room and Jungkook stumbles back at the force. Ms. Kim had never raised her hand to him before. Taehyung and Seokjin look on in pure shock at her actions. "I could have forsaken you but I did not! You should be grateful that I let you continue to live here after your parents' death. Remember my words, Jungkook, you have never been a member of this family and never will be, so do not act as though you are entitled to anything here."

At her harsh words, Jungkook's entire body trembles. He finds it hard to breathe at the mention of his dead mother and father and he can already feel himself lose control. Who did she think she was to scorn his parents in such a way? In a such a fashion?

Jungkook stares at her, heart rattling against his rib cage and his stomach falling. Was that how she truly felt? Was all that he had truly gone? He takes in the vision of her – of his stepmother in the clothes that his father bought, standing on the floor his father died for, and shakes his head. Every part of him wanted to hate her – he truly did – she took and took from his father every ounce of kindness, forgiveness, and happiness that he could have had all for her own and her two sons – and every part of Jungkook wanted to hate this woman for it. But he could not.

"Hate should never be a last resort, Kookie," His mother says as he lays his head in her lap. She leans down to kiss his raven hair and strokes it with a sigh, "Love is what conquers all. It changes anything and everything, but to find love, you must have faith and be kind. Do not forget that, my little prince."

Jungkook stares at his stepmother and forces himself to smile, despite feeling the white-hot stinging of his cheek and the small speck of blood that trickles down his right cheek – the same cheek that Lucifer had scared so many years ago – and stands tall. He does not say another word, nor does he look around the living room that once fostered love and togetherness that now houses materialistic things and only walks back to the kitchen to continue his duties. His only solace.

But did it have to be?

Jungkook does not know how or why, but he finds himself running to the horse stables and ushering out his own horse, Gureum, for him to ride. He knows he can not and will not run away, but if he can only get away for a few moments, he will. And with that, Jungkook hoists one leg up over the horse, frowning at the tattered beige shirt under his blue overalls and signals to Gureum to take off.

The fresh smell of grass from the early morning dew meets Jungkook's senses as he rides deeper and deeper into the plains and nears the forest. When he was younger, his mother and father often rode out to the empty plains to show him how beautiful untouched nature was. It almost felt as though it was his own kingdom, where he was king, where he could make his own decisions. He found comfort that he could not see anything for miles, except the forest. When he was younger, he often remembered saying that his kingdom extended for miles and miles; that every place where the sun would set was where his kingdom both began and ended. It was his secret place.

So for him to see you, riding your own horse in his sacred plains confused him greatly – especially since he looked as though you were not the type of girl to be of a horse of that stature and size.

"Miss! Miss!" He calls out to you, eyes shaking worriedly at how fast you seem to be approaching the forest. He signs Gureum to move faster through the green and brown maze; oak and cherry blossom trees align and misalign to make a fostered forest. "Miss!" He yells as he urges Gureum to go faster with a gentle kick of his heels, wind slapping his cheeks and branches looming overhead, and grips one of the reigns of your horse.

Though at his attempts to try to stop the horse, Verre abruptly rises up, knocking you off of the horse and to the ground. At the constant calling and sudden fall, you are taken away from your thoughts of plotting a makeshift rebellion against the patriarchy of your own society and turn to face Jungkook with scrutinizing eyes. He immediately jumps down from his own horse, in his worn beige Timberlands, and reaches down to help you up, which you take considering you were still dizzy. Who dared to call you by something other than your royal title? Had he not known who you were. "What are you doing?"

"Miss! You were going so fast, I was worried you would crash." He comments in a shaky tone. Jungkook can see you judging him with the cinders dotting his cheeks and the evident wornness of his overalls and torn shirt. This makes him feel self-conscious.

You scoff at him before pulling yourself back onto your horse and glance down at this raven-haired stranger with curiosity lacing your eyes. You could not understand why, but a part of you felt as though you had met him before, as though in a past life or a long time ago. Something about him intrigues you. You clear your throat as you stare into his big doe eyes and clear your throat, "Verre would not have been going so fast if you had not been going so fast like a madman! He was frightened," You tell him, suddenly reminded of how gently this stranger holds your hand and the sincere empathy in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that before. "You should be more careful. Sir, what do I call you?"

Jungkook flushes at your blunt attitude. The only women he had ever been around was his mother and his stepmother, and he was for certain that you were like neither of them. He lets go of your hand when he sees you watching him with intent eyes before forcing himself to crawl back onto his own horse. Gureum begins to circle around your horse and you.

His first thought to tell you is Cinderkook, rather than his own name, because he barely recognizes himself anymore. "Nevermind what they call me." He chokes, cheeks flushing. He swallows at the sight of you in your dress – he can note where the corset begins and ends and he forces himself to not look too long. Was it painful to wear that? "You know... you should not be this deep in a forest alone."

As though in a play, your own horse begins to follow Gureum in a circle as well and you smile cheekily at him. "I am not alone. I am with you."

This marks Jungkook's own heart beat in triple time at your sly words. Were you always this charming? "Miss... what do they call you?" He does not know why, but he wants to know everything about you. He promises himself that he wants to know more than just your name, but about where you are from, what you like to eat, where you wish to go and all your aspirations – he wants to know about your mornings and why you sigh.

This question makes you laugh as your brows furrow, "You do not know who I am?"

Jungkook's eyes widen in confusion and he tilts his head. Was he supposed to know? He promises himself that he will ask around the next time he is in the village buying bread.

"That is... they call me Charming." You reply with a small laugh of amusement. It had been a nickname bestowed upon you sarcastically, but it did hold true to some extent.

"And where do you live, Miss Charming?" Jungkook asks, drinking in as much of you as he can muster. Had he ever seen anyone so beautiful with an interesting personality accompany it? He swears not and he knows that he is right.

"The palace, of course." You reply, deciding to play along with this façade. Did he truly not know that you were a princess? "I am learning the trades from my father. Therefore, I live in the palace."

Jungkook's eyes marvel at the sight of you, "You're an apprentice!" He exclaims, suddenly all the more interested. He had never known a woman to work at the palace. The idea makes him smile in content. "Is hunting a part of it?"

"Of the sorts, yes," you reply, finding his innocence alluring. It could almost pass for a degree of naivete. "Are you hunting for game?"

He shakes his head, "As much as I could, I do not wish. I do not want to hurt anything or anyone."

Perhaps he was a prince doing hunting? You wonder if he were one to receive an invitation to the ball. He did not look familiar in the slightest – perhaps he was from a neighboring country. "How do they treat you there?" Jungkook asks suddenly.

Your features soften at the thought of your palace life as you glance over at the blood staining Jungkook's cheek and frowning at the tattered degree of his clothes. Perhaps horseback riding was what intrigued him.. And he was not very good at it. That seemed plausible.

"Far better than I deserve, I suppose. They treat me well even when I do not deserve it. What about you?"

He smiles warmly. He tells himself that he cannot take his eyes off you as he watches you. Perhaps you a rich maiden from one of the neighboring towns. He knew that they frequently horse backed for fun on these grounds. "They treat me as best as they can manage," Jungkook admits, remembering the condition that he lived in. It felt surreal to him for a second that he had not thought of them once during his short time with you. There was an aspect about you that he felt infectious about. His words make your heart soften and you signal for Verre to stop to look at him better. Oddly enough, no sadness was found in his eyes.

"I am sorry." You whisper faintly.

He shakes his head and he sends you a toothy smile. It reminds you of a small rabbit and you smile back in response to the comparison. "It is not your doing."

"It cannot be yours either though, can it?" You ask as you tuck your hair behind your ear as the stranger nods back to you in agreement.

"I wouldn't say that it's terrible, just unfortunate," He admits in a small tone. You notice the different intonations in his speech and your heart softens at it. He seemed innocent, fragile, but strong. It was as though he were a multitude of paradoxes at once. "All it takes it to have the courage and be kind... if you let the bad overcome, you become trapped. I don't want to be trapped while living in someone else's dream." He does not know why he tells you this so openly, especially when of all things that he is soft-spoken and shy, "I rather die than live without passion."

Your heart flutters at his words and you nod in agreement at the truth in his words, "Yes... you're right."

And then, a silence falls over the two of you as his dark brown eyes stare back into yours. His breathing is irregular as he stares at you, his heart hammering against his chest and his cheeks are flushed a pink that could only be compared to that of the pastels of Monet and you smile at the comfortable silence.

Until it is broken.

"Your royal highness!" You hear Jimin's voice break into your thoughts and you snap your head in his direction. "Your royal high--"

"Is something wrong?" Jungkook asks as he quickly soothes Gureum by stroking his mane.

"I must go now," You smile back at him as you rear Verre and you before turning, "May you live forever with passion." You can nearly see Jimin in sight and you do not want to hear his rants of worry at the sight of you with a member of the opposite sex without a chaperone. "Continue to have courage... and be kind and with that, I hope that you do so that we cross paths once more... if the stars bid it so."

At your soft words, Jungkook swallows for the umpteenth time in your presence and nods with a quick jolt of his head in agreement as you ride to the outset of the forest and he subconsciously puts his hand over his heart. The rational side of him makes him wonder if being in the mere presence of a female is what drives him insane, but he cannot deny how his heart beats erratically, how his palms sweat in your presence. He swears to himself that even if the stars do not bid it so, he will align them if it means meeting you once more.

"Were you talking to anyone?" Jimin asks you. He wears a white shirt without sleeves; his usual white uniform that he usually dons are absent and it makes you smile to see your Royal Advisor relaxed for once.

"Someone special... someone that would make the ball worthwhile," You murmur, still having distaste at the idea of it, but you think that if the stranger you just met were at the ball, it would be more tolerable than not.

Jimin chuckles at your words and shakes his head. It feels weird to see him laidback so suddenly. "It is only two nights away, your royal highness, and then you will be finding a husband to wed."

"If the stars bid it so, I shall bring them down." You chime to him with a small laugh as the two of you ride back to the palace on Verre and Pomme.

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours, and hours today pass as the ball approaches. As the day of the first ball begins, Jungkook puts maximum effort into cleaning every aspect of the house without warning. He was thankful that the celebration of your coronation as well as you finding a desirable husband was over the term of three balls because he knew undeniably that his stepmother would make him miss everyone if he could – but missing one ball was far easier than to miss all three.

For the first ball, Jungkook wished ardently that a stroke of faith would come to his side on the night of the first ball but he was terribly mistaken. The house needed a complete remodeling in the mopping department as well as recementing the roof and that task took all of the first balls. Then, there was the second ball where he needed to go out of town to buy bread and new fabrics for suits for Taehyung and Seokjin. But by the third ball? Jungkook had done everything expertly, including having sewed together his own suit from that of his father's.

While Taehyung adorned a suit from a faraway land, Italy, from Guccio Gucci and Seokjin, who received a perfectly tailored suit from Armani, Jungkook sat in the tiny crevice of his attic to work ardently on his own works. He had thought of nearly everything to make it beautiful. He knew that his stepmother would not give him a single cent to contribute, so he knew that he had to get to work himself. Though he could only do so much when it came to balancing housework with tailoring his own suit, and with that, he had his animal friends (the friendly mice such as Gus and Sebastian) who eagerly put the finishing touches. The blazer was from his father, with intricately painted flowers (courtesy of Jungkook's mother supporting his artistic endeavors as a child) plating the fabric along with raised threaded flowers. The pants proved to be much simpler in comparison, with the simple black material, but nevertheless, he was happy.

Jungkook had thought of it all.

Or so, he thought.

It was the night of the final ball when Jungkook mustered the courage to ask his stepmother to attend the ball. He had mopped and waxed every inch of the house, cleaned the dishes the second they were done with them, fed the cattle efficiently, replanted the flower beds, gave Lucifer extra treats than usual, and repainted the living room. There was absolutely no reason for his stepmother to deny him of such an opportunity.

Jungkook seized his opportunity the moment he could, peeking from the wooden spiraled staircase to his two brothers, adorning supplicated looks while pushing each other to stand at the front mirror to see how attractive they looked. "Stepmother..." He forces himself to remember your words, of how you hoped that he would live forever with passion. This was merely his first step. "I would like to attend the ball. The boldness of his questions makes the two elder boys turn to him with furrowed brows in disapproval. To be seen with Cinderkook?

That was laughable.

"No," was her answer to his request as she fanned herself with the foreign import from the neighboring country of China. "I will not have my two flowers of sons be compared to the likes of you," She criticizes as she walks over to Jungkook, standing much smaller than he once did in his second-hand suit. "And in this old-fashioned suit?" She laughs before reaching his shoulder and tearing the fabric. "Look, it's ripping at the seams!"

Jungkook gulps at her actions, surprised. "W-why did you do that?" His voice quivers and he finds it hard to not cry out of frustration.

"I am a Lady of the court and I will not be embarrassed." She says as she takes another sip from the tea she had been drinking and abruptly drops it, spilling the tea all over Jungkook in the process and smiling smugly at the young boy. "Be grateful that I am letting you live here still." She hisses before Taehyung interjects.

"The carriage is outside, mother!" He tells her as he eagerly runs towards it, only to be pulled back and then pushed aside by Seokjin.

Ms. Kim turns on her heels before turning to look at him, "Please clean up the tea. I believe there has been a little... accident with your clothes," She tells him with a small laugh before slamming the door behind her. Once she leaves, it takes everything in Jungkook to not scream that he hates her. It takes every fiber of his being for him to not cry either – but no matter what, he knows that he cannot. That was not what his mother would want.

With his emotions converging, Jungkook does the thing that he knows best; he forces himself to his knees to pick up the shatters of broken Chinese porcelain and stares down at it. His heart sinks as he sees how fleeting it must be - to be put together one moment and broken the next. That is how his hope feels as he continues to pick up the pieces, careful to not cut himself as he goes down to the kitchen and places it in the garbage. His eyes glimmer over to the fireplace and how the scattering embers from the fire become cinders... and he forces himself to finally admit aloud, "This is where I belong.." He murmurs in his torn black suit, the flower he spent hours painting on are soiled with that of the green tea he so graciously made her and he finds it hard to ignore the burn of his throat or how hot his eyes feel from wanting to cry.

But that is where Jungkook is wrong.

Jungkook does not realize the beauty or the magnitude his kindness can and will take him... not until the magical appearance of his fairy godfather – Kim Namjoon.

"Jungkook?" Comes the soft voice in the corner of the room. The owner of the voice nears the boy who stares at the cinders as though they are his only tie to the past, his last link to who he was and the owner frowns at this. He did not deserve this, not at all.

At the sudden noise, Jungkook jumps, throwing the blanket that he often slept with off of him and he nearly chokes, "W-who are you?" He stutters.

"My name is Kim Namjoon, it's nice to meet you." Namjoon says as he fixes the lapel on his black suit before adjusting his glasses and kneels down in front of him. "I'm your fairy godfather, and you, my friend, are going to the ball."

Don’t be a silent reader! Feel free to send your reactions~.

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rreader · 6 years

Note

Hello dearie! Could I have a Jekyll x reader prompt where the reader grew up close friends with Victor and has a deep passion for science (but since she is a lady, she wasn't allowed to attend higher education, though it doesn't stop her from reading/studying anything she can) she helps Victor and Jekyll with their experiments but he is very standoffish towards her because he thinks he's a monster, but she explains that he is a beautiful soul. And just lots of fluff? Thank you so much dearie!

Pairing: Henry Jekyll x ReaderFandom: Penny DreadfulWarnings: angst

A/N: so, idk how but this turned out to be 6 and a half pages. I literally didn’t realize it until it was finished haha. anyways, hope you like it my love

*****

“Ugh!This isn’t working, Victor!” Henry threw the phial against thewall, his face red with anger.

They’vebeen trying to find a cure for Lily’s “sickness” for weeks now,experimenting on various subjects, both male and and female, bothhealthy and sick. But they’ve yet to have a breakthrough. Nothingseemed to work and if it did, only for a couple of hours. Nothingpermanent.

Andthat’s what they needed.

Apermanent cure.

Victorstood in front of the, now dead, patient, his hand holding his chin,deep in thought.

Whenhe asked Dr. Jekyll for help, he thought that they’d find a cure in amatter of weeks. Now it’s been two months and they barely managed to get anyresults.

Whathe needed, was a third pair of eyes.

Andthere was only one person he considered equally as intelligent ashimself and Jekyll.

“Ihave to go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he grabbed his coatand walked towards the door.

“What?!Where are you going?”

ButVictor was already out the door, leaving a confused Henry and a deadpatient behind.

***

“My,my.. Dr. Victor Frankenstein,” you leaned against the wall,cleaning your hands on a towel, a small smile set on your lips, uponseeing your childhood friend, “What brings you to this side oftown?”

Victorturned around, matching your smile and approaching you, but thenquickly stopping before he could put his arms around you, noticing all theblood on your dress.

You followed his look.

“It’snot mine. I might not officially be a Doctor, but I’m the best theyhave here. And it’s not always pretty, as you well know.”

“ThatI do know, my friend. It’s been too long.”

“Whichisn’t my fault,” you looked at him from under your eyelashes, asmirk on your lips.

Indeed.

Itwasn’t.

WhenVictor had begun his experiments, he had neglected your friendship.He could be glad that you weren’t someone who held grudges, especially not when it came down to Victor. He’s been good to you,through all the years. He valued your opinions when others didn’t andhe didn’t see you as an invalid, just because of your gender. Youwere an equal to him.

“Ineed your skills, (Y/N).”

“DoI not get any further information?”

“I’mafraid not.. not here. I will explaineverything once we’re at the lab.”

Yousighed and turned around, looking at all the patients that werewaiting.

“Youhave one hour. Then I will have to go back.”

Victornodded.

Anhour was all it would take to convince you to help him, he was sureof it.

Youhad been fascinated by the idea of bringing back the dead just asmuch as he was. Or had been. If you knew that he had succeeded, you’dbe intrigued for sure.

***

“Henry!I have the solution to all our problems!”

Jekyllgot up from his desk and approached him.

“Finally!Where have you been?”

Youjoined Victor at his side and smiled at Henry.

“Dr.Jekyll. It’s good to see you again.”

Henry’sjaw dropped slightly. He hadn’t had the first idea where Victor hadrun off to, and while it made sense that he had asked you to come, hehadn’t expected it.

Andhe certainly hadn’t been prepared for it.

Whenhe realized that he had been staring at you like a moron, he quicklyclosed his mouth and nodded, keeping his distance.

“Miss(Y/L/N).”

“Miss(Y/L/N)? We’ve known each other for years, Henry. Don’t be soformal,” you approached him and got up on your tiptoes to kiss hischeek once, “I’ve missed you,” the second your lips touched hisskin, you could feel him stiffen.

Victorcoughed slightly, feeling like the third wheel in the room.

Andhe really wanted to get to the experiments. You’d have time to catch up, eventually.

“Idon’t mean to ruin the moment, but we should get to it.”

“Iagree,” Henry took that opportunity to get some distance betweenyou two and walked back towards his desk.

“Alright,then. What’s this about?”

“Youmight want to sit down,” Victor pointed towards two chairs andwhile you eyed him suspiciously, you did what he asked.

Hetried to summarize everything that had happened since you last saweach other in a few sentences. He told you about his first failures,his successions and his final mistake, Lily. He told you everythinghe could about her and it felt like you were children again, whenVictor told you about his crushes. You listened like you always did,wrote down every important piece of information and when he told youwhat he and Henry where trying to achieve, you finally set down thepen and sighed.

Hadyou expected something insane?

Absolutely.

Hadyou expected it to be this insane?

God,no.

WhenVictor saw you hesitate, he grabbed your hands.

“Youare my last hope, (Y/N). I need this cure to work. I just.. I need itto work,” his voice was desperate. He seemed to really love thisLily. But this.. this was wrong.

“Whatyou’ve achieved, Victor, is a miracle. But what you’re planning now..I don’t know if I can be a part of this.”

Victor’seyes were pleading, pretty much begging you to help him.

Untilyou finally sighed and closed your eyes.

“Iwill think about it. That is the best I can offer for now,” you gotup and put your hand on his cheek, kissing his forehead.

Thenyou walked towards the door, passing by Henry’s desk.

“Andyou’re part of this madness, then?”

“Yes.”

Younarrowed your eyes at him.

Still acting weird, apparently.

***

Ittook you a week to come to a final decision.

WhatVictor and Henry tried to do wasn’t something you were comfortablewith, but having an evil immortal running around who was killingpeople in this city wasn’t something you were alright with either.You had to find a middle ground between what they were trying to achieveand the morals you believed in.

Youmight not have had attended university with the boys, but you had spentyour entire life reading up on things, getting every piece ofinformation you could find. And you already had some ideas on how tomake this experiment work, without taking everything from Lily.

Whenyou opened the door to their lab, Victor didn’t seem to be there.

Henrywas back at his desk, scribbling down notes, but turning around whenhe heard the door open.

“MayI?”

“Ifyou must.”

Henryhad always been more distant than Victor. There’s been a time whenyou thought he simply didn’t like you.. but then, one day, when hehad had too much to drink and something had happened in his family that he didn’t wish to discuss, youand him had talked and then he had suddenly kissed you.

Butever since that day, he had distanced himself even more.

Maybethis was your time to finally talk to him about it.

Youclosed the door behind you and walked over to his desk.

“Whatare you doing?”

“Working.”

“Onthe experiment?”

“Yes.”

Younodded and nibbled on your lower lip.

“Henry?Can we.. talk?”

“I’mquite busy.”

Youput your hand over his to stop him from writing down any furthernotes.

“Please.It won’t take long.”

Hepulled back his hand like fire had burned him, then he got up andwalked to the other side of the room, his back facing you.

“Whathave I done wrong to upset you so?” you didn’t follow him. If heneeded distance, then distance you’d give him.

“Youhaven’t.”

“Thenwhy are you still acting this way? I thought you.. liked me once”

Youremembered the kiss. He might have been drunk and it might have beensloppy at first, but the more your lips touched, the more he seemedto have sobered up. You could still feel his hands on your body, hishot breath against your skin..

“Youneed a normal man. Not someone like me. I’m not good for you.”

“Firstof all, I decide what’s good for me and what isn’t. And second, youdon’t know me very well if you think a normal man interests me in anyform or manner,” you still kept your distance, but you reallywanted to put your hands on his cheeks and make him understand that,despite of his past, you still cared for him, “You are special tome, Henry. You’ve always been special to me.”

Amuscle in his jaw twitched, his eyes still staring at the wall infront of him.

Eversince he had known you, he had been fascinated by you. He alwaysthought he has had problems in pursuing his medical career. But thenyou showed up, not even being allowed to attend the school and yetknowing just as much as Victor and himself in the field of medicine.With every day you had spent together, he had fallen more and morefor you.

Butthis side of him.. this side he could barely tame.. it was hardenough to deal with it on his own. But to put such burden on you?No.. you didn’t deserve that.

“Please,look at me,” your voice was pleading. All you wanted was for him tosee himself like you saw him.

Nota monster at all, but an intelligent young man who’s determinationhad brought him to where he was now. He was an inspiration, for sure.

Finally,after taking some deep breaths, he turned around and immediatelyrelaxed when he saw the kind smile that had formed on your lips.

“You’rea great man. An amazing scientist. And an even better kisser,” youchuckled and cocked your head to the side. Henry couldn’t help butsmile as well, “And you are the man I want to be with. Always have, ever since I met you.”

Helet out a long breath, staring into your eyes from across the room,searching for a lie.

Buthe found none.

Maybehe had finally found his match, who accepted him like he was, withall his flaws. And he still believed that he didn’t deserve you, butperhaps, in time, he could become a man worthy of you.

Slowly,he made his way over to you, raised his hand and put it under yourchin.

“Doyou really want this?”

“Withall my heart.”

Andwhen his lips met yours again, it felt like you had sealed yourfuture with a kiss.

#cynicalselkie #henry jekyll x reader #jekyll x reader #dr jekyll x reader #dr henry jekyll x reader #henry jekyll imagine #dr jekyll imagine #dr henry jekyll imagine #jekyll imagine #penny dreadful imagine #pd imagine #henry jekyll #jekyll #dr jekyll #dr henry jekyll #pd #penny dreadful #reader #requests

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starswelike · 4 years

Text

Hot beginning (The Heart - Marvel fanfiction)

This is the first chapter of the Marvel fanfiction titled The Heart

Pairing: Loki x OC

Warning: strong language

In this Story you can except:

massive character developement

an OC, who's secretly Not an OC

a hate to love relationship, and love át first sight

Loki becoming stronger

Lots of fun and sassy remarks

Warning again: I have to admit English is not my first language, but I try to learn it. I think writing is a good way to do it, because I love books and stories, and of course, fanfictions. 🙂

So I really hope if you give my story a chance, you won't regret it (and that I can write understandable 😅)

Well, enjoy the Story! ❤️

Chapter - Hot beginning

The armored troop-carrying SUV seemed to be moving at its greatest calm. Thanks to its serious equipment, the passengers could not feel it when the vehicle drove into a pothole, so starkly, keeping its speed, it broke towards their destination. The prestigious vehicle was perfectly suited for the transport of armed troops.

The nine people the monstrous SUV was carrying did not detect at all the wild pace dictated by their driver, middle-aged Dylan Johnson. The man was not a model of patience, it also appeared in his driving style: if he could not get around something on congested inner-city roads, he pushed it down with noble simplicity.

“Next time let's take a helicopter, it'll be faster." He had a slight annoyance between his teeth, though he could not deny that he enjoyed deep down that he was the greatest and that no one could stand in his way. Rather, the reason for his nervousness was that he was afraid of that, another unit was ahead of them. Dylan always wanted to be the first one who arrives to the crime scene, thanks to his competitive personality.

“Just take us there, Johnson. There will be plenty of other reasons for headaches." replied the small team's chief, Commander Miya Okamura, in a harsh tone. Her ominous words were noticed by all of them, knowing Okamura never exaggerated.

“Can you tell me what we're afraid of?”

Juan José Navarro, the team's sniper questioned in cold blood. His eyes and expression reflected his interest before his voice.

"Here's what we know," she began with the boss's usual firm voice. “There's been a report at 177/A Bleecker Street.

“Isn't that the title of that weird Strange?”

Aidan Cole, a handsome man in his 30s, could not wait for the boss to report everything undisturbed, as expected. He had comments all the time. What's more, he once again expressed his disinterest in magic.

"If you spit at Dr. Strange like that, you can scratch off the background of your phone, snitched," grumbled she, the team's med coach, Bria Hornback. “Scarlet Witch is not appropriate for you, who can't respect magic at all.”

“When did you check my phone, Hornback?” he asked with shock.

“I guess I found it out.”

“Wait. So you didn't know? Then how do you...?”

“Are you still asking? You always talk about her as the perfect woman.”

“Don't discuss who's looking at what now.” Okamura put an end to their light-hearted pecking. “Yes, that's where we're going. Wong came to us, Strange's most loyal man, claiming that particular events had taken place there in recent times, but before they could shed light on the secret, someone created a dimension gate that opened with a spell.”

“Can you make that a little clearer, boss?” Ella Willis was shocked. Her face showed the woman's lostness on the subject with undisgued sincerity, but she was not alone in doing so. Bria herself couldn't suddenly imagine what a dimension gate that would open all the time might look like.

"These wielding fuckers have created again," said Aidan, with mere despity. “Tell me, what's our job, boss?”

“Aidan, I'd like to know more about the situation.”

"So am I," said Bria, taking Ella's side. The weapons expert waved off the tea, which she wouldn't have left without a word. She felt the anger that was pouring in from her insides, but she exercised calm, for she knew it was not the best time to create a big-mouthed rival, even though in most cases she was happy to get involved.

“According to Wong, they don't know who caused the complication, which is why they need our help. Since the summoner's identity, and more importantly the spell itself, is not known, it is much more difficult for them to take them out," continued Miya, noting that the discussion had almost swerved in a different direction again. “What we know at the moment is that there's a dimensional gate that opens the way to several other dimensions at the same time. It's also feared to open up to a place where evil creatures sit on pins and needles waiting to be released to Earth.”

“That's tough. Then what do we do?" One of Bria's best companions, Takahashi Arashi, came out in the dismay of his eyes. He probably didn't get any smarter with the explanation; at least he probably didn't understand how the dimensional gate worked. Bria didn't fully understood it either, she didn't blame him, and she thought it was a sympathetic step to clarify what to do.

“According to what was discussed, Strange is trying to find the magic in the library, or a counter-spell to eliminate it. He noted that because he did not know how to eliminate it, at least traditional techniques do not work for the gate, it is feared to have been created by a force that is in the same way as Strange's power." Hearing the commander's remark, they all understood that the task would be more serious than expected, and Bria swallowed a great deal of concern, fearing that she would have to care for many of her comrades. “While the monks are protecting him, we, the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s units, are striving to catch the creatures pouring out of the gate, take them out and most of all, and not let them get away from the area. The lives of innocent civilians are at stake here.”

"That's why I hate all these magicians," shudded Aidan. “Their spells are like a bad experiment, only if it goes wrong, we could be in big shit.”

“Yes, because the gun is obviously completely harmless. Not to mention the nuclear bomb and its associates. And even these are old-fashioned compared to today's new weapons.”

Bria was unable to stop responding to the man's statement, which earned her inciforming gaze.

"The line-up is the usual," continued Okamura, once again noting the little digression. “Saunders is on his way, Ella's covering for him from above. Aidan and Takahashi will follow him with me. Alma, Hornback and Johnson stay in the back and cover Navarro until he can find the best shooting position.”

“I've been looking for some for you, Juan. Do you see them? “ the young technician in the passenger seat, Alma Mariano, turned back.

“Yes, I picked out what I thought.”

They all had digital display phones as work equipment. A fantasy image of the area to be secure has already appeared on it, beamed by S.H.I.E.L.D. satellites. The gate was located in the middle of the four-lane road, which was open in the north-east and southwest. But they weren't aware if anything had come through.

They all saw the small front terrace that Juan had chosen. Okamura nodded, approve of the decision.

“All right, Alma, you cover Navarro and Johnson's got Hornback.”

Bria was very feared for her associates during every operation. The boss always explained this by saying that they needed her, as a med schooler, to save lives, not to risk her own at the forefront. If she's lost, maybe there won't be anyone else to help. She appreciated the same, and it felt great to her that there was always someone to protect her even when she was in the danger zone, but she wasn't completely satisfied. Even though they told her that she deserved it as a med coach, she somehow felt like a clog and longed to fight better on the battlefield. Unfortunately, she only received basic combat training, and the main education for her was physiology, biology, chemistry, all that science. She gained useful knowledge, but at times she felt like a bird locked in a cage.

The bends were felt from slight inclinations. Bria and the people on the same side as her were leaning forward on a left turn, holding them only with their straps in place, when Dylan said:

“That stinking fucking sky! It's like it was in ‘12.”

If she could, Bria would have jumped up to see what might have been out there, but she knew what was late wouldn't go away, so she waited, despite the immense curiosity that consumed her insides. Their driver compared this one to the incident in which the Asgardian gods appeared on Earth, and Loki unleashed an army of alien beings called Chitauri on them. Would that have meant that bloodthirsty race had re-found? There was a chance, the dimension gate gave them every opportunity.

She took it upon herself with a big sigh, and decided that she would do everything she could to make sure that no such great devastation could occur again. That old case did enough damage to her and her life, and she was just one of them. To this day, countless people have thought of that day with anger, grief, sadness, and they all had their rightful reasons.

Takahashi put his hand on her shoulder and stroked it a little to help her relax a little. Perhaps he did it a little more gently than he should have, but Bria appreciated that and his smile. That man knew her too well, he noticed her tension. She couldn't have kept anything from him.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, they untied their seat belts and armed and prepared for the command.

“Johnson, what do you see?”

'Well, there's trouble' murmured the man, then exchanged a meaningful look with Alma sitting next to him. ‘Conventional weapons won't work here. Some creatures don't even have a solid body that pops up.”

It didn't prove a little reassuring to hear that. Although the arms industry also tried to keep up with magic and space technology, the most widespread weapon was still the one that threw up bullets. True, those who fired shots similar to those of the late Iron Man's energy beams began to gain ground. Fortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. circles did not prove to be a problem to obtain these types, yet Bria was less confident in grabbing her small pistol, which was handed to her after the gun cabinet was opened. She didn't have one, only that and her combat knife.

“Let's go, let's go” Okamura commanded, and Saunders opened the back doors at that moment.

It couldn't be put off any longer, so Bria swallowed all her tensions and went with her companions as discussed. Saunders cut forward with a huge gun, Ella pulled over his head with the help of a jet-pack. Just as Okamura and they discussed, everyone was grouped together to whom they were commanded. Bria waited for Johnson, and together they cleaned up the creatures that got close to them.

The view turned out to be astonishing. At first glance, they couldn't figure out the tangle. Despite the fact that Bria thought it might be time for her to finally be in the lead, Bria was grateful that she could stay a little behind to map the field. If she had been in the front, she would suddenly not have known what to do, but the others shooted at their opponents almost without thinking, reflex, habit.

The sparkly dimension gate was located right in the middle of the road, as the digital map showed. When she looked into it, Bria saw that the place changed from second to second. She saw worlds she never dreamed of. There were some strangers from where they came from. Flaming skeletons or icy giants, splashing swamp creatures or space creatures floating in ghost form. From the horrible to the more beautiful, there were all sorts of things, but thank goodness not all the areas where the gate opened proved dangerous.

With a big leap, a strange, blue-bodied creature, looking like a half-grown frog, landed near her. It was ugly, especially I’s huge canine teeth, which it clapped towards Bria. The woman was startled by the unexpected incident, but she was neither a beginner nor a clumsy one, so she quickly put her gun on him and destroyed the ugly creature with an energy beam.

Dr. Stephen Strange was not present. He must have been wildly looking for a counter-spell. His disciples and members of the order, on the other hand, have been very aides in capturing the terrible creatures. They were mostly pushed into other dimensions, and the monks were very smart. If a creature came from underwater, it was sent to the desert, which came from the cold, thrown next to lava. The cruel but useful procedure has brought its results, and for the time being they have managed to control the various species, none have ever attacked anyone. It was a real relief for Bria to see that the situation was under control. So she aimed her targets with much more confidence. Unfortunately, sometimes she found someone who had just been sent through a dimension gate from under her nose, but it was better to try twice than not once.

“That's going to be fine. Only the doc has to rush” said Dylan, and the medic nodded.

If everything had stayed that way, the situation would have been resolved over time, but no one said that more serious opponents would arrive. The gate made sure it opened in most of the places that exist. Some were given the moment it saw the gate that opened at their home, and some of them were unwittingly dragged in. And Bria was the first to see him.

It's been more than ten years since Bria was attacked in Manhattan. The losses she suffered that day proved to be heavy for her. Although she always thought she could never make amends, and she had to learn to live with the thought that what she lost that day would never get her back, she was overwhelmed with feelings of anger and vengeance when that day came up or whatever hinted at it. That's why she was so ready to act in the open-plan, but the moment she saw Loki unearthed from the gate, who could not be mistaken for anyone else, she was blinded by rage to the extent she had never before. At the same time, she felt a sudden desire to act. If she catches that cunning but dangerous god, they'll finally, maybe for once in her life, appreciate her and realize that she's dynamic, too.

Anger is not a good counselor. Bria, who always tried to act judiciously, even if it was difficult, proved unable to restrain herself this time. She wasn't thinking, she was just doing what she wanted to do in those moments.

“Loki!" She screamed, like a wild Amazon, and immediately threw herself toward him, not counting, not caring about the command, nor her team, nor the potential danger. She just wanted to get close to him before God knows what he would do. Bria's only advantage was that she was on her way before Loki could even figure out what had happened to him. She could tell he didn't intend to be here at all. His face was clear with surprise and anger.

Bria almost instinctively pushed aside those who got in her way, could have been her teammates, Strange's men or monsters. It's like Loki was in the crosshairs, and she waded through anything to get to him.

“Hornback, stop!” Okamura shouted at her, hearing it loudly over the radio, but not she heeded it. She wouldn't let anyone stop her.

Loki seemed to be surrounded by a faint blue light. Although Bria had never seen anything like it before, she didn't dilate, and she kicked off and caught the Asgardian before the light flash blinded her.

The next thing she knows, she's feeling them fall and she's burying Loki under herself. She didn't even notice it was hot, and everything looks so red. She wanted it too much. She sat on Loki's chest and held his hands down.

“I've got you!” she declared triumphantly. At that moment, their eyes met. She could see Loki’s confusion, and then his pupils dilated. Bria didn't know where to put this. She thought maybe the god of mischief had seen something that scared him, and her vanity was fading at the thought that it might be her.

Then she noticed the change of environment. She looked carefully around, not yielding to her grip, and discovered they were near a volcano, on a protruding rock, plenty of hot air. And Loki didn't look at all like he was having a good time. He was sweaty, his eyes fell in and his lip was dry.

A dimension gate opened, and they all caught their heads to see an overly muscular creature, resembling a minotaur of legends, fall straight into the hot magna. Their demonic cries, while burning, penetrated to the veal, Bria trembled for a moment, but she ruled.

"I didn't want to come here," murmured Loki under his nose, looking at Bria, as if he expected the answer to the big question of how they got here.

"They probably caught us with a dimension gate and sent us here."

"And why are you here, pretty eyes?"

Bria didn't show anything because of her equipment, just her eyes. They were just as blue as the sky on the most beautiful summer days. Loki looked at her with a peculiar smile, he seemed so confident, she wanted to shout at him, but now she finally ruled herself. She took the first step, caught him and got close to him. She quickly completed the final phase before Loki could escape, pulled a tiny circular object from one of her waistline bags and quickly pushed it to his neck.

"Auch" he hissed and Bria pressed the button in the middle of the device to activate itself. "What's this?"

"It blocks magic" she smiled, smiling slyly, and even good enough to lean close to the face of the God, looking even closer into his eyes, emphasized what she had to say. "You're my captive."

"Hm" sighed Loki and rolled his eyes. Somehow, the threats never work, and he's already reached out to rip the device out of his neck. Bria quickly pressed the button on the remote control for the device, and her prisoner shocked throughout his body and froze.

"If you do something I don't like, count on me to torture you."

"There's has to be a time when you're not watching" chuckled Loki. He was ready for the challenge, he wasn't daunted, even when Bria was sure he wouldn't get out of it. She leaned even closer to him. She herself behaved in a challenging way, feeling in the saddle.

"Test me."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long time. Loki didn't move either. It seemed serious, as if he had studied his situation, but Bria's attention was not abated. But she couldn't deny her excitement. For all the things he did that day, Loki could now be penalized and she was happy to be so close to him. She's heard the saying more than once, revenge isn't worth anything, but it's proved undeniable that it's sweet.

"What do you intend to do to me now?"

If they were already in the crater of a volcano, there must have been a reason to be lured. Bria could have rolled Loki down into magna, he probably wouldn't have survived, especially with a teaser blocking his strength around his neck. Her gaze suggested that she had thought for a moment about this possibility. Once and for all, ridding a villain of the world turned out to be truly graceful, but in the end she followed protocol by pushing his position indicator so that if they sought her out, they would find her.

"It's an enjoyable position, the way you sit on top of me, but maybe we should move."

He was sick of the heat, which is why the Asgardian was talking. Bria, on the other hand, wasn't touched by that. Seeing him suffer was a pleasure for her.

"Commander Okamura!" She told his transceiver, but the static chatter revealed that they wouldn't be receiving it. "The rocks are shielding the channel."

"Should I take you somewhere else?"

"Listen, the easiest thing for me would be to push you into the lava, so you better not pull the plug."

He smiled again. He’s never been scared of threats? Bria was a little amazed by this, but at the same time annoyed, but calmed herself with a quick sigh. She couldn't let Loki mislead her. She knew exactly how emotional manipulation could achieve his goals, which is to escape at the moment. If she’s already captured him, she really didn't want him to get out of hand.

She was hot, but not as hot as Loki. The Asgardian was tormented by the symptoms of heat, while Bria simply took the mask off her face and then the helmet off her head. She left her blond hair in a bun, and to torture his prisoner even more, she took out her canteen and pulled a big one out of it. Deliberately so that the fine water drips over her face, and then on her waterproof clothes, a few drops reach Loki. She looked at the man with a sarcastic smile, barely visibly licking her mouth, his eyes almost staring out, so he observed. This filled her with satisfaction, and she even made a small laugh.

"You're an evil woman, you know that?" Loki said softly. Although him tone might have been surprising, Bria ignored it.

"I'm just enjoying the moment."

"As do I."

"What?" she tipped his head to the side. "I can tell you're about to die of heat, and you can't even get the teaser out of your neck, because if you reach for it, I'm going to push the button. What is it that you can enjoy now?"

He smiled again. Despite the circumstances that were really causing him suffering, Loki was very easy to use to confuse Bria. She was terrified to realize that he had already begun manipulating her, as he had piqued her curiosity.

" Yes, even though you can see that I'm not a fan of heat, the energies that come out of you, the passion, the sexuality, the confidence, and how beautiful you are and how close you are to me..."

"Are you seriously complimenting me?!" Bria screamed, as did another being that they didn't pay attention to, but in the meantime it got here and fell into the lava. Loki smiled like rabies. The Asgardian was crazy, if he really thought it would take her off his feet. The woman was sure that Loki had not taken a word seriously, if only because of his great egotistical reputation, which, because of his divinity, looked down on people so despised that he would have condemned them directly to servitude. When someone felt this way about humanity, the compliment could not have been real, but in Loki's case, the issues should be treated with reservations.

"What's so surprising?" The man's half-smile would have been quite heartwarming with those sparkling eyes if it wasn't for Loki who Bria hated so much because of the old attack. "Don't they ever tell you how beautiful you are? Or are your fellow human beings so blind?"

"Don't think I'm going to fall for the honey-glazed words. You're a god, and I'm a human. You look down on us."

"But I recognize beauty."

"You're just trying to embarrass me so you can manipulate me."

"Yes, because I'm guessing you're trying to lock me up somewhere. I can see the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo pinned to your chest."

Bria almost screamed at Loki not to stare at her breasts, but she couldn't let anger take control of her. The Asgardian tried hard to get out, obviously by all means. She was starting to feel uncomfortable alone with Loki. She was really hoping the beacon sent the notification. Even if the radio waves were blocked, the position indicator sent a signal to every satellite in existence, which could then be decoded in S.H.I.E.L.D's central application.

"I am surprised by your sincerity," she replied, more calmly than she had first planned.

"At the same time if I can't escape, I'll try to enjoy every moment with you at least."

"I'm afraid I'm not enjoying anything with you."

"You sat on my chest quite easily. Maybe you could do it to my lap too."

"With these perverse innuendos, you're not going to get anything from me," chuckled Bria. "Even though I haven't had a relationship yet, I'm not embarrassed by the subject of sexuality. "

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know how many people make pig comments about me at work? I had to learn to handle these."

"I guess other people recognize the beauty you have," said Loki, raising his eyebrows with some anger, which gave Bria joy in the hope that these compliments would finally spare him. "But now that I've found out you're a virgin, you seem interestingly more attractive to me."

"Come on, don't make a stand. I know you despise me for being human, so I can't be attractive to you."

"Why is Hornback written on your dress? Is that your name?"

"Yes, I'm Bria Hornback," she nodded, it's okay for Loki to remember her name." What's wrong with it?"

"It's such an interesting coincidence, don't you think?" the Asgardian flashed that half-smile meant to be alluring again, and his eyes shone despite all his suffering. "Your name is Hornback, and I have a helmet with horns swerved back..."

"Don't explain to me that we have anything in common." Bria was still more restrained than she first wanted, while the sounds of death filled the space. "You're a monster!"

"What did I do to you to hate me so much? Or are you like this because of New York?"

Bria kept quiet. Her ears were hurt by the bitter cry of another creature. Death proved to be shocking, no matter how it came.

But she didn't stay quiet because she wanted to hear the cry so much. She just didn't want to answer the question.

"You don't know me, yet you judge me," continued the Asgardian. "Tell me, do you really think you guys are so flawless? I mean, judging isn't a very nice gesture."

"I didn't say we are, but you did enough damage to my life to make me hate you."

"Yes, it was a big mistake, and yes, I'm guilty. Since then, however, there have been a lot of events that have made me change, so..."

"Oh, don’t you dare make yourself look as a good guy." she snapped. "You're evil, the god of mischief, unreliable, and..."

"Don't be so stupid!"

Loki's voice thundered with anger for the first time, which frightened her. The word was stuck in her throat.

"Are you seriously going to put a little tip on everyone? Good and evil? White and black? You should know by now that there's no one in the universe who has only good or bad qualities. We all have our faults. Even you, Bria."

It turned out to be an odd feeling when Loki called her by her name. Despite the fact that he intended his monologue to be a reproach, it was as if the man found her worthy calling by her name. That said, after he liked her last name, maybe she shouldn't have been surprised.

"You're not treating me like an equal. You judge me without knowing me. You're being this erotic, and you're putting me through this heat. These are bad qualities."

"Merry Christmas! I hope you're pleased with your discovery."

"You're as cynical as I am," laughed Loki, but his throat was scratched. Maybe he was starting to dry out. "They say cynicism is a sign of intelligence."

"Do you have anything else to study on me?"

"Interestingly, the more I learn about you, the more I care about you."

'Wow, That’s good for me. " Bria sighed not a little joyously.

Suddenly she saw a bright flash of light in the sky. A helicopter appeared over the crater, and the beam of light settled on them after some searching. Bria's relieved to see this.

"This is Bria Hornback, med school of Commander Miya Okamura's unit," said she to her transceiver after setting up the general S.H.I.E.L.D. channel, holding one eye on Loki. "I have a captive I'm asking for urgent support for. I catched Loki!"

"All right, Agent Hornback." received the answer via radio. "We're taking Loki into custody immediately. We help you! Please don't move."

Bria smiled for the first time with a truly great exultation at the man who had been laid down. His face finally showed a slight sign of disappointment.

"So you succeeded," he said resonantly.

"If there's anyone you shouldn't look down on, it's me. "

"I'd add, for now. Because I can't guarantee I'll stay with you for a long time."

Bria looked deep in Loki’s eyes, and the feelings of victory were gone. It was perhaps the first sentence she believed without doubt and took as a warning. She did not want to tell the Asgardian that she was up to the challenge.

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waywardimpalawriter · 7 years

Note

"This whole time I've been using you to make me feel better, and you never caught on. You never caught on. I want you to hate me now, but I don't think you're even able to." With Dean? Sorry, I'm on mobile so it took me so long to write this out lol.

Goodbyein her eyes

Summary: When pushed too farsometimes you just have to walk away.

Pairing: Demon Dean x Reader, MoCDean x Reader

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam

Rating: R on the safe side

Warnings: angst, torture,violence, heart broken

Word count: 1,529

Setting: Middle to end of season10

Notes: I struggled with how towrite this story/drabble that’s why it took me so long. Anon requests plus angstdrabble starter request. They fit so well together so I thought why not do themtogether. Italics means flashbacks to when Dean is a demon torturing the reader.This story is from Dean’s point of view.

Taglist: Taken off or put on send me an ask.

Forever: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @marvel-lucy @feelmyroarrrr @aquabrie @fandommaniacx @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @supernaturallymarvellous

Supernatural: @smoothdogsgirl @aprofoundbondwithdean @ruprecht0420 @oneshoeshort

I couldsee it in her eyes, such sadness and regret mixed with a heavy dose of goodbye.I knew from the moment she told me everything’s copacetic that somethings trulywrong. She’s been avoiding me for the better part of three days. Can’t say as Iblame her much not after everything I’ve put her through. Words that were meantto kill what was left of her love for me, disappearing for weeks, capturing andtorturing her for days, leaving her for dead. Now that one should’ve taken thecake right but no none of that detrude my stubborn girl.

Adamantlystating that what I’d done; the pain I’d caused wasn’t my fault I’d been ademon at the time. Soul black as night because if that damned Mark of Cain andthe First blade. Yet every time I closed my eyes I saw what I’d done, the messI’d made of her. The scars I left and she forgave me for.

“I told you not to follow me, to let me go andwhat’d you do?” Knife’s edge drawing a thin line of blood to drip down herright forearm making it dance in all directions. Knowing it’ll leave a permanentreminder behind a warning I told her to heed. The muted scream from behind thegag is all I gets.

“Ah yes I remember now,” evil smirk gracing my lipsas I sneer at her. “Follow, that’s what you’ve done when I explicitly told youto stay away. I always figured you were stupid Y/N but not this much.”

Pulling the gag from her aching jaw that she worksout with slow little wiggles and stretches hands still firmly bound behind herback, “this isn’t you Dean fight it, come back to us, to me.”

Dark laughter resounded off the run down shack myfingers like a vice gripping her chin, leaving bruises behind. “This is mesweetheart a new and improved version and truthfully I like what I’ve become.” Sneerfirmly in place while bending down to stare right into her blood shot and puffyeyes.

Eyes thatI’d come to love to have shining with trust and happiness. That now glanceevery so often to make sure I haven’t ran off again to rejoin Crowley as hisKnight of hell. Like that would ever happen. The burn reminding me all it wouldtake is one person snuffing out my life again and I’ll be right back to squareone. I couldn’t have that for Sam’s sake and hers. Though no matter how manytimes I’ve told both to leave me be neither will give up. It’s the reasonCharlie’s gone, left in a pool of her own blood battered and broken for us tofind. It’s how she’ll end up if she doesn’t leave.

“Then kill me now Winchester. Get it over withalready or are you all talk?” she sneered right back at me. Fighting her boundswith all the strength she could wanting to get free.

For whatpurpose I didn’t know. Stronger, faster and could over power her smaller framewithin seconds even without being a demon, Y/N couldn’t get even to the frontdoor before I’d be on her.

“Now where’s the fun in that little one? Not verysporting to just kill and run,” another dark chuckle leaves my lips making herflinch. “Come on sweet cheeks you telling me you don’t like what I’ve become?”

Staying mute eyes blazing as she watched me watchingher. Minutes could’ve been hours ticked by as I grew bored with the wholesituation. “Always the chatty one, now you’re mute. Where was that during thoselong drives when I wished you’d shut up prayed that I had duct tape to keep thewords from spilling out. Better yet slapping,” pulling his open palm backlanding a hard slap to her cheek that sends her and the chair she’s sitting into the floor, “the shit out of you to shut up.”

Tears springingto her eyes as she tries to hold back the sob that threatens to flow from herbusted lip tongue peeking out to taste coppery blood. “If you didn’t want mearound you could’ve just said something,” voice catching trying to keep herfear and cries in.

“And have Sammy boy pouting like a fucking two yearold,” rolling my eyes and righting her chair my head shaking in disgust. “I don’tknow why I put up with either of you for so long.”

“Because you love us,” trying to reason with thepart of Dean she hoped is still inside him.

Scoffing stepping away, “Love ain’t got nothing todo with it babe. The whole time I’vebeen using you to make me feel better, and you never caught on. You nevercaught on, I want you to hate me now, but I don’t think you’re even able to.You’re to pathetic, whine and useless for anything other than a few good fucksand even then it’s subpar at best. Lisa had been far better than you.”

Gasping this time a sob really did leave her drycracked lips eyes blinked back hot tears that still betrayed her state of mindby sliding down cool cheeks. “You don’t mean that,” always the fear in the backof her mind that I never loved her as much as I had Lisa.

Confirming that idea gave me such glee, “Ohsweetheart you wish, Lisa was/is ten times better the woman you are. I nevergot over her and never will.”

Memoriesfading like the late day sun while taking a long pull of the cool beer in myhand. Passing the bottle between my palms over the hardwood of the table underneathglancing up when I heard footsteps approach the kitchen door. Remembering the finalstraw that made her decision to leave etching itself in stone after the Styne’stried to destroy the Bunker. She knew I couldn’t be trusted not with the Markon my arm, I’d become even more volatile. Killing innocent people even if thekid had been a Styne and finding Cas beat up to the point of death. Not fearingme but what the Mark was turning me into. That fear driving her away and I’mletting it happen.

“Sam’sgot my number if he needs anything,” I could feel her search my posture; thetense set of my shoulders and bowed head. I knew she’s waiting for me to saysomething anything to keep her from going.

But I couldn’tnot with how I treated her. The words I said and have let her believe. To thisday I don’t understand why she forgave me but then I knew she’s stronger than Iever will be and a purer soul.

“Takecare of yourself,” the only words I could get passed my lips without baring mysoul.

Deep breathtaken in, “You really are just going to let me leave?”

“Yup,”another drink the Mark burning my forearm reminding me why I’m letting the bestthing in my life best sides Sam leave.

I couldhear her sniffle, can imagine the tears that slip down her cheeks, the longthin still red and healing scar down her forearm. The haunted look I put inthose beautiful once shining eyes. Eyes that told me long again that goodbyewas coming I just hadn’t known when.

Hearing theswallow, knowing she wants to say more, “Take care of yourself Winchester I’llbe praying for you.”

When hadanyone’s prayers ever been answered? Never that’s when and I knew her’s wouldn’teither. However, I held my tongue on that subject. “Take care of yourselfsweetheart,” I couldn’t help the term of endearment that slipped passed mydefenses hoped she wouldn’t catch it. Or if she did think nothing of it so Iheld my breath waiting.

Finallylooking up seeing her nod, duffle bag slung over one shoulder left hand holdingonto the strap like a lifeline to a drowning man. “See ya around,” three simplewords and she’s gone nothing else said nor will ever again.

Standing myanger over flows as the brown bottle goes flying across the room shatteringinto a thousand pieces just like my none existence heart. Over throwing thetable in a fit of blind rage the Mark fueling my anger. Shoving everything offthe counters making glasses and mugs shatter, and pots bang to the ground whenI rip the hanger from the ceiling. Myown hot tears mixing with the anger flowing through my veins as I fall againstthe wall to the floor. I should be relieved instead I just feel empty inside. I knew I’d never change the goodbye in hereyes and part of me didn’t want to. I had to keep her safe for my sanity orwhat’s left of it anyway.

Maybe oneday I’ll find her again, explain and hope that I can win her back. Till then I’mstuck with this thing on my arm and very little hope as that just walked outthe door carrying my heart with her.

End…

#Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x y/n #Dean Winchester angst #Dean Winchester fiction #Dean x you #Dean x Reader #Dean x y/n #Supernatural fiction #Demon Dean Winchester x Reader #Demon Dean Winchester x you #Demon Dean Winchester x y/N

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thelegendofclarke · 7 years

Note

wait what did grrm do in the vietnam war?

Uuummm well I mean for me it’s more about what he ~didn’t do~ than what he did do tbh…

GRRM was eligible for the draft during the Vietnam War and ended up getting called to serve, but he applied for and was granted conscientious objector status. So he basically refused to serve in combat and did two years of alternative service instead because he thought the war was imperialist and that the U.S. had no business invading Vietnam.

(*Discussions of war and 7x04 spoilers under the cut*)

He’s talked about it in interviews before like this one, and about how as a writer he’s trying to show both sides of war: “the gruesome and the glorious.” In this Rolling Stone interview where he basically says Vietnam was “terrible mistake for America”:

I don’t think America has ever quite recovered from Vietnam. The divisions in our society still linger to this day. For my generation it was a deeply disillusioning experience, and it had a definite effect on me.

BUT this is why I find it semi surprising that he has such a pervasive reputation as an imperialist and complete war apologist. And also why I find it weird that people seem to think that the only ~possible~ interpretation of ASoIaF is that is solely a story about the glorification of war. Like, the opposite interpretation is also valid.

Before anyone @’s me, I have definitely read analyses of why ASoIaF doesn’t actually work as an imperialist critique. And I agree with a lot of it honestly, there are some pretty major world building problems, especially in relation to Essos and Slaver’s Bay. BUT personally I think there is one place where it succeeds, if not necessarily as a critique then as a parallel especially in regards to war, and that’s in power inequities. By giving her dragons, GRRM gave D.any not only a tactical advantage, but a decisive one:

“Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only [D.any] has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world… But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I’m trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn’t mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn’t give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.” (x)

And I think that the GoT show runners were also trying to parallel this type of inequality of power in Field of Fire 2.0:

I wanted to tell the story of what it was like to be on the ground and in the middle of a dragon attack and what it was like when war changes forever and a truly horrific weapon like napalm or an atom bomb is suddenly unleashed and what that does to the men on the ground. —Director Matt Shakman (x)

So I don’t think GRRM was necessarily trying to strictly glorify war and imperialism or strictly trying to condemn war and imperialism, that’s far too simplistic and black and white. I think he was trying to examine it from multiple angels and give us the audience a fictional vehicle with which to examine it as well. Kind of like how George Orwell wrote Animal Farm as a platform to examine communism, or Margaret Atwood wrote The Handmaids Tale to examine the patriarchy, or Ray Bradbury wrote Farenheit 451 to examine censorship, or Aldous Huxley wrote Brave New World to examine the effects of scientific advancement, or Harper Lee wrote To Kill a Mockingbird to examine racism and prejudicial issues, or Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle to examine immigration issues ect. ect. These are literary commentaries on past, present, and future societal issues. They are meant to be provocative, they are meat to be magnetizing, and in some cases they are meant to be inflammatory or polarizing. They are meant to make us feel and they are meant to make us think.

So when some of the audience want to compare and/or contrast the battles and the wars and the violence in ASoIaF to modern nuclear warfare, it really shouldn’t be like ~the weirdest thing ever~ because it’s not an entirely irrelevant analogy. I do keep seeing all these claims about how Dany is being compared to Hitler in meta, and although I have yet to see any analysis that takes that route so I’m not sure to what extent it’s happening, that comparison would be way too specific and not at all accurate. Because in this particular context the narrative is meant not to examine man as evil, but to examine the evils of war itself and its effects on mankind. I mean, whether or not GRRM actually ~succeeded~ in this endeavor is a completely different issue, and also a subjective one.

Maybe the issue is that GRRM doesn’t seem to take a firm, clear stance one way or the other: pro war vs. anti war, pro imperialism vs. anti imperialism. In a fantasy story like ASoIaF, with so many complexities and dynamics and details, it’s hard to tell with any certainty where GRRM stands. But I think presenting a narrative from multiple angels is more common in social commentary stories than people may think. For example, the epilogue of The Handmaids Tale, “Historical Notes,” is presented as a partial transcript of a speech given by a Prof. Pieixoto at the proceedings of the “Twelfth Symposium on Gileadean Studies” held 200 years after Offred’s story and the fall of Gilead. Instead of being overtly critical of the Gileadean society, Pieixoto goes out of his way in the beginning to remind the audience, “We must be careful about passing moral judgement on the Gileadans… Our job is not to censure but to understand.” Pieixoto’s contextualization of the document fills in some of the world building: Plummeting birthrates in “northern Caucasian societies”—caused by anything from the AIDS epidemic and a nasty R-strain syphilis to nuclear sabotage to the uncontrolled use of insecticides—gave Gilead the impetus to force women into Handmaid service. So instead of automatically condemning Gilead and it’s methods, he looks to understand the circumstances surrounding them and why they acted in the manner they did. So by refusing to outright condemn it, does this mean he is inherently supporting Gilead’s methods? Or is he attempting to look at it neutrally? Or is it both or neither?

The series is not saying that man is evil, it is saying that war is evil. It’s saying that war can turn even the noblest of intentions (like freeing the Vietnamese people from what was allegedly an evil communist regime for example) into something terrible and/or that has horrifying ramifications. It’s saying that war is either gruesome or glorious depending on where you are standing, and that most of the time its both. When GRRM writes a big bloody battle scene with dragons that can knock out an entire city and its population with minimal effort, is he glorifying war and victory and annihilation of an evil enemy? Or is he paralleling the atrocities of dropping a nuclear bomb on a Vietnamese city like Hiroshima or Nagasaki? War can be both gruesome and glorious at the same time… But then you start getting into this ~weird~ hair splitting area of whether you are criticizing an actor vs. their actions vs. their intentions. Like, when people discuss the Vietnam War, are they criticizing America and it’s people as a whole? Or just their actions in Vietnam? And does the intent behind that actions matter or make it better? If an actor’s intent is not imperialist, does that ~automatically~ mean the means and ends won’t be imperialist? And is there really a difference between any of these things? Can you criticize one with out criticizing the other?

What matters more: The ends or the means? Why you’re fighting a war or how you fight a war?

Is there actually an answer to that question?

#alys answers #war tw #got spoilers #got for ts #asoiaf for ts #george r.r. martin #imperialsm #social commentary #idk WHY i ALWAYS compare asoiaf to tht #but here we are #the handmaid's tale #margaret atwood #anonymous #alys meta

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bendegroeve · 7 years

Text

Free will relativism - A middle ground between Free will absolutism & Fatalism

According to some research, denying the existence of free will - such as claiming that our choices are determined since the beginning of the Big Bang - causes people to develop more fatalist, irresponsible attitudes. However, I think one needs to be careful with interpreting these results, because free will is an ambiguous concept. In this essay, I will first introduce some science about decision-making. Then I will talk about two extreme modes of thinking about decision-making: free will absolutism and fatalism. I will argue that both modes of thinking are plausibly harmful and fallacious. Finally, I will bring this dichotomy together in a cohesive, realistic whole: free will relativism, which is compatible with the science of decision-making. The Science of Decision-making According to science, we do the things we do because of continuous interactions between our bodies and our environment, which are both quite stable, yet ever-changing. Without the environment, there is no playground to act. Without our bodies, there is no act. The basic evolutionary function of the central nervous system is to coordinate the body in its environment, which is important to satisfy biological needs for survival, development and reproduction. Conciousness - one's ongoing experience - can be seen as an enhanced function of the central nervous system to allow a (more) flexible response mechanism (FRM) to coordinate the body in its environment. Through evolution, we developed the capacity to experience pleasant feelings toward what generally satisfies our needs and unpleasant feelings toward what generally threatens them. As a result, we as sentient beings experience problems subjectively. Decision-making, a part of the FRM, can be regarded as a problem-solving activity, which is terminated by a solution that is satisfactory to solve the problem at hand (f.e. find food). Conciousness provides the input data for decision-making, which is integrated information from the senses about the body and its environment and from memory based on past experiences. During the decision-making process alternative beliefs or courses of actions are identified, weighed and selected, which may or may not result in an action (defined as intentional, purposive, conscious and subjectively meaningful behaviour). It has been theorized (by Kahneman D.) that a person's decision-making involves two kinds of cognitive processes: an automatic intuitive system that is a bottom-up, fast, and implicit system of decision-making, and an effortful rational system that is a top-down, slow, and explicit system of decision-making. This theory is consistent with the idea of bounded rationality (Herbert S.), according to which people are only partly rational, and are irrational in the remaining part of their actions. People experience limits in formulating and solving complex problems and in processing (receiving, storing, retrieving, transmitting) information, and make use of mental-short cuts (heuristics) to make decisions (f.e. affect heuristic, availability heuristic, familiarity heuristic, representativeness heuristic). Free will absolutism Free will is oftentimes conceived as the idea that people ultimately cause their own choices, and are therefore ultimately responsible for their own actions. Although this idea - which I call free will absolutism - can be a powerful motivator to act and solve problems, it is bound to overestimate the role of choice and responsibility in the natural world, which may lead to: - magical, counterfactual thinking ("person X could have acted otherwise", “you can always control your own actions”) - negligence of problems ("the poor ultimately choose to be poor") - retributive punishment ("person X choose to behave badly, so s/he has to suffer") I believe free will absolutism is an extreme mode of thinking about decision-making and responsibility, and I think the idea is fallacious, because it artificially seperates ourselves from our environment, and assumes some kind of vague, magical “self” driving our behaviour. It obscures the fact that our choices are bounded by factors that aren’t within our control. People don’t cause their own choices ‘ultimately’, but only to a degree, depending on the information present in their brains, and the environment with which they currently interact. Fatalism The other extreme mode of thinking about decision-making and responsibility is the antipode of free will absolutism: fatalism. Instead of assuming that we are ultimately responsible for our own choices, fatalism assumes that we are ultimately irresponsible, and don’t cause any of our own choices. Fatalism allows to easily forgive oneself and others. Assuming that you don’t have a choice, can also be a powerful motivator to act in a certain way (“I have to do this, I have no choice.”). On the other hand, fatalism is bound to underestimate the role of choice and responsibility in the natural world (in a way that is relevant for humans), which may lead to: - negligence of problems (“we can’t control our own actions”) - prejudice about future actions (“person X will not be able to act otherwise”) - moral nihilism (“our choices don’t matter”) I think fatalism also artificially seperates ourselves from our environment. Everyday experience and science shows us that people are able to control their behaviour to a limited extent, although not in a magical or ultimate sense as described above. Even if all our choices are determined since the beginning of the Big Bang, it does not follow that we should be prejudiced about our future actions, because we can not know for sure what our choices will be in the future. It also does not follow that our choices wouldn’t matter, because (1) harm and suffering are bad by definition, so it matters to avoid them irrespective of one’s notions of free will, and (2) because we are bound to make decisions according to our needs, preferences or values. Fatalism only follows from a denial of free will if one resorts in black-and-white thinking about decision-making, where free will absolutism (“we always have a choice, we are ultimately responsible for our actions”) and fatalism (“we don’t have a choice, we can’t take responsibility”) are as two sides of the same coin: extreme modes of thinking about decision-making and responsibility. Free will relativism: a sensible middle ground A relativist notion of free will assumes that people have an ability to make choices and behave responsibly, but that some factors that influence their decisions are beyond their control. Therefore, we are not ‘ultimately’ free to choose (in the sense of autonomous or self-controlled) or ‘ultimately’ responsible for our actions, but only to a degree. I propose to conceive free will and responsibility as natural abilities (and not as magical givens), and to align these concepts with the science of decision-making. Free will relativism implies conceiving free will as the ability to make autonomous, self-controlled decisions, an ability that depends on circumstances, but which can also be improved. Similarly, responsibility can quite be conceived as follows: “I suppose responsibility is quite simply ‘the ability to respond’: when you question the things you do, you can give sensible reasons as to why you are doing what you are doing. Responsibility requires you to realize the consequences of what you do and the decisions you make. To me, responsibility really is an ability. As with other abilities, you can be(come) better or worse at it, and as with all abilities, responsibility is limited by natural factors. More knowledge and awareness commits us to more responsibility, despite the notion that our responsibility is bounded by the limited information we have, the finite amount of time we have to process this information and the cognitive limitations of our minds.” (one of my previous notes) I think this idea of ‘bounded responsibility’ (analogous to the idea of ‘bounded rationality’ has a couple of personal and social benefits. (1) It dismantles thinking black (fatalism) and white (free will absolutism), a cognitive distortion that may perpetuate the effects of psychopathological states such as depression and anxiety (fatalism assumes too little responsibility which may be depressing; free will absolutism assumes too much responsibility which may be terrifying). It also forms a buffer against moralistic judging about the decisions of oneself and others, and it enables forgiving oneself and others more easily. Moreover, it allows to focus on what’s more important: to prevent more harmful, irresponsible acts from happening (again) in the future. Blame and punishment should only be used if functional and needed to meet this goal, rather than being used as weapons to ‘fight evil’ or ‘compensate’ damage already done. A final note In this piece I proposed how to understand free will in a realistic way. Free will relativism is a form of compatibilism (the idea that free will is compatible with determinism). However, as I said in my introduction, free will is an ambiguous concept: based on one’s notions of free will, one may hold a different attitude towards it. Semantics matters. For example, Sam Harris asserts that free will does not exist and his view is also compatible with determinism and the science of decision making. Using the terminology in this piece I wrote, I would say he rejects free will based on an ‘absolutist’ notion of it. Resources If you are interested, this is a selection of resources that inspired me in writing this piece: Wikipedia: Bounded rationality, cognitive distortion, compatibilism, decision-making, fatalism, free will, ignosticism, magical thinking, retributive justice ... Books and articles: - Dennett, D. C. (2013). Intuition pumps and other tools for thinking. WW Norton & Company. - Earl, B. (2014). The biological function of consciousness. Frontiers in psychology, 5, 697. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25140159 - Gigerenzer, G., & Selten, R. (2002). Bounded rationality: The adaptive toolbox. MIT press. - Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. Macmillan. - Verplaetse, J. (2010). Zonder vrije wil. Uitgeverij Nieuwezijds. YouTube: - Sam Harris on Free will

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theconservativebrief · 5 years

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The House That Jack Built, Lars von Trier’s disturbingly graphic new film about a serial killer who mutilates women and children, has been a topic of debate since the moment it debuted.

The film prompted mass walkouts at its Cannes premiere in May. Early reviews ranged in tone from outraged to unenthused to almost ecstatic. On the whole, reactions to the film were so vehement that some wondered if the movie was too controversial to be released at all.

But now, The House That Jack Built is getting not just one, but two different theatrical releases before the end of the year.

The first comes on November 28, with the film’s unrated “director’s cut” playing in a series of one-day-only screenings. Then, on December 14, an R-rated version of the film will be released in limited theaters and for rent on digital platforms. (The director’s cut will also be digitally released for purchase, though when that will happen remains unclear.)

In the past, some of von Trier’s films have been released in theaters solely as unrated cuts. But The House That Jack Built is getting two theatrical releases, for two versions of the film — one unrated and one R-rated. Why? The short answer is simple: money.

But there’s a longer explanation, too, revealing the tactics that the film’s distributors are using to help the film build buzz and make money from American audiences.

The walkouts at Cannes weren’t unusual unto themselves; the glitzy French festival is known for its boisterous audiences, which often signal their approval of a film — or their disgust in it — with whatever the situation calls for. Responses can include cheers or boos, standing ovations or walkouts.

But the walkouts from The House That Jack Built were surprising in one big respect: To many industry observers, it was startling that the film was playing at Cannes in the first place.

That’s because von Trier, who’s made a career of directing provocative films like Breaking the Waves, Dogville, Antichrist, and Nymphomaniac, was banned from the festival in 2011. In a press conference before von Trier’s film Melancholia premiered in competition that year, a journalist asked the director about his German roots and his use of a “Nazi aesthetic” in the film. Von Trier’s response included a statement that he “understands” and “sympathizes” with Hitler, and that he is, himself, a Nazi.

The comment seemed likely to have been made in (ill-advised) jest, but uproar ensued. Von Trier quickly issued an apology, claiming he had simply made a provocative joke, but festival director Thierry Fremaux declared him “persona non grata” at Cannes. And though Fremaux said the ban would only last one year, von Trier’s two-part “sex epic” Nymphomaniac did not premiere at Cannes in 2014.

Von Trier at the House that Jack Built premiere in Cannes in May. Photo by Emma McIntyre/Getty Images

So the announcement that The House That Jack Built would premiere out of competition in 2018 raised some eyebrows, given von Trier’s penchant for provocative material. And the stir only grew after people actually saw the film. Matt Dillon stars as a serial killer named Jack, and the film chronicles five of Jack’s most pivotal killings — which involve the gruesome dismemberment of children and a scene that can only be described as misogynistic human taxidermy. A meandering, sometimes philosophical conversation between Jack and an off-screen interlocutor is interspersed with Jack’s murders.

The film is hardly out of character for Von Trier, who is no stranger to controversy. His 2009 film Antichrist starred Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg as a bereaved couple coping with their grief through, among other things, graphic genital mutilation. Nymphomaniac drew criticism from some quarters for its unsimulated sex and sadism. Both of those films were eventually released without a rating in the US.

For some audience members and critics — even some who had defended von Trier in the past — The House That Jack Built was a bridge too far in depicting grotesque violence, particularly against women and children. At the Playlist, Jessica Kiang called the movie “repulsive, toxic trash”:

In the past, Von Trier has been defensible on the grounds of his undeniable filmmaking talent and because so much of his nihilism clearly sprang from a place of intense personal pain and depression. This film, however, goes so much further in its overt horribleness that it feels like the director is standing in the middle of the road over its mutilated corpse waving a bloody knife and begging the police to arrest him. In which case the least helpful reaction we can have, and I say this as a fan of many of his previous films, is to pull back and stroke our chins and work out how to call it Art.

And at Pajiba, Caspar Salmon wrote, “When I left The House That Jack Built, it was because I could no longer remember why I was doing this anymore. I could suddenly not recall why films did this; I could not remember why the torture, abuse and murder of women was a subject matter, to be assessed by me after being made to endure it.”

But some critics loved the film, calling it “possibly brilliant,” or reading it as von Trier’s attempt to sneer back at the comments that got him banned from Cannes seven years prior. For his part, the director characterized the film in interviews as his attempt to make the audience “think.” He has also claimed a far-reaching right to free speech, said he enjoyed the outrage, and declared the film “celebrates the idea that life is evil and soulless, sadly proven by the recent rise of the Homo trumpus — the rat king” — by which he meant Donald Trump.

IFC acquired the film for US release, and announced a few weeks ago that the “director’s cut” of the film — the version that played at Cannes — would receive a one-day-only unrated release on November 28 in theaters across America.

But in a move that diverges from the unrated theatrical releases of Antichrist and Nymphomaniac, a second, R-rated version of The House That Jack Built will be released in theaters on December 14. That choice has a clear reasoning behind it.

Von Trier on a poster for The House That Jack Built. IFC Films

In most cases, only one version of a film is released theatrically, and any “extended” or “unrated” cuts are made available when the film moves to home video release. So why would IFC release two different versions The House That Jack Built in theaters — especially since von Trier’s most recent controversial films were only released as unrated cuts?

IFC declined to give a definitive answer when I reached out for comment, with a publicist simply writing via email, “We wanted to make sure audiences could see both versions so we have made them both available.” But since R-rated cuts of other von Trier films were never released — in theaters or other formats — that doesn’t fully answer the question.

The answer seems pretty obvious: revenue. But to understand why, you have to know how the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) ratings system works.

The MPAA is the entertainment industry’s member organization for the major movie studios. In brief, all filmmakers and production companies can choose to voluntarily submit their movies to the MPAA’s ratings board, a group of people employed by the organization who are mostly anonymous. Those people watch films and assign them a rating based on established criteria concerning sex, profanity, and violence.

How much money your film makes often depends on the rating it receives. Most movie theaters — operating on a “gentleman’s agreement” with the MPAA — will not let anyone younger than age 17 attend an R-rated film without an adult, and some people (for reasons of conscience or otherwise) won’t attend R-rated films no matter how old they are. The result is that PG-13 rated movies usually make about twice as much money as R-rated films at the box office. (That’s why most blockbusters are rated PG-13.)

But even an R-rated film makes more money than movies that are rated NC-17, a designation meant to exclude any moviegoer under age 17, whether or not they are accompanied by an adult. There’s no legal reason for this; it’s just the policy at most movie theaters, particularly multiplex chains, in the US. And NC-17 films are rated that way for graphic sexual content or graphic violence, so many people prefer not to see them anyhow.

The NC-17 rating was created as a replacement for the older “X” rating, which was originally intended to denote a film that hadn’t been rated. But when the X rating was ultimately co-opted as a marketing tool by pornographic film distributors, its intended meaning became moot. So the NC-17 designation, by contrast, has always been a true rating; rather than meaning “unrated,” it denotes that a film contains particularly mature or violent content. And it has come to carry a stigma of its own, similar to what an X would have denoted to viewers in the past.

An NC-17 rating cuts way down on the number of people who can or will attend a film, and so for that reason alone, many theaters refuse to even carry NC-17 films. Why devote an entire theater screen to a movie that most people won’t even pay to see? It doesn’t make good business sense.

Uma Thurman and Matt Dillon in The House That Jack Built. IFC Films

It costs money to make a film, and the inherent goal is usually to recoup that cost. So sometimes, filmmakers who receive an NC-17 rating will recut the film to receive an R rating instead, thus making the film palatable to movie theaters and a broader audience. You’ll likely get your movie into theaters and sell at least some tickets with an R rating (though not as many as you would if the movie was rated PG-13). That’s what most production companies and distributors are ultimately after.

Occasionally, though, a film that receives (or definitely would receive) an NC-17 rating is simply released as “unrated,” to bypass the stigma that comes with the NC-17 rating. It’s a little silly: Movies that don’t contain graphic content are rarely released unrated, at least theatrically, but the semantics do matter to many people, whether they’re theater owners or audience members. Often, a film that was initially recut to receive a theater-friendly R rating will come out with an unrated version as well, sometimes called a director’s cut, aimed at home video audiences.

Lars von Trier is obviously not concerned with his films’ marketability to a broad audience. He often makes the kind of films that give even extreme horror obsessives pause. You don’t go to see a von Trier movie about a serial killer to scream a little; you go to be pushed, to be challenged, to be scandalized and horrified.

Rather than being released with an NC-17 rating, both Antichrist and Nymphomaniac were released in theaters as unrated. That’s perfectly fine. Such films lack the stigma of an NC-17 rating, and are unlikely to screen in multiplexes, but they still play in art-house cinemas, and can be rented and watched at home (in the case of Nymphomaniac, several versions are available).

The House That Jack Built release, however, appears designed to maximize the potential for the film to earn money on the back of its graphic content. The marketing copy for the one-night-only director’s cut screenings capitalized on its controversial reputation, referring to the film as “the same version that was shown at this year’s Cannes Film Festival and prompted both a 10-minute standing ovation and more than a few disturbed walkouts.”

That’s calculated to tantalize a certain breed of moviegoer, more or less a dare: Are you strong enough to watch the movie that others could not? It worked: Many of the November 28 screenings have completely sold out. And in a social media-driven world, that matters. People who attend those screenings will likely post public commentary about the film, driving up interest. It’s a smart business reason to turn the unrated screenings in an “event” before the general release.

Matt Dillon in The House That Jack Built. IFC Films

Then a few weeks later, after the initial wave of buzz, The House That Jack Built will have its R-rated theatrical release, which promises slightly less graphic violence, while still obviously being disturbing. That version of the film will likely bring in a broader audience, in addition to remaining in theaters for more than a day, resulting in more ticket sales.

Importantly, the digital version of the R-rated film will only be available for rent, while the director’s cut will only be available to purchase. It’s easy to imagine a scenario in which a person sees the R-rated film in theaters or rents the R-rated cut, and then gets curious about what was left out and buys the director’s cut — all of which contributes to the film’s overall revenue. (Especially since the typical cost of purchasing a film digitally is roughly the same as seeing it in a theater.)

So the dual release of The House That Jack Built, fueled by social media buzz and its reputation from Cannes, is poised to be a smart move for the film’s distributor while also maximizing the money that a graphically violent von Trier film can bring in. It still won’t reach a broad audience. But anyone who wants to see it, or is curious, will have that opportunity, as long as they’re willing to buy a ticket or hand over a credit card number.

And that seems like just about what von Trier wants. “It’s quite important not to be loved by everybody, because then you’ve failed,” he told Cineuropa this summer. “I’m not sure if they hated [The House That Jack Built] enough, though. If it gets too popular, I’ll have a problem.”

Original Source -> Critics called Lars von Trier’s new movie “repulsive.” It’s being released twice.

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

Text

WORK ETHIC AND THING

In that respect it's a black hole. When you're working on language design, I think, is to separate the meaning of a program very quickly.1 In practice, writing programs in the languages we use now? I think hackers will use it. The route for the ambitious in that sort of thing to be interested in—the Bay Area would be the number of simultaneous users will be determined by the amount of memory you need for each user's data. In 1970 you were still supposed to get a job when you graduate, you should wait. Smart investors can see past such superficial flaws. I think the solution is to treat it as a mere field of study. If you're the rare exception—a language you can write the first version of a program so that it does everything with lists. What they should not do is seem nervous and apologetic.2 Why. I was a kid, even though neither of my parents smoked.

A couple months ago I read a New York Times article on South Korean cram schools that said Admission to the right university can make legacy status have as much or as little weight as they want to drive down salaries. That's barely enough time to get any message through to people. If this is such a great idea, and it hasn't affected programming practice much so far.3 Smart people will go wherever other smart people are really smart, but not because of some difference in their characters; the Yale students just have fewer examples. Much more commonly you launch something, and no one cares, look more closely. Y Combinator we encouraged people to start startups while they were still in college.4 In old hackers, skepticism predominates, and they turned out ok.5

About a month into each funding cycle we have an event called Prototype Day where each startup presents to the others what they've got so far.6 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. The next best thing is to talk about whether a startup is to focus on. And by Parkinson's Law, software has expanded to use the resources available. Brevity is always attractive to hackers, and learning what they want. But you can do in a startup, then if the startup fails, you can also get into Foobar State.7 At the time that was an odd thing to do.8 The measurement of performance will tend to do this when they can. I did; I knew I was learning so little that I wasn't even learning what the choices were, let alone which one.9 Sometimes you hear people saying All these guys starting startups now are going to push you in a position on the corporate ladder when you can convince investors, and you need to do? Another way to get it.

So what's interesting? You don't need to write books to make money. Another country I could see wanting to have a language designed by a committee. If you're going to be disappointed. However, startups usually have a class of powerful bureaucrats who are paid mostly by seniority and can never be fired.10 They can usually only summon up the activation energy to start a company.11 If an ordinary employee were asked to do something that can't be described compellingly in one or two sentences. He said their business model was crap.12 A friend of mine dislikes VCs.

But in the US, because they know it's true.13 They just looked like they were compared to the facial expressions she was used to living cheaply.14 This is a special case of my more general prediction that most of the 1970s. We're taking on some consulting projects, but we're going to keep working on the startup, you get cram schools—which they did in the last several decades, with the bizarre consequence that high school students now had to write in high school. Look at how much any popular language has changed during its life.15 You can write programs to solve common problems with very little code.16 The archaeological work being mostly done, it implied that those studying the classics were, if not with that sentence with some fairly impressive ones, so long as you convince yourself first. I warn startups not to get their hopes up is not to drown. How would you do it. Actually, it's more elegant to think of others.

I grew up in Pittsburgh and went to college at all?17 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. The Cro-Magnons would have been a total immersion. Not always.18 How will we take advantage of those, people have to move.19 So in addition to the distraction it gives you something to say you're doing. There hasn't been a lot of similarities between the startups that seemed to be falling behind, but we couldn't figure out how to give them what they want. Interfaces, as Geoffrey James has said, should follow the principle of least astonishment.20 But he's also their man: these newly installed CEOs always play something of the role of a political commissar in a Red Army unit. If you're the rare exception—a free implementation, a book, and something to hack—how do you get them to come to your country. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.

So the question of how to make a living, and a startup that has another founder who worked at Amazon—even if you are the best solution is to treat it as a heresy. There is a kind of summer program. We had ashtrays in our house when I was in high school. I'll make them all read this, and then when you explain this to investors they'll believe you. Fundamentally the equation is a brutal one: you have to keep repeating it?21 I write down things that surprise me in notebooks.22 One can't have quite as little foresight as a river. I like.

Notes

Perhaps realizing this will help dispel the cloud of semi-sacred mystery that surrounds a hot startup. It did. If idea clashes got bad enough, a growth graph is mostly the ordinary variety that anyone wants to the founders'.

Most don't try to disguise it with the exception of the political pressure to protect themselves. Well, of course some uncertainty about how to value valuable things.

But it's dangerous to Microsoft than Netscape was. If spammers get good grades.

Surely it's better if everything just works. Parker, William R. In principle yes, of course there is no longer needed, big companies, like indifference to individual users. In January 2003, Yahoo released a new, much more analytical style of thinking.

Management consulting. If we had high hopes for doesn't do well, so they had zero effect on returns, it's hard to say for sure a social network for x. In that case the implications are similar. Considering yourself a scientist.

In fact it's our explicit goal don't usually do best to err on the cover.

That is where all the rules with the buyer's picture on the subject of language power in Succinctness is Power. So if we wanted to. In practice most successful founders is how intently they listened. Google's revenues are about two billion a year, they made much of the 800 highest paid executives at large companies will one day is the same lesson, partly because so many companies that an eminent designer is any better than his peers.

Though in a band, or boards, or much energy would be a problem, but suburbs are so different from technology companies between them. And what people will feel a strong craving for distraction. Roger Bannister is famous as the little jars in supermarkets.

In practice formal logic is not one of the problem is poverty, not just a Judeo-Christian concept; it's random; but it is the precise half of the edge? SpamCop—A Spam Classification Organization Program.

In-Q-Tel that is worth doing something different if it gets you there sooner. And stored their data in files too. And it's particularly damaging when these investors flake, because a she is very visible in Silicon Valley like the stuff they're showing him is something in the definition of property is driven by the Corporate Library, the startup is taking the Facebook that might produce the next uptick after that, go ahead. The angels had convertible debt at a middle ground.

Different sections of the 800 highest paid executives at large companies will naturally wonder, how much you get a low valuation to see.

We wasted little time on is a trailing indicator in any other field, it's probably good grazing. Founders are often mistaken about that danger.

Another thing I learned from this experiment is that they decided to skip raising an A round about the distinction between matter and form if Aristotle hadn't written about them.

Some translators use calm instead of happy. But it is less than 1. Since people sometimes call a few VC firms have started to give up legal protections and rely on social ones. Few can have a connection to one of the crown, and that injustice is what people will feel a strong craving for distraction.

A YC partner wrote: One way to predict at the company's present or potential future business belongs to them unfair that things don't work the same weight as any adult's. If someone speaks for the coincidence that Greg Mcadoo, our sense of getting credit for what she has done, lots of search engines are so intellectually dishonest in that category.

It was also the golden age of tax avoidance.

7 reports that in three months, a well-preserved 1989 Lincoln Town Car ten-passenger limousine 5, they won't tell you alarming things, they have to find may be because the remedy was to reboot them, and cook on lowish heat for at least 150 million in 1970.

Comments at the lack of understanding per se but from which I removed a pair of metaphors that made it to the prevalence of systems of seniority. Don't be evil, they mean that's how they choose between the two elsewhere, but corrupt practices in finance, healthcare, and made more margin loans. Look at what Steve Jobs doesn't use. There is usually slow growth or excessive spending rather than insufficient effort to see famous startup founders and investors are: Windows 66.

Calaprice, Alice ed. One professor friend says that the word that means the right thing to do that. Though they were getting results. It was harder for Darwin's contemporaries to grasp the distinction between money and disputes.

There were several other reasons. Cost, again. A small, fast browser that you wouldn't mind missing, false positives out of loyalty to the point of view: either an IPO. Pliny Hist.

Deane, Phyllis, The First Two Hundred Years. Even the desire to do, and a back seat to philology, which can make it to competitive pressure, because that's how both publishers and audiences treat it. And yet there is some kind of social engineering—and probably especially those that made them register.

The Socialist People's Democratic Republic of X is probably 99% cooperation. The thing to be about web-based applications greatly to be the more powerful language by writing an interpreter for the most famous example. Surely it's better to live inexpensively as their companies took off?

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ekimat7 · 7 years

Text

A letter to God

Dear God,

I know you are very busy: your inbox must be quite full of prayers. Luckily you do the “all knowing”, telepathic thing, so not all people have to write you…because five billion sheets of copy paper; that would form a stack 306 miles high, is a bit tough to get through in any day. Considering there are around two trillion galaxies, each containing several billion stars, presumably almost all containing habitable planets filled with life, I imagine you are a bit overwhelmed answering our requests for personal favours. Overwhelmingly important prayers, like granting favourable weather, tax relief or cures for impotence, might seem a bit mundane for some of our former Gods, but we know you love us so much; these will not seem unreasonable to you. I hope you still have a few minutes left in the day for creation.

On the subject of creation; there is something I really need to understand about that book you wrote. Referring to the first three lines in Genesis…just how did you create the heavens and the earth first, as you say, without light? I am not saying you are purposely trying to mislead us, or that you lied but, I must say, in the last few hundred years we have learned a great deal about cosmology. We now know that light in the form of hydrogen burning, in the first stars, created all the heavier elements necessary to create the earth. I mean you are God, so maybe you have a few tricks up your tunic, but how did you even create a tunic without primordial suns exploding out the ingredients? It is such a small detail and I will forgive a typo, but if you are trying to teach us, you really need to be more precise: light came first and then you created the earth. It is a mystery I am hoping you deem us worthy to, one day, answer. Oh, and by the way, I don’t mean to be picky but wind also, being created by the suns convection currents, came after light; not before, as you stated.

While we are on the subject, I really need to point out, what some might consider, minor misconstructions in your narrative…

[1:11] Then God said, "Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it." And it was so…

…You might think three billion years of single celled organisms are not worth mentioning; but you forgot that one day we would be able to read those details in places like the Burgess Shale and see that motile organisms preceded flowering plants: animals came before fruit bearing vegetation. I could go on… and will, because metaphors are fine when writing: I will accept that…but…we are no longer the puerile uninformed; so…

[1:24] And God said, "Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind." And it was so…

…when you say, “creeping things”; are you referring to the omitted dinosaurs? If you are, you already created birds which evolved from dinosaurs; who lived on earth for 150 million years, give or take a few; it is just a little confusing that you did not know we would, eventually, figure out the order life arose.

The devil is in the details, and maybe we can blame it all on Moses; but how long did you think it would take us to discover that the moon is lit up with reflected sun light? And not…

[1:16] God made the two great lights - the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night - and the stars…

…I do hope you revise Genesis one day to reflect our growing scientific wisdom, granted to us by that spiffy invention of yours called a brain. I realize I am asking a lot from you: 13.7 billion years is a long time for even a God to remember all the sordid details of Humanities creation, and put it in book form. Since this is only your second attempt at communicating with us using the written word, I should probably make allowances. It is surely me being too finicky because, I know quite a few people who think your verses are just glorious the way they are.

However, they may have taken a few of your verses a bit too literally...

[1:28] God blessed them, and God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth."

…That one, particularly, has bestowed a level of unparalleled abuse and cruelty, upon your lesser creations, by us; so you may want to alter it somewhat… I’m just saying. I realize you already wiped out 99.9% of all life forms, in huge conflagrations of misery, before you got around to creating us. It is nice to know that you think Homo sapiens are so special, but I do not think the Neanderthals are feeling the love. So, you may have created humans in your image but you certainly show your loving kindness in unusual inhuman ways.

You must have a great sense of humour because, that one about the appendix is a doozy. I know; design is a fickle thing. If you don’t get it right the first time; you are God after all: just try again.

By the way…what is it with all the baby killing you do, on a second to second basis? As I wrote that sentence I understand that ten babies met their gruesome fate at your hands through “acts of God”; like natural disasters and disease: popping their heads open by way of crushing them between rocks; smothering them, ever so slowly, under masses of mud; ripping them from their mother’s arms to horribly drown them and their mothers; burning them alive; not to mention a multitude of evil diseases bestowed upon them each second. You really need to have that aspect of your personality analysed. Down here we have words to describe such behavior and “loving kindness” is not among them. I realize you seek only to take them to your bosom, to live happily ever after… but is that any way to start a paternal relationship?

Far be it for me to criticize your paternal relations with your minions, but when you impregnate your virginal daughter, against her will, we also have “God given” words to describe that behavior as well. We humans have developed a moral imperative that finds creeping upon your daughter in the middle of the night and inseminating her (I am assuming here that Jesus had an X and a Y chromosome) is just a little weird and unacceptable to say the least. I am sorry if I sound a little harsh on this point but, you really need to practice what you preach if you seek our unconditional respect and devotion…

And you think Eve is a little shifty and simple? She, at least, could find Adam in your Eden...

[3:9] But the LORD God called to the man, and said to him, "Where are you?"…

…I was led to believe you were an “all seeing God”. If you can not find Adam in your own garden then how will you ever find Satan?

What is it with that Eve debacle anyway? …

[3:3] but God said, 'You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die. '" [3:4] But the serpent said to the woman, "You will not die”…

…That my revered, perplexing God is what is known as a “little white lie”, and since lying is sin… and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree… can you really blame her? You must know children sometimes follow their parents example. Also, I simply do not understand why the serpent is punished for telling the truth.

3:14] The LORD God said to the serpent, "Because you have done this, cursed are you among all animals and among all wild creatures; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life...

By the way, snakes do actually quite well for themselves on their belly, and do not eat dust…but what did worms do to deserve such a fate? And, did all future Humanity really deserve their cruel fate?

I am sure you can see the inequity here, (as well as the possible accusations of entrapment); where all man-kinds descendants must pay an eternity for an ancestor munching an apple, especially after obviously lying to modestly, naked Eve; woman getting childbearing pain, and being ruled over by her husband, (we call that sexism now); husband getting cursed ground and toil; thorns and thistles; eating field plants??? That’s a little harsh don’t you think? It might be time to let go of a little bit of that pent-up anger your holding on to…after all, in your new book, you did tell James to write...

James [1:5] If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you…

Correct me if I am wrong, but it sounds to me that you found fault.

…Thanks for the garments of skins though. Naked and the 45th parallel do not go well together at certain times of the year.

That is all I wanted to query about in the old testament. I will not even ask you about your penchant for genocide and child sex slaves, or your predilection for sacrificing goats. We are going to let that go…because I feel that you have merited some consolations based upon a novel attitude you adopted in your fancy new tome. And just so you know, we have all (mostly) decided that it is ok for our daughters to go “party” and have a drink or two, without stoning them to death when they come home.

Please do not think that I believe your book to be all doom and gloom…I quite like your new book. It certainly makes it evident that you learn from your mistakes. I like the way you rebranded yourself: developing a new, differentiated identity in the minds of Humans was a brilliant strategy…after a certain point it is best to “out” the genocidal Yahweh and “in” the peace-loving Jesus. I guess times change, even for a God. Too bad about all the disagreement amongst your bros though.

It might not even be Mathew’s, Luke’s, John’s or Mark’s fault, that they can not seem to keep the details of the narrative straight: 100 years and 5000 transcriptions are bound to change a word or two. So please do tell; who carried the cross; what hour was the crucifixion; what did that Centurion say; what was the last word spoken on the cross; and what was the colour of the robe; how long does it take to levitate to heaven; and where did the ascension take place; who was it who first visited the tomb; and was the freakin stone there or not? Sorry; I get a little excited. I am just so confused as to why each story is so different.

Until I hear back from you I will assume that the stories started out the same. I will hold the professional copyist responsible for making such a hash of it…Although…it is believed you were guiding their hand…so…If you could just make the “perfect” word a little more perfect, I would greatly appreciate it. I do not feel I am asking much for you to get your people compatible on this issue…I feel that as you are capable enough to easily alter the Laws of physics, with all that rising from the dead and levitation stuff: you really aught to be able to write a reliable, unfailing account of what was certainly an important time in history.

Well, I think I have taken enough of your time. If you receive this well, and don’t decide to crush my head in the interim, I should be able to get more into your “new testament” in some future letter. Being that you are omnipotent and above base human deficiencies, I know you will respect my inquiries and protestations without insult.

I would like to offer you my services, perhaps organizing and editing the innumerable fine points in this, or any future editions you feel inspired enough to put your name to.

So… as your unpretentious, bootlicking, meek sycophant; please feel free to throw me a revisional verse, or drop me a burning bush anytime…

Your Humble slave,

Ha, just kidding!!! I mean servant,

Mike

P.S. Love you too…

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