#they have a lot of history that’s hard to delve into in one sitting and I’m sure there’s a lot I left out
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Gene Cousineau: “Little Sally Reed from Joplin, Missouri. What do you want?”
Sally Reed: “To be an actress … it’s all I ever wanted in the whole world.”
This quick exchange introduces Barry’s audience to Sally (Sarah Goldberg) in the series premiere. Her passionate, teary plea rings normally at first glance; she’s a small-town girl with wide-eyed Hollywood dreams. Aw, shucks. Over four seasons, HBO’s grim comedy ingeniously peels back layers to unveil Sally’s discombobulating, deeply human personality. Her unlikable traits—selfish, gravely insecure, a knack for walking over people (including seemingly naive aspiring actor Barry Block)—remain intact as the show nears its end.
By now, though, we know these qualities stem from a marred past: a rotten home life, previous spousal abuse, and a gnawing lack of confidence she desperately wants to cover up. Barry rarely excuses her entitled behavior but slowly sheds light on how her illusory front is a coping mechanism. No wonder she makes the short-lived Joplin as an outlet to process her tragedies. What’s worse? She barely gets time to exist in the world she creates after working hard to achieve it. As it turns out, Sally is the ultimate portrait of trauma in Bill Hader and Alec Berg’s stellar series, which wraps on May 28.
Sally Reed was probably never going to have a happy ending. It’s not because she prioritizes her lofty career ambitions, pushing away anything that gets in the way. Goldberg plays Sally’s goals with such enthusiasm it usually borders on mania, even when she’s sympathetic. It’s a shame she hasn’t won an Emmy for her wrenching yet funny performance. Remember her season two monologue when Barry (Hader) auditions for Jay Roach? Or her season three “entitled fucking cunt” breakdown in the elevator that Natalie (D’Arcy Carden) shares with the world, leading to her downfall? But the professional blinders Sally’s had on for most of Barry’s run is what limits her in the end.
As if her traumatic history wasn’t enough, her entanglement with Barry Berkman worsens everything. He breezes into her life one fine day, drawn into her safe space, when he catches her rehearsing outside Gene’s (Henry Winkler) studio while on a mission. Barry finds solace in it, attracted to the idea of shedding his skin to inhabit somebody who doesn’t have PTSD or a laundry list of crimes. It’s enough to get him hoping for a fresh start. That’s also what Sally hoped for when she moved to Los Angeles after finally leaving her abusive husband, Sam (Joe Massingill).
Season four delves into why Sally deserved to leave her Joplin jail. Sam isn’t the only reason. Her mother is dismissive, flat-out refusing to believe her ex abused Sally, nor does she care that her daughter’s boyfriend is arrested for murder in L.A. “Big whoop” isn’t exactly the expected maternal reaction, and her nice-guy father doesn’t have anything valuable to add, either. It’s clear from the final season’s early episodes that Sally doesn’t have anyone—anyone except for an imprisoned Barry. Her admittance to him in this season’s “bestest place on earth,” that she feels safest with him, is a devastating reality chec
Hader and Goldberg, sitting feet away, separated by a glass barrier, deliver a potent performance in a scene that sells their toxic attachment. She can write all the one-act plays and TV shows she wants, but Barry’s grievously absorbed her identity just when you (and everyone around her) thought she was free of it. Their confrontation in jail is a turning point for the show’s final installments. Her shaky confession sets Barry’s brain aflame. He teams up with the FBI, makes an enemy out of NoHo Hank (Anthony Carrigan), and escapes prison during a shootout. Ultimately, it launches a new life for the duo in the middle of a barren landscape where they don new identities and shed their skins. Just like the dream, huh?
Barry’s final season jumps eight years ahead with a full picture in episode five, “tricky legacies.” It glimpses into the dreary monotony of Barry and Sally, who go by Clark and Emily now. They shield their child from the real world. It doesn’t mean Sally’s not seething under Emily’s mask. Her pain follows her because she chose to give up the one thing that mattered: her acting dream. Having experienced a shitty upbringing, she passes along the intergenerational trauma to John by parenting similarly to her mom—indifferent, indignant, and inebriated. She doesn’t know where to start nurturing.
It’s not like Barry’s childhood was a prize, so neither of them is good at this, but Sally is on a whole other level. She drops alcohol in his juice to put him to sleep, serves up burnt lunches, and generally wrestles with how to love this human being she gave birth to. In Sally’s expressions, Goldberg displays a tangible aversion to motherhood, a full-bodied disdain for the life they’re responsible for creating. So yes, in a twisted way, she’s a copy of her parent now. It’s a full circle.
Everyone on Barry is haunted by their actions, especially with the time jump, so Sally isn’t an exception, of course. Barry wreaked absolute havoc. Gene lost Janice Moss (Paula Newsome), ruined his legacy, and now reappears to chase fame again. As seen in episode six, “the wizard,” Hank has grown a successful business, but had to kill the love of his life to do it. Fuches’ (Stephen Root) friendship with Barry turns sour as he morphs into the Raven. Yet, Sally’s regression is agonizing because she was a lick away from gaining everything she wanted. Instead, she ponders torturing her network boss, kills a man in self-defense, and runs back home, only for everything to crumble again. All this while witnessing Oscar winner Sian Heder work with her mentee, Kristen (Ellyn Jameson), and watching Natalie soar.
Now, she’s drunk and being tortured (note Hader’s prolific direction in “the wizard”) as a man in a ski mask figure shakes up their trailer home. She’s permanently haunted. Janice’s father has captured her partner, and all she can do is call him repeatedly, begging him to come back. With two episodes of Barry remaining, Sally is left alone in her cage to care for John. Does she head back to her hometown to complete the cycle? Or will she return to the city of dreams to find Barry and maybe accomplish the only thing she wants to be in this world? Either way, Sally might not realize it, but she’s already played the role of a lifetime now. It’s wish fulfillment in the worst and most tragic possible way.
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Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: SOTUS S and Our Skyy x SOTUS Edition
[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I’ll cover SOTUS S and Our Skyy x SOTUS, to close out this series and the KristSingto ship.]
Listen -- I did it to myself. All in the midst of my absolute INSANITY for Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy this week, and Our Skyy 2 x ATOTS next week. I did all this to myself! My mind’s mush.
For some reason, as I was scrolling through MDL last month, I thought my OGMMTVC watchlist wasn’t complete if I didn’t finish the rest of the series of GMMTV’s first HUGE BL in SOTUS (2016). A lot of my priorities regarding learning about the history of Thai BLs have changed over the course of this project, and the watchlist has definitely expanded from @absolutebl‘s original three suggested BLs to watch to understand the old GMMTV brand of BLs. And, as I’m inching ever closer to He’s Coming To Me (2019) -- I realized that there would be quite the gap in my seeing the development of Singto Prachaya as an actor from when he first premiered in SOTUS to HCTM. I felt that, in order to be REALLY prepared to become a SUPER FAN of HCTM -- I needed to freshen up on my Singto.
What I wanted to see was -- could he save the franchise at all, simply by way of his acting? As ABL Sensei noted about the original SOTUS -- it was problematic enough to be emblematic of a style of BL that GMMTV is now moving away from.
From that point of view? I’m honestly VERY glad I finished out SOTUS as a franchise. I think it was hugely important for the OGMMTVC project, and for me to understand what GMMTV was experimenting with, and how the channel slowly developed with more expertise in making BLs and/or queer media over the course of the last eight years, particularly under the production eye of Aof Noppharnach as he took more control of GMMTV’s BL steering wheel. It was worth it for me to take the pain of dealing with Krist’s acting again, and as many of the WONDERFUL Tumblr family noted for me: SOTUS S and Our Skyy x SOTUS were by far easier to watch than SOTUS.
So -- I’m making a few assumptions, since I don’t concretely know the detailed history -- by the time SOTUS S comes out, KristSingto are an established pair. Fans are likely chomping for more (and spending more), and SOTUS S comes through as a means of continuing Arthit and Kongpob’s relationship.
Fam, all of you were right. Our Skyy x SOTUS was WAY, WAY better than either of the seasons of SOTUS.
SOTUS S was fine. It reminded me of the Korean period dramas I used to watch as a young woman when they first started airing in America, ones that I’d watch with my mom. Lots of, like, sitting at long tables with your trusted war advisors on how to take over the Goryeo dynasties. SOTUS S was like a Japanese work drama, where like, the STORY of the WORK is PART of the POINT of the drama (maybe a little like Step By Step right now? I think it’s always hard to create DRAMA around, like, a WORK PROJECT, but anyway. Minor quibble.).
Whatever. As with the original SOTUS: it took fucking FOREVER in SOTUS S to get to the meat of the story of where the relationship was landing with Arthit and Kong.
But let me give Krist a little credit. After Arthit got used to Kong being an intern at the company -- I will say that I felt Krist, in his acting, loosened up a bit. A little wink here, an actual smile there. Instead of playing defense at the baseline, Arthit/Krist started hitting some shots at the net. (I see he’s “loosening up” even more right now in Be My Favorite... yeah? I dunno, I ain’t watchin’ that.)
Did I feel like Krist’s betterment in acting was in response to Singto’s acting? Not... quite. Not yet.
Once I watched Our Skyy x SOTUS, I realized a couple of things. The style of workshopping that GMMTV BL actors go through NOW, CLEARLY didn’t exist at the time of SOTUS. I felt like SOTUS and SOTUS S WERE the workshop for these two.
And then Our Skyy premieres, and I’m like -- OHHHHHHHHHH. OH! Krist kinda has it in him to pull out some real acting!
The Our Skyy episode also had 1) great structure, 2) a CONCISE and CRISP storyline, and 3) SHARP dialogue. It didn’t seem like these guys needed to IMPROV their emotions, the way that Krist DID, and seemed to STRUGGLE to do in the first two seasons.
But most importantly, for me -- in relation to what I said about Singto earlier -- I realized something about Singto. Like I said in my review of the original SOTUS -- Krist could not catch what Singto was throwing.
I think in SOTUS S, Singto... didn’t give up, per se. He just STILL didn’t HAVE the means by which to ACT RESPONSIVELY to someone who WASN’T RESPONDING to him. I didn’t see Singto grow, at all, in his role in SOTUS S. He was still the same seme automaton. And there’s a problem with that, I think. I could not see, AGAIN, for the LIFE of me, why Kong would be ATTRACTED to Arthit -- EVEN IF Krist were playing Arthit as a very held-back, stuffy type. Kong/Singto radiated with energy and a POTENTIAL of love -- and watching them interact in SOTUS S was like watching the emanation of an incorrect math equation.
I was surprised. I thought I’d see more development, more flexibility, more comfort in the role of Kong. Both Arthit and Kong seemed to be playing their robotic TYPES.
Not so in Our Skyy. Finally. The guys seemed looser. I felt this most greatly after Kong cooked Arthit breakfast, and Arthit scoffs (as usual) away from Kong’s affections. And Singto/Kong opens his arms for a hug.
FINALLY. Wordless communication! IT WAS GREAT. And the message of the hug -- we don’t know if this will be our last hug, so let’s hug and make it count -- it was a great and meaningful message.
If I had to get through SOTUS S to get to that moment, and to see these two be able to share well-acted emotion by the time of Our Skyy -- I would argue, for my sake and sanity, that it was worth it for this project. Because that ship/pair was so important for early BL. I had to think that there HAD to be some art, AT SOME POINT, between those two, and we got just a taste in Our Skyy.
I want to think, and to say, that for GMMTV -- that may have been a bit of a breakthrough moment, that Our Skyy x SOTUS episode. Many of those other first Our Skyy moments, like Puppy Honey and Kiss The Series/Kiss Me Again -- those were appendages to existing series where the BL aspect was secondary. I think that wordless communication, the emotion and the hug from Kong and Arthit, mayyyyybe potentially showed that, hey -- we can create a bit of a foundation of emotional art here, with this format.
Some quick other thoughts on SOTUS S and Our Skyy before I move on:
1) I liked Cherry. Yes -- a femme-ish character set up for the laughs. But Cherry wasn’t designed nearly as problematically as the femme characters of Love Sick. I think, by adding Cherry, that the writers of SOTUS were beginning to acknowledge that their brand of BL NEEDED to step its toe into queer recognition -- especially considering that other shows that had aired around the time of SOTUS (namely Make It Right) dealt with queerness so head on.
2) WHERE WAS NAMMON IN OUR SKYY??? Come awn! He and Guy Sivakorn had AMAZING chemistry! (Guy Sivakorn, y’all, great GMMTV stable guy!)
3) I REALLY LOVED SEEING KONG’S CLASSMATES in Our Skyy, even for a second. All the homies with their flashy hair. I felt total nostalgia for all of them during SOTUS S and Our Skyy.
4) Durian’s outing of Kong and Arthit was bullshit. THAT was problematic AF. Judgy and shady.
5) Oh, speaking of non-continued couples: no Earth and Tod in Our Skyy. Dang. I thought Earth would come around. (The whole SOTUS franchise REALLY left couples hanging. Remember Prem and Wad?? Wtf! Graveyard of potential!)
Anyway. Listen. I don’t really consider this review over until I watch He’s Coming To Me. I now need to see Singto in a pairing with an actor who ACTS RESPONSIVELY, who is able to CATCH what Singto is PRESENTING.
I will admit Krist DRASTICALLY improved, even from SOTUS S to Our Skyy.
BUT. I now know, from Make It Right and Bad Buddy, that few actors can hold like Ohm Pawat in BLs (but I’ve yet to get familiar with Gun, and I can’t wait to do some talent comparisons between the gold stars of GMMTV soon enough).
And that’s what I’m looking forward to watching -- the SUBVERSION of a huge ship for the SAKE of getting two damn talented actors together for what I know will be a fucking gem of a show in HCTM. I cannot wait to get to it, and it’ll be really soon.
[Alright! On to Love By Chance, with darling Perth Tanapon and my first ride with Saint Suppakong. I’ve mentioned this here and there, but many thanks to the WONDERFUL @bengiyo for filling me in on all the deets of the break-up of the PerthSaint ship. As I get closer to He’s Coming To Me, understanding Perth’s and Ohm’s reputations -- especially as I close out watching Double Savage this week, and understanding how their ship subversions affected their careers in and out of BLs -- is super helpful context.
Here’s the list as it stands. As I said last week, I’ll definitely be a touch delayed with LBC, as I’ll be likely watching and rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS (x ATOTS??) and Our Skyy 2 x ATOTS (x BBS??!?) this week and next. BUT STILL, WE PLUG ALONG! And one tiny little change: because this project is so inspired by my passion for the art and the history of Bad Buddy, I’m including a full BBS and Our Skyy 2 x BBS rewatch as a means of honoring this whole undertaking.
As always, I’ll take any input or recommendations from all of you LOVELY family!
1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here)
2) Make It Right (2016) (review here)
3) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here)
4) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here)
5) Together With Me (2017) (review here)
6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018)
7) Love By Chance (2018) (watching)
8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018)
9) He’s Coming To Me (2019)
10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019)
11) TharnType (2019)
12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (I’m watching this out of order just to get familiar with OffGun before Theory of Love -- will likely not review)
13) Theory of Love (2019)
14) Dew the Movie (2019) (not an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but I want to watch this in chronological order with everything else)
15) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020)
16) 2gether (2020)
17) Still 2gether (2020)
18) I Told Sunset About You (2020)
19) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche)
20) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here)
21) I Promised You the Moon (2021)
22) Not Me (2021-2022)
23) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here)
24) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch
25) Secret Crush On You (2022) [watching for Cheewin’s trajectory of studying queer joy from Make It Right (high school), to SCOY (college), to Bed Friend (working adults)]
26) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here)
27) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here)
28) My School President (2022-2023)
29) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here)
30) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) (Cheewin’s latest show, depicting a queer joy journey among working adults)]
#sotus s#sotus s the series#our skyy x sotus#arthit x kong#kong x arthit#singto prachaya#krist perawat#turtles catches up with the essential BLs#turtles catches up with thai BLs#turtles catches up with old gmmtv#the old gmmtv challenge#ogmmtvc#sotus
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The timing of this poll popping up on my dash is really interesting because in our last session, my therapist asked if I would be okay sending him some of my ofmd fanfic.
For context, this isn't an entirely left-field request for him to make. First and foremost, he has every reason to delve into my relationship with media that effects me, and specifically about writing, because of my history.
I have an incredibly fraught relationship with creative writing thanks to the decades I spent convinced I "had" to do it because I had a "gift" (read: I was regularly told this in so many words and I have strong language skills).
I coasted my way through writing in undergrad and predictably hit a wall when I tried and failed to complete an MFA, after which I spent a few years barely able to read much less write.
More than once in my life when I've struggled to explain myself or something I was feeling, I've literally gone over to my bookshelf to show whoever I was talking to a highlighted passage that said the things I couldn't.
Since I started the show, we've been talking at length about the effects it and its fanworks have had on me, the questions that have come up, the useful examples it has provided, the role of narrative in our lives and how we live them, etc.
He has experience with creative therapy modalities, though that's not been what we've done in the years I've been seeing him.
I made a point to mention once that I've had conversations with other people who write fic (inside and outside this fandom) about how reading and writing it has been a useful way for them to process their emotions and trauma in ways they find engaging.
I can see how in his situation he would be curious, but because the question came up towards the end of the session we didn't really have time to get into it. Specifically why, although because we've also talked about struggling to identify concepts that are hard to name, I suspect he thinks it might reveal something useful for the work we're doing.
I'm not ashamed of the meager contributions I've made to this fandom. There's no plot to speak of in either because I'm allergic to plot. They're strings of images inspired by a specific image that popped into my head, with the absolute minimum amount of connective tissue required to prop them upright. And that's fine, because thankfully the genre conventions of fanfic allow these things to work because well-executed fan works don't require plot to draw readers in and have meaning for those readers. The very "I love _________ and want more of it" motivation to seek out fanworks gives us a space for creativity with different rules than we might be used to and allows people who otherwise wouldn't to enjoy and benefit from being creative.
A few months into my MFA program I finally admitted to myself that I should be writing poetry instead if trying to make fiction work, but at the time I didn't have the emotional fortitude to write good poetry, which would have required the years of therapy I didn't have at the time to face everything that would come up. Not that fiction isn't emotionally demanding of course, but as unequipped as I was to deal with the things fiction would require of me, I was even less interested then. But even with all this in mind I don't think my therapist will find what he's looking for in my writing for a lot of reasons.
First, I don't feel like I necessarily "put myself" into anything I write, at least not in that sort of simplistic psychoanalytic way that's assumed. While of course you still manage to tell on yourself in certain ways based on what you say (or don't say) in any context, I literally don't think my fics will help him much there. The first one was the world's mildest reunion smut born out of a specific image, with a first draft completed in one sitting. The second one is a "character study" I guess, born from another image that may have been especially inspiring because writing it (again in one go) allowed me to put off something else that I very much did not want to be doing that day. In both cases, revisions and getting them posted too less than 24 hours after the initial draft.
Let's also look at the animus behind writing fic. Like there are loads of reasons to do it, but with me the experience has always meant being struck by an image writing it down so I don't lose it, and following it down its desired path to see what else comes up. I wrote what I wanted, how I wanted, and experienced some creative satisfaction in doing so. It's been an outlet in some ways, but that's just as true of other things I do sometimes like streaming games or even like fucking exercising.
Were I to decide to share any of it it wouldn't be like linking my ao3 account or whatever, which to be clear isn't what he was even asking. He'll respect that I don't want to share them, and we'll discuss what he was hoping to learn when we meet again this week. I was definitely thrown by the initial request, but beyond all the privacy and ethics stuff, it just doesn't feel like it would be a good use of anyone's time?
Tbh if anything is gonna come from this request it will likely be a) talking in detail about the fics I've read that have profoundly effected me to identify the stuff it brings up or b) him urging me to try poetry. Which like, okay, the thing you don't want to do for the reasons I can feel in my gut that I don't want to write poetry can often be the very thing you absolutely need to do, but ugggggh. That's the hypothetical conversation I'm dreading more than anything else to do with this.
#go ahead and grieve yourself#let's heal together yeah yeah yeah#healing through fanfic#healing through literature#fanfic writing#fanfic woes#my fic writing#ofmd fics
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Feb. 28, 2023
its 2:53AM on a miserably cold February weekday. broken skin under three hydrocolloid bandaids plastered over my face itches terribly. i picked one spot on my cheek so badly i’m afraid to see what it looks like.
nevertheless, i smoke white mo and listen to tarot asmr and feel the heaviness of my body. i am water while my jaw is tar. it aches tonight.
while the last year of my life has been filled with autistic epiphanies, i’ve recently reached a plateau of progress. the weather gets colder, i isolate (is it the fatigue? the fear of intimacy?) for just about any reason, i regress and i cope.
when i reached out to you, i had one of those epiphanies. but softer. when i was younger and i imagined my life as an adult, i always pictured myself having an entire cabinet filled with tea. just about every kind you can think of. think Ramona. i usually go with green.
and i realized that i made that a reality. i do have an entire cabinet filled with different teas. i have a bamboo organizer and an electric teapot that lets you specify temperature and steep time. if this is what they mean when they say manifest, i think i get it.
slowly over time i delve deeper into the things i love and before i even know it, i’m onto the next one. always wanting. never content. no, its, “once i get my act together i’m gonna have it so good.” living my life passively. i’m a fucking NPC. things happen to me, i don’t seek them out. and then i proceed to waste years and dollars on opportunities i was too scared to take. at the same time, i feel like nobody can even compete with me. i’m different. i feel like i’ve earned it. earned something other than this endless silver lining.
this is turning out a bit more depressing than i would have liked but, hey, you don’t stop the flow of creativity when it hits, right?
a few months after our talk i had another soft epiphany. i’ve been trying so hard to be present and honest with myself. i cut off contact with my dad. i broke up with a toxic best friend. i sang at my sisters wedding. i felt the sting of the ocean again. i reached out to you.
i think being chronically ill has changed the way i interact with people and the world. once you’re aware of every arbitrary artillery built to indirectly damage your quality of life, it changes the way you talk about things. there has to be this constant recognition of the circumstance. a lot of people aren’t ready to have a conversation, and every time i hear an elderly relative say something transphobic i get this sting in my heart and a rush of adrenaline because i’m not going to be the person that doesn’t say anything. i have always been that person and hated myself for it. i don’t want to live passively anymore.
the only thing about that is that i have no idea how to start. if you were here, what would i do? who would we be? i debate between letting us sit in silence forever, or sending a very heavy handed message where i tell you that i think about you every day. i’ve thought about you so much you’ve become a figment. i feel your presence in my room, in a bed you’ve never slept in, when i’m walking down the produce aisle, when i brew my coffee in the morning. all i’ve got now is a shitty love song i wrote after you pulled me back in and made me feel. like magic or electricity or love. i have so much to tell you. if you want me, i’m yours.
and then i think that’s fucking insane and i would never do that. and then i think, its so easy to say it to a crowd, but its so hard, my love, to say it to you alone.
and i’ll put the song on the album because its a damn good shitty love song and our history is art, it’s beautiful to me, but for now its February and all i can do is wait for you. what are you thinking when you don’t respond? are you nervous about saying the wrong thing like i am? or do you just not care?
i know you. i wish i knew you.
#well i’m blogging now i guess#i suppose this could be a journal#yeah ima do that#journal#me#quotes#writers and poets#queer writers#writing#writerblr#poem#author#vulnerable#vulnerability#disability#disabled#autism#disabilties#chronically fatigued#chronically ill#feels weird tagging this lol#aesthetic#aesthetics#aesthetic blog#tumblr after dark
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Okay i'm here as promised buckle up because i have A LOT to say!!!
first lemme just say that i wanted to read the beginning quickly before going to work but i ended up powering through the whole thing i literally could not put it down. during the whole thing i was literally thinking is the kind of shit that should get published. so beofre i ramble into oblivion
i divided my comment into 3 points
first, oc really hit home on this one. like when you wrote that she born into heartbreak and nutured by it i felt that so hard. from the get go i felt really close to her. and what you was were describing felt so real. she didn't feel rushed or superficial she felt like a real character with background and history. so yeah amazing character development
second, the pacing of it all was outstanding!! like it was impossible to stop reading. i was literally held hostage by this fic yes it was THAT good! every event the was progressing the story flowed naturally nothing felt rushed or dragged on. it was just the perfect rythym!!!
third, T.H.E S.M.UT. girllll i cannot believe it was your first smut!!!! like brooo omg the amount of times i almost threw my phone across the room just to get a breather... honestly when they were back in the club and mingi just blurted "use me" i literally LOST. IT. the tension was through the roof!!! i was legit kicking my feet because i was just going insane. and what followed was just to die forrrrrr everything was perfecttttt princess mingi is the absolute best!!!!!!!
and that cliffhanger girl we live in a world where we need part 2 of this masterpiece. like im really NOT the romantic type at all but you got me so in my feels so much that i crave a good ending. like i loved so much peeking throught the cracks of oc's thick armour. mingi def has the power to get her to bring her guard down. of course as an author myself there absolutely no pressure! creative process cant be forced but just know if this happen ill be there literally barking lol
okay so thats all thanks so much for this amazing ff ! sorry for the typos im legit just typing and not thinking
Hello there! Am I tearing up? Why yes I am ;~;
This really is leaving me speechless. To borrow Shakespeare's words from Twelfth Night: “I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks.”
I am reading and rereading your comments and it honestly feels surreal. I so deeply appreciate what you have written and what your thoughts are about 'Use Me', and before I go and sob a lil bit from the sheer glee and how overwhelmed I am (in the best sense ever), let me try my best to answer you <3
As someone who adores literature in all of its forms, I am beyond honoured that you feel this is the type of work that should be published. Really, I have no words other than the fact that I am blown away and am so grateful.
About the OC, what you wrote about the feeling of depth and of connection with the character is so unbelievably meaningful to me. I greatly enjoy work that delves into exploring the psyche and the emotional landscape of personas, and attempt to learn bit by bit about how to incorporate that; proper character development, as well as having good pacing are both major goals for me, so I… quite literally… shouted into the horizon when I read your kind words about that. I am sitting here beaming at the screen <3 (because I am held hostage by your ask I literally want to print it out and hug it and am giving you a virtual hug right now)
As the song goes: THANXX (and gracias, and all translations of it)!!!!! Ahah yep indeed it was and I am seriously really honoured that the tension and the flow of the scenes were that kind of an experience <3 (and princess mingi for the win ;))
This is the highest form of praise, right here, and okay you know how I said 'tearing up' yeah I am fully boarding the feels train, you say you are in the feels? Okay what is your seat I am about to be in the carriage thank you so much!!!! ;~; Really grateful for your understanding nature and for your kindheartedness and for the time that you took to read and to share your thoughts with me and really… I think… a part 2 could very much be a (high) possibility now ;) as you say, it may take a little longer, but I would love to dive in deeper, and see how the relationship in 'Use Me' will be changing, how the past can haunt just about anyone, and if, given time and effort, people can heal, and learn to both love and live.
From the bottom of my heart, I thank you so much for your words, the inspiration and motivation. Much love, big hugs and wishing you all the very best and more <3
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Unleashing Your Inner Elegance: How to Style a Velvet Nehru Jacket
Introduction
Welcome to a fashion journey that is all about unleashing your inner elegance through style! Our focus today is on the Nehru jacket, a timeless piece of clothing that has been around for decades and remains fashionable till date. This impeccable garment was created by Jawaharlal Nehru, India's first prime minister, who was known for his impeccable sense of style. But what makes this jacket so special? And why is it worth investing in? Let's delve deeper into the history and significance of the Nehru jacket.
Brief History of the Nehru Jacket
The Nehru jacket was popularized by Jawaharlal Nehru himself in the 1940s as an alternative to Western-style suits. The jacket is characterized by its straight cut and mandarin collar, which gives it a unique, sophisticated look. It quickly became popular among men in India and eventually gained popularity abroad as well.
Importance of Unleashing Your Inner Elegance Through Style
Your sense of style says a lot about you without you even having to utter a word. What better way to make an impression than by exuding elegance through your clothing choices? Dressing elegantly means commanding respect, attention and confidence from those around you. Our appearance affects how we feel about ourselves and how others perceive us. Unleashing your inner elegance through style is all about making a statement and asserting your positivity and confidence in any situation.
The Nehru jacket is a classic piece of fashion that has been around for decades. It is named after Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of India, who was known for wearing this type of jacket regularly. Over time, it has evolved into a fashionable item that can be worn by anyone.
A velvet Nehru jacket is one made from velvet material. Velvet is a soft and luxurious fabric that adds depth and richness to any outfit. The texture of the velvet fabric makes it stand out from other types of jackets, giving it an air of sophistication and elegance. The characteristics of a velvet Nehru jacket include its mandarin collar and button-up design.
It typically features two or three buttons down the front and has four pockets - two on either side at the bottom and two on either side at the chest level. The sleeves are usually long and have buttoned cuffs.
Caring for Your Velvet Nehru Jacket
Preserving the Beauty of Your Jacket
Your velvet Nehru jacket is an investment piece that you want to keep looking new and fresh for years to come. After all, this jacket is your statement piece- the one that will make heads turn. Therefore, it's essential to take good care of it.
The first step in maintaining your velvet Nehru jacket is ensuring that you store it correctly. Always hang them on a wide padded hanger or fold them neatly to avoid creasing.
Cleaning Your Velvet Nehru Jacket
Dry cleaning is the best way to clean your velvet Nehru jacket. But before taking it to the dry cleaners, check the care label for any specific instructions or restrictions regarding cleaning and ironing temperature. You should also refrain from wearing deodorant or cologne when putting on your jacket, as these products can stain the fabric.
If you find a small stain on your velvet jacket, try removing it gently with a soft-bristled brush or by wiping it with a damp cloth. Be cautious not to scrub too hard as this could damage the fibers of the fabric.
Removing Wrinkles from Your Velvet Nehru Jacket
It's typical for wrinkles to form on clothes when they sit in storage, especially if they've been folded rather than hung up on hangers. To remove wrinkles from your velvet Nehru jacket, hold a steamer at least six inches away from it and steam it lightly until all wrinkles disappear. By following these simple maintenance tips, you can ensure that your velvet Nehru jacket remains looking brand new and elegant every time you wear it!
Styling Tips for Different Occasions
Dress up or Dress down?
The versatile Nehru jacket can be dressed up or down, depending on the occasion. If you're attending a formal event like a wedding or dinner party, pair your velvet Nehru jacket with a crisp white shirt, black trousers and polished shoes.
This classic combination will exude sophistication and elegance. On the other hand, if you're going for a more casual look, there are plenty of ways to dress down your Nehru jacket.
For example, you could wear it with a printed t-shirt and denim jeans for a funky yet stylish vibe. Alternatively, pair it with chinos and loafers for a smart-casual outfit that's perfect for brunches or outdoor events.
Suitable Outfits for Different Occasions
When it comes to styling your velvet Nehru jacket, the possibilities are endless! Here are some outfit ideas to get you started:
For weddings: Pair your Nehru jacket with a white shirt, black pants and dress shoes. You can also add a pocket square in complementary colors.
For formal dinners: Combine your velvet Nehru jacket with beige trousers and brown oxfords. Don't forget to accessorize with cufflinks and tie pins.
For casual outings: Wear your Nehru jacket over a printed t-shirt or polo shirt paired with denim jeans or khaki shorts. Complete the look with sneakers or sandals.
Experimenting With Colors
Don't be afraid to experiment with colors when styling your velvet Nehru jackets! Jewel tones like emerald green, burgundy and navy blue work well for formal events while lighter shades like pastel pink and sky blue are perfect for casual occasions. When choosing colors make sure they complement each other so that you don't end up looking too flashy or mismatched.
Overall, the Nehru jacket is a stylish and versatile addition to any wardrobe. With the right styling, you can unleash your inner elegance and leave a lasting impression at any event.
Conclusion
The Nehru jacket is a versatile piece of clothing that can unlock your inner elegance and boost your confidence. By following the tips outlined in this article such as selecting the right outfit to match your velvet Nehru jacket, accessorizing your look, caring for your jacket and styling tips for different occasions, you can create a lasting impression on anyone you meet. The Nehru jacket has been around for decades and it's still relevant in modern fashion. Its unique design is one that never goes out of style. So investing in a quality velvet Nehru jacket is truly an investment for life.
So go ahead, unleash your inner elegance with a velvet Nehru jacket! Not only will you look great, but you'll feel great too!
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Good lord I just came across a video on YouTube of a white man calling himself thoroughly explaining the origins, structures & relevance of aave/ebonics & ppl are praising him for this in the comments like,,,, he's not basically educating other races of ppl on a public platform as to how to appropriate our vernaculars? How to mimic us down to textbook guidance no one asked for?
It rubs me so wrong cus he's casually delving into slavery & its intersectionalism w standard English & im just sitting there like ....but what kept you from leaving this to the ppl that actually belong to the culture & community? Why do you feel you have a right to make content like this — & "educate" as if you have all the information? You & other non black ppl would've never dreamed of taking black culture as faux-seriously as yall do now to keep up w what you deem today's trends — which, a lot of the time & weirdly enough, is more Black-focal than cultural in any other ways at all.
Criticized us even as children for speaking aave when a lot of us were growing up. It wasn't "proper" English; the grammar was off; it was "ghetto". Black ppl are not out here educating other black ppl on the relevance of Welsh or Swiss-German. I am so tired of non blacks in general butting tf in where they don't belong around our things. How come white ppl aren't more focused on educating other whites ab white history that has already been made, if anything? Yea, esp the racist stuff. Why yall so focused on tryna "assimilate" by just copying us like theres no tomorrow & endorsing other races speaking like you've always harassed us for, then calling it "diversity" & "internet slang". Its weird as hell. You have your own, cultures; white ppl & nbpoc alike.
Like good lord, black culture belongs to Black, People. What is so hard ab leaving our things alone?? Do yall really not see how exponentially hypocritical it is for billions of yall to have been so comfortably antiblack (for generations centuries at that) before blackness was so relevant to many of your favorite trends — for yall to turn around & so possessively emulate any & everything that's ever been associated w us while still depriving us of actual rights to black culture? Like wtf non blacks be weird as hell nowadays. Make me not even wanna speak around em period cus even if you don't use aave around em they've gotten to where they use it casually like its theirs anyhow. I be so lost. This is not yalls.
#aave#ebonics#white people#white people be like#nbpoc#black vernaculars#black dialects#cultural misappropriation#black tumblr#black twitter#non blacks dont interact#blm#mine.txt#culture vultures
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Miscellaneous Fatui hcs 🎭
Keep in mind, we don’t know much about them!! And I haven’t delved into the lore or whatever :) this is just for fun!!! It won’t be accurate!! :) This was an old warm up draft thing so might as well post it! It’s really just one big ramble page :)
The Fatui and their titles are inspired by the Italian commedia dell'arte. So I believe the Tsaritsa is very into the Genshin equivalent of Italy, if there is one. (If they’ve got Mondstadt(German) and Fontaine(French) then there must be some sort of Italian sounding dialect then? Maybe?)
If she’s into theatre and “Italian” culture/history, I like to think that the harbingers had to learn Italian as well as other languages as they trained to become harbingers. It’s fun to think about Ajax, the stutterer and the fool, having to sit and be tutored for Italian lessons as a heavily accented Snezhnayan! He’s got Pulcinella and Capitano looming over him, lecturing him about grammar…All the kid wants to do is go out and slaughter enemy camps. Is that too much to ask?
I love the idea of the Tsaritsa throwing a ball (or multiple?) every so often. Here, she shows off her soldiers, diplomats, riches, weaponry and harbingers to all she invites. It’s a huge event that the normal, everyday people of Snezhnaya wish they could see in person and not just photographs in their newspapers. Zapolyarny Palace has tons of carriages outside and those who make their way inside are all dressed to the nines
^^ at these balls, the harbingers are decked out in their formal uniforms which are saved for occasions like this. They all wear their masks and wear sashes that display their countless pins and badges that they earned. Their uniforms don’t exactly match in style since they’re inspired by their theatre roles, many of these uniforms include ruffles, puffy sleeves or bells, but they’re not ridiculous by any means! They’re just cool, cool enough that guests’ eyes tend to go wide when they see them for the first time
In addition to learning Italian, the harbingers also had to learn all kinds of etiquette. This is usually hard for them since they want to fight all the time or do their own thing. Scaramouche was a sight to see during his etiquette training, he was so insufferable that he failed his course three times. Part of this course is ballroom dancing. The Tsaritsa expects her harbingers to engage with the guests at the ball! And if she wanted to dance with one of them, they better know how to dance or they’d be a terrible embarrassment to her
Capitano, Signora and Dottore have beautiful singing voices. They can’t stand each other, they want to rip each others’ throats out, but when it’s time for the first dance of the night and they’re called upon to sing with the band as the Tsaritsa dances with a lucky guest to start the night off…They don’t exactly hate each other in those moments. It is quite the honor to sing in front of everyone this way. And they just look THAT much better than everyone else. They’re practically super soldiers, they have their best uniforms on, they dance like they were made to do so and on top of that, these three can sing like angels. Is there anything they can’t do? All it takes is months of grueling training :)
Ajax is the youngest harbinger. When he went to his first ball while still training under Pulcinella, he was totally flabbergasted. He came from a smaller town so seeing the grand ballroom of the Zapolyarny palace all gussied up and full of guests…He’d never seen anything like it. Even now, after attending many of these stupid balls…He still feels that little spark of magical, childlike admiration when he steps into the room for the first time
I love the idea of the harbingers having their own wing in the palace. They all have separate rooms, labs and offices but there’s one parlor where they can go to play chess, strategize or relax. They could go anywhere else in the palace if they wanted to but some will go out of their way to annoy the others in the parlor just for fun. Dottore will flip the chess board while Pantalone and Sandrone play, Signora will play the piano off key to annoy Scaramouche while he tries to read, Capitano will put his feet up on the coffee table while knowing how much it bothers Pulcinella. Sometimes they’re like one big rabid family who hate each other. The Tsaritsa likes that a lot
Something else I like to imagine is ‘family dinners’. When all of the harbingers happen to back at the palace, it’s rare for them to all be there at the same time, the Tsaritsa will call for them to have dinner with her. It won’t be a formal affair, no mask required, just the twelve of them at the table together. Sometimes they sit and strategize, sometimes they tell stories, sometimes they sit in silence as the Tsaritsa glares at them when plans are ruined. These ‘family dinners’ are either somewhat pleasant or absolutely dreadful
What about their military uniforms? They must have uniforms of some kind right? From the harbingers we’ve seen so far (Childe, Scara, Signora and Dottore), they pretty much just wear whatever they want! I love the idea of them having 2 actual military uniforms. One for winter, kinda like the Russian uniforms with the cloak/capeish looking coats. And another for…Well, not winter. It’s still long sleeves and long pants, combat boots, sashes, masks and gloves. They rarely wear those uniforms unless 1. They’re all together in the public eye 2. They’re going to see the Tsaritsa all together
Ooo something else, it would be so cool to see maybe a little old lady who makes masks for the harbingers. She’s just a sweet old Russian grandmother who lives in the palace just cause the Tsaritsa likes her! So she makes these beautiful masks, carves them and paints them all by hand. She makes sculpts of each harbinger’s face so she can continually make new masks. Some with nicer paint, some formal masks with more detail, plain black masks for royal funded funerals, masks with gemstones in them, replacement masks for broken ones. Everyone gets along with this lady. Harbingers actually find a bit of joy in getting her souvenirs from neighboring nations or trying on masks for her just to see her smile. No one dares to disrespect granny. She has scary dog privileges :)
#just something for fun#I wrote this as a warmup the other day and thought#I might as well post it! I already wrote it so why not!!!#I think the Fatui s are so cool… 0-0#genshin impact#genshin impact writing#genshin impact headcanons#series: Fatui#genshin impact Fatui#genshin impact childe#genshin impact dottore#genshin impact Signora#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin impact tsaritsa
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Take you home ²
𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞...
>𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷
Summary: Jake can’t accept that this has been done to you, the thought torments him, and all he wants is revenge, and he gets it.
Words: 4,2k
Genre: Angst / Fluff
Warnings: Swearing, insulting
A/n: Well, hi.
So, this one has taken on some dimensions again, they weren’t planned, about 3k. Now, it is a bit more. Actually, the whole thing should not be quite so extensive, but well, once Jake starts, he doesn’t stop.
Thank you alls so much for the support in part one, I was really surprised. And thank you very much for wishing Part Two, which means a lot to me. ❤️
So, that’s a bit more related to alternative two of part one. Actually, it was supposed to get a little darker and generally the plan was different. The ending should be different and longer, but I think it’s good as it is now.
I hope you’ll like it.
And apologize for the mistakes.
(I think I wanted to say more but I forgot xD)
Anyway, have fun, stay healthy and take care of yourselves.❤️🌹🎭
There lies the hacker now, in the early morning hours, not even the sun has risen already, wide awake, full of emotions and agitated.
In his arms, you, fortunately asleep, deep and firm.
He also wanted to sleep, he has been trying for two hours but it doesn’t work. And how should he? After the past hours it is practically impossible to sleep.
The only reason you sleep is probably the effort you had to experience. Your body was finished after the shower. You were still shivering from the adrenaline, agitated and yet so terribly tired.
So now he lies here, doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to react, how to feel. TThe pure fear that lay in your voice when the call came suddenly, gives him goose bumps again, crawling all over his body.
This fearful tone of your voice won’t let it go.
What if he hadn’t been there in time? If he hadn’t been able to save you in time? If it took him a minute longer? If something had gone wrong?
He can’t even imagine what could have happened. At this horrible imagination in his head, he pinches his eyes tightly. Try to remove the images from his head that make him sick, he would like to vomit, so horrible is the thought of it. He shakes his head, tries to drive away the thoughts, but they don’t go away. His fingernails drill deep and firmly into the skin of his palms. It hurts, it’s uncomfortable, and if he still squeezes even harder, he’ll start bleeding, but he has no control over it. In his mind, the worst scenarios circle and he can only imagine, if even he feel so bad now, how bad did you feel in this moment?
He controls himself to be quiet, exhorts himself to loosen up again so as not to wake you. You need sleep. You deserve sleep. But these pictures, these fucking pictures, they're not going away. The imagination that someone would touch you- NO!
The hacker opens his eyes wide! He must not go in this direction, he must look straight out and make sure that you get your revenge, as you deserve! That he protects your honor, that he makes everyone see what happens when someone wants to do something bad to you.
He’s Jake, one of the best hackers in the world and now he’s gonna show what he’s capable of.
-
His breath is so heavy, so full of anger and hatred, so full of negativity that he would like to hit the next wall.
He bites his lower lip when he thinks about leaving you here alone. He needs to be in his study. He just has to find out who this guy was. That bastard.
Just really reluctant, actually he would just like to lie here with you, but he has to, he's winds cautiously out of your embrace.
He can’t lie here and wait, he has to do something. Now!
Even if he feels weird with it, he opens the laptop that is in his bedroom and directs it so that he can see your sleeping shape. He will simply connect the laptop to his PC to keep an eye on you. As soon as you get restless or wake up, he could be with you right away.
That’s how he’s gonna do it.
He gives you a final and gentle kiss on the forehead before going to his study.
-
After he has prepared his work setup and everything is ready, he wastes no time and immediately gets to work. Quickly scan the data of the man who was tracking you.
Everything that had ever happened in his life, the hacker would find out now. And of course, the most important information is quickly obtained.
Name
Age
Date of birth
Address
All bank accounts
His social security number
Where he grew up
As what he works
What friends he has
With whom he is friends
His pets
On what elementary school he went
On what high school he went
Who his parents are
The siblings
All information about each individual family member
And at the very end, the police certificate of conduct with all the information who are important for him. And that’s more interesting than he thought. The further he read the information from the police, the more his emotional state changes.
It starts with drug abuse
Bodily injury in two cases
Insult
Gun possession
Domestic violence against his ex girlfriend
....
The list is shockingly long: a two-year stay in a prison, probation and community service.
The further Jake read, the more worried he is that he couldn’t have been there in time with bad luck. But he’s all the happier he could save you.
At the same time, he’s thinking about telling you who the guy is, because he doesn’t know how you’re gonna take this information. But he would worry more about that later.
As he glances at the laptop’s camera, a smile creeps up on his lips. Meanwhile, you are lying on his side of the bed, your arms are tightly wrapped around his pillow and your head is pressing into the soft fabric, as if you were looking for his proximity in your sleep.
How perfect can a person be? How perfect is this beautiful being lying in his bed? Immediately the tingling starts in his stomach, as always when it comes to you.
He’s so terribly in love. So insanely strong.
Again, he begins to regret that it has not progressed further between you. Everyone knows that he loves you, and everyone knows that you love him. And yet you both have not yet managed to finally do what you both so much want. But the fear of destroying everything is so great. You two spend so much time with each other, become best friends, best friends who feel more for each other than just friendship.
In addition, his fear of putting you in danger is added. He is not a simple man, no one who prefers a regular daily life, no fixed working hours, no fixed income, even if he earns more than most others. As a hacker you have one or the other possibility. Nevertheless, he is still wanted by the government. Not as strong, and the danger is not as great as it was a few months ago, but it still exists.
But last night’s incident somehow inspired him to think, and he feels different when he thinks about it. He wants you, he wants you with everything you have, he wants you by his side. He always wants to protect you, he always wants to be there for you, he wants you by his side, he doesn’t want to live alone in this apartment anymore. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, he needs you, he has always done it and he will always need you, he wants you so bad!
This incident clearly shows that life is always uncertain, and this incident shows him that he is lying to himself. He wants to be able to say that you’re a couple, he wants it so badly. So fucking urgent.
"I want to share my life with you," the hacker murmurs, driving through his face with his hands. Now his thoughts have drifted in another direction again, but you’re just sitting in every corner of his mind. You are the biggest and most important part of his life and that since the first time you met.
But now something else is more important. After that, he can think of you a lot, but now revenge counts.
He breathes in and out again before turning back to the screens and begins to gather more information.
-
About half an hour later, he releases himself from his cramped posture. The further he delves into the life of the man, the more aggressive he becomes.
This guy’s not a petty criminal, the way he thought he was, this guy’s got dirt on him through and through.
And the further he reads, the more he wonders why this guy is on the loose and not in a maximum security prison.
From organized crime to gang activities. Drug dealing, counterfeit money, prositution. All the shit every gang is involved in.
Disgusting chat histories, images, threats of other people, extort protection money. And the hacker just assumed the guy is just a disgusting bastard. But he thought wrong.
And yet, it’s actually only good for him, really very good, because Jake has now a lot more options than he thought.
He thinks hard about how to proceed. How best to tackle this whole situation, so that he has the best chance of success.
But what’s also positive for is the fact that this guy really doesn’t deserve anything other than what the hacker’s up to.
To destroy a person’s whole life is actually nothing that he would do; he simply cannot reconcile this with his morality. Even if it’s about you, but now he’s not just doing it for you, he’s doing it for everyone. This is a favor he does to the whole society.
Oh and he’ll do it with pleasure.
-
Meanwhile, he has gained access to the man’s laptop and can take a closer look at the living room. He also got lucky and found some camera shots taken by a bakery that is on the street where you were being followed.
Unfortunately, it has no sound and yet it is more than enough. He saved the recording and censored you on it.You don’t have to be broadcast in video format all over the world.
But it is still clear that he's persecutes you. It is more bad than quite recognizable on the videos that he is angry and that he shouts something, but when you see the video, everything is explained by itself.
That was number one on his list.
Let's continue with point two.
And point two is a summary of all the information he could find that could even remotely involve anything criminal.
And this is a really long list, he can prove everything, he can prove every single point. With all the information that will help.
Videos, chats, pictures, recording of conversations. Locations, meeting places, other names.
Because his plan has changed, and it’s not just about destroying this man anymore, it’s about destroying all the criminals around him.
-
Point two, finish! Now, point three, and that’s the confrontation with the man.
The most important information is in front of him as he puts on his headset and leans back relaxed.
The recording program runs as soon as he turns on his microphone. The recording is automatically converted into the computer voice and then sent as a video along with his sign, the eye, as a gift to his new friend.
He puts one leg over the other and folds his arms in front of his chest.
"Hello Ted, my identity doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve made some serious mistakes, and about this, I will teach you now."
-
And send.
Soon the man’s cell phone will start ringing, and it will only stop when he gets up and then listens to the hacker’s nice message on his laptop, which will breaking his little world in which he lives.
But it’s his own fault.
A look at the camera of his own laptop tells him that you still sleep quietly and calmly, which makes him happy. -
The ringing of the mobile phone and the terrible ringtone of the persecutor annoy the hacker so slowly. He didn’t think it would be that long before Ted wake up. But when it finally happens and a door is opened, a slightly arrogant grin appears on Jake’s face.
It’s Showtime.
"What the hell?" grumbles the sleepy guy as Jake makes the video file pop up.
The eye flickers on the screen and Ted skeptically approaches it.
He pulls back his desk chair and sits down.
"What the fuck?" he hisses angrily and pushes a button on the keyboard.
"Hello Ted, my identity doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve made some serious mistakes, and about this, I will teach you now."
Amused and eager, Jake follows the course of the situation.
Ted becomes more and more hectic, the more facts the computer voice enumerates. He probably didn’t expect this to ever come to light. He wildly presses all the buttons he can find, tries to turn off the laptop but he has absolutely no control over it.
At the very end, after all the crimes have been enumerated, the computer voice informs him that he has video footage of his nocturnal activity.
"That was a big mistake, Ted, and it’s time you understood that you understand how unimportant you are in this world"
-
After Jake has decided to leave Ted alone, with the knowing that he can now say goodbye to his life as he knows it, he move on to point 4.
And point 4 involves sending all the information to everyone who can do something with it. But don't worry, that’s not the finale.
The finale will be something special.
Everything collected is sent first to the police in Duskwood. He doesn’t think much will happen, but the police will certainly not be the agency that will take care of Ted, in the end.
After the police, Jake sends the information to his place of work. He won’t be needing the job in a few hours anyway even longer.
Then his sister gets an e-mail with everything there is about her brother. Because Jake found out that poor girl always had to take care of him. Had to pick him out of the cell at night, had to pick him up of the hospital one or the other time and things like that. Among other things, good Ted broke into her apartment once, but this was not reported to the police. Jake saw in a chat that Ted promised to stop doing criminal things. This didn’t work out that way. The hacker feel sorry for the sister, she certainly doesn’t deserve it and yet this is about more than just that.
And after all the important people have received the information, he finally go to the final, which the hacker is most looking forward to before he can finally return to you.
Back to you, to his bed where you lie, this day can’t be more beautiful, can it?
Well, the morning show on TV sounds good, doesn’t it? The channel is littered with scandals and really unscrupulous means of getting attention.
No one will be angry with him if the actual broadcast is interrupted for a few minutes to do something good. And to appease his vengeance. All he has to do is fade in everything, play the video and the rest would come by itself. The spread on the Internet. The information is forwarded to other authorities like the State Police Authorities as it is about more than just the pursuit after revenge for his love. Gang crime is not liked by the state.
So then, curtain up, the final begins.
-
About half an hour later, now it is shortly before 9 in the morning, the whole took longer than he had expected, he sinks back on the soft mattress. Satisfaction spreads and seeing you sleep so peacefully also makes him tired.
Carefully he pulls the blanket over himself and then grabs again around your body to bring you back into his arms. He hides his head in your neck bend and a few moments he falls asleep with a smile on his face.
He couldn’t stop himself from posting some things on Ted’s Instagram page for his personal feeling. Pictures that Ted prefers not to watch for the Internet, but Jake doesn’t care; in a few hours, Ted will never have access to the Internet again. Hopefully Ted makes friends in prison fast, or it won’t be so funny for him.
Well, don’t mess with the hacker’s love.
----------
When you open your eyes, Jake still lies peacefully asleep beside you.
His hair stands wildly off his head and he has put his arms protective around you. Immediately a feeling of home spreads within you and you smile.
His body nestles warm against yours and you wish you could always wake up like that.
Bu, if you didn’t have to use the bathroom.
Carefully peel out from under his arms without waking him.
With leaving Jake’s arms and getting out of bed, the first pictures of last night immediately come back into your head. A few moments you stare at the wall before you shake your head. You don’t want to think about it. Actually, you never want to have to think about it again, you just want to forget it, focus on everything that’s more important now. And this is you, your feeling that you don’t want to get involved in this situation, you don’t want to leave room for this man. You don’t want him to have room in your life, and you don’t want to investigate any further. Actually, you don’t want to know who this guy is. You just want to focus on how lucky you were, that everything went well, that Jake saved you, and that nothing happened to you.
Jake!
You want to focus on Jake! And most importantly, that you finally want to be with him! He was there to save you right away. He was ready to help you immediately, he protected you, especially the way he protected you. The way he sounded, as if he was doing everything he could to save you. And this irrational fear that this could not work with you two, it’s bullshit! You want him with everything he has and you don’t want to be just friends anymore. You long for his lips, for his kisses that don’t just go on your forehead or cheek. You want to finally be able to say that you are a couple, you want him so badly, so damn badly.
Like a miracle cure, the thought of Jake really distracts you. You didn’t even know where your thoughts went, it just happened. But it always is, it’s just in every corner of your mind.
-
After you left the bathroom, you turned on the coffee machine. You’d stay awake and pass the time until Jake wakes up and you could have some breakfast. While the coffee is cooking, you drop down on the small sofa in the hacker’s living room and decide to pass the time with a little bit TV.
You switch through the channels looking for something interesting but don’t really find something you like.
When the Coffee machine gives you confirmation that the hot drink is ready, you quickly jump up and leave the remote control there.
While you prepare your coffee, you listen to an advertisement about an electronic toothbrush and then one about the latest vacuum cleaner.
With your cup you go back and then put a thin blanket from the sofa around your legs.
The News Show that you sometimes see starts broadcasting.
And you really expected a lot, really a lot, but you never expected what was actually going on.
While the news announcer reports on a gang crime, a picture is displayed. There’s a man to be seen, and you’re a thousand percent sure that’s the man who chased you yesterday.
Silently and with your mouth open you are listening as a whole gang was arrested, warehouses and factories were stormed. Drugs and counterfeit money were confiscated and in the end, how a hacker uncovered all this.
During the narration about hacking another channel and the materials shown there such as images and video, your heart begins to beat faster and faster.
And when it is shown what was published there, you put your hand infront your mouth in shock.
"Oh my-" you watch the camera shots where you can clearly see the street, which is only a few streets away from your apartment.
And then you see a censored shadow running, a few moments later a man.
You and the man who was now identified as Ted.
Jake.
That was Jake, you know it!
You don’t know how to react. While the pictures and videos scare you, since this man met you yesterday, you feel moved to tears on the other side. When the hell did he do that?
Did he do it because of you?
Where does he get so much information? Sure, he’s a hacker but THAT?
When the news anchor finally ends her post with the words "This man will probably never see the light of day again" and "The whole Internet speaks about this man and the victim who was persecuted by him. When you see this, we wish you all well!"
You have the feeling that you are breathing again for the first time. Like you’ve been holding your breath all this time without noticing.
You stutter at things, try to explain, sort out and understand your feelings. But somehow, just like last night, it’s too unreal.
"You shouldn’t know that in this way"
Startled you turn around as Jake’s sleepy voice appears behind you.
He's leaning in the door frame and yawns once.
With an open mouth you stare at him, "Did you-?" but you break off immediately because you have no idea what to say.
"Is everything okay? Shouldn’t I have do that? I wanted to tell you myself but now it’s too late. I wanted to teach you gently," explains the hacker, and his gaze slowly turns into a worried one.
"Did you- I mean- you were -" you stutter, can’t bring out a normal sentence. Point you to the TV, to you and back to Jake.
"I’m sorry, MC, I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything," he explains straight away." It was just, I don’t know, I was so mad! I still am! This disgusting bastard was following you, he-"quickly breaks off. His hands are clenched into fists, his eyebrows pulled together and his breath accelerated. However, he doesn’t want to remind you unnecessarily, even if that didn’t work out so well through the news. He really has to hold back from screaming completely and somehow making sure that Ted gets more than what he already has.
"No Jake, I-I" you just can’t find the right words and before you know it, you threw yourself awkwardly over the sofa, rolled over it and stood two steps later directly in front of Jake. Without control, you reach into his neck with one hand and pull his head down towards you. Not quite gently your lips hit on his.
And just as quickly as the kiss came about, you finish it as quickly.
"Oh, um, I... so.. I-" you laugh nervously, still holding his head. "Um, sorry?"
Jake also laughs nervously.
"I shouldn’t have done that," a little embarrassed, you let go of his neck and kick a few steps away from him.
"No, no, everything was fine, I thought it was great, so I mean-" a slight redness adorns Jake’s cheeks.
"Sorry" you mumble with a much too high voice and try yourself on a grin that probably looks like you’re in pain. Jake makes an waving off hand move, then it’s quiet between you for a moment. You chew on the inside of your cheek and let your foot slide across the floor in a semicircle, "Did you..- Did you say you thought it was great?" You ask as unimpressed as possible, as if it were a question about the weather.
Jake’s eyes grow big, "Did you find it bad?"
"No, no, of course not!" you assure him quickly." It was great, I would do it again and again."
You sigh.
Smiling, you put one hand to your forehead and look back at the hacker. Jake smiles too, and then you start laughing out loud. Until you have to hold your stomach and the first tears run out of your eyes.
"We’re so ridiculous," you chuckle, shaking your head over you two.
"Do you think?" Jake asks, grinning, "I find us great together"
"Me too" you agree and look back at him.
"Jake I-"
"MC I-"
At the same time you start to speak and then both of you are immediately silent to let the other go first.
"Do you first" you offer and he returns it to you.
"No, I’m fine, say what you wanted to say," you confirm.
"I can wait, you start"
You’re twisting her eyes again.
However, Jake understands this wrong and at the same time the magic words leave your lips "I love you"
Masterlist
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And thank you @a-d-alison your submission gave me a lot of motivation🤭❤️
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#duskwood#duskwood jake#duskwood mc#duskwood jake x mc#duskwood fanfiction#duskwood hacker#everbyte#everbyte studios#everbyte duskwood#everbyte game#duskwood game#duskwood everbyte#iamjake
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Todoroki x Reader - Home
Dealing with your past and thinking about what it means to have a family isn’t always easy. Having a partner who understands and helps you grow definitely helps, though.
Dedicated to: @nakunakunomi and @silenceofthecookies
Warnings: mentions of therapy, mental health and family situations
Word count: 1.8K
The blearing of the red digits on the alarm clock next to you cut through the darkness of the night. With every second that passed, the frustration that was boiling in the pit of your stomach increased as you counted down the hours and minutes of sleep you could still catch if you fell asleep right that second. It felt like it was no use, however. You hadn’t slept a wink so far, were more preoccupied with keeping your thoughts from spiraling. It was ‘so important to stay focused on what you were really feeling, delving deep into your thoughts and spitting through until you got to the core of your concerns’ – your therapist had told you that was the best way to keep you from spiraling too often.
“Try to make sense of what you are really feeling and what caused it, rather than to run with the feeling of being overwhelmed and letting it take over your thought process. Imagining scenarios in which it all gets even worse won’t help you process any of your internal struggles, Y/N.”
And of course, it made sense. Your therapist always made sense. She’d also warned you that the process wouldn’t be a short nor an easy one. You’d figured that going to see her and talking to her would already lift a big weight off your chest, however there was still a lot of work to do outside of the sessions – that was the worst part. Therapy was easy. You’d sit there, maybe crack a joke or two about your trauma and she’d sigh, tut softly, and remind you of better coping mechanisms. Therapy sessions were fine. The nights you spent lying awake and going over what had been and what currently was – and especially what could very well be in the future, was less easy.
You rolled over to find Shōto sleeping serenely next to you. The soft tufts of white and red where messily spread across his forehead and his pillow, the ponytail he had put his hair up into almost completely coming undone during his nightly tossing and turning. It made you smile to know that at least one of you was finding it easy to disappear into a world of peaceful slumber. After all the drama he’d had to go through throughout his life, you were relieved to know that his life had somewhat come together. Shōto was trying his best to make it work with his parents and his siblings – something that didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, but Shōto’s efforts were definitely showing these days.
It was because of his complicated history with his family that he understood you so well. People never get to choose our own families, at least not those that we’re assigned to by blood. When those bonds go awry, it’s often hard to feel like you belong at all. That’s why Shōto had always felt so easy to be around. He understood what it was like living alongside people who couldn’t or wouldn’t understand you, how painful that could be.
You had to avert your eyes, then, a new wave of desperation washing over you. At this point you were bound to wake up your partner and you couldn’t bear to think about that. He more than deserved his rest. You slowly slipped from under the covers, your toes hitting the wood that made up the floor. The air was cold around you, the year’s end was near and there was snow sticking to the ground outside of Shōto’s parental home. His siblings were out for the weekend, leaving the two of you with an opportunity to have a cozy few days of quality time. You carefully inched your way throughout the darkness of the room and towards a silver sliver of moonlight that peeked through the curtains. When you got to the window, you carefully pulled the fabric to the side and let out the breath you’d been holding.
The moon painted the entire world outside in an almost magical shade of platinum. It somehow set your mind at ease, halted your thoughts, and released the tension from your shoulders. You loved spending time at Shōto’s parental home. The two of you were saving up to move in together, so for now it felt incredibly soothing to steal a few private moments together and not have to worry about time management or distance. You nearly shrieked when you felt two arms slowly creeping along your sides as Shōto slid in behind you and rested his chin on your right shoulder. He remained silent, however, merely enjoying the view along with you.
You let out a soft sigh and cleared your throat, your hands gently settling on top of his and leaning into his embrace. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Shōto merely moved his chin and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, a soft hum rumbling up from his chest. “Don’t worry, the bed just got a little cold, that’s all.”
Silence fell across the room once again, but it appeared that Shōto could hear the wheels turning in your head. “Did you have a rough session again, today?” His voice sounded gravelly, like he wasn’t fully awake. You nodded, your teeth finding your bottom lip.
“Mhmm. I’ll be fine in the morning, I’m sure. It’s all just a bit overwhelming now, and I can’t seem to get my mind to quiet down.”
You could feel Shōto nodding in understanding, seemingly mulling over your words. “Can I help?”
A soft laugh fell from your lips, your eyebrows raising in disbelief. “I’m not sure, honestly. It seems a bit – hopeless, tonight.”
That’s when you felt him squeezing your sides softly before pulling away. “Get dressed, love. I have an idea.”
Fifteen minutes later, you were dressed and mostly confused. Shōto led you outside into the garden, and you shivered from head to toe. He took your hand in his, and it felt warm – not hot, never hot. In of the years that you had been dating, Shōto had never felt like a blazing fire. He had always been this smoldering warmth; a warmth that healed you from the inside out; a warmth that resembled the feeling of sitting inside by the fire during a blizzard; a warmth that would always shield you. It was a fire that strangely felt like home. The feeling of your hand in his made you relax. You looked up at the sky, which seemed even darker compared to the radiant moon, and felt snowflakes gently land on your cheeks. Your breath visibly travelled up into the world, and it invoked a small smile to your features.
“It’s beautiful out here, Shōto. Thank you for this.”
When you looked back at your partner, his eyes were on you and only on you. He seemed almost enchanted. He seemed to snap out of it when you spoke.
“Come on,” he said, “take a seat.” Shōto cleared away the snow from a bench in the garden and made sure it was mostly dry by the time both of you sat down. You pressed yourself up against his warm side and let yourself give in to the tranquility of the moment. Shōto took your hand once more and you watched the way his thumb softly caressed the back of your hand. You figured this would be how you would spend some time together, basking in the peace and quiet of the garden, but then Shōto softly spoke:
“Sometimes I look at Bakugou or Jirou’s parents and I get envious. They grew up in a relatively normal household, without all too many issues. Some days I find that hard to cope with, almost unfair. I wonder what that would have been like – to grow up like that, to feel secure like that. But then I look at my own family and at how far we’ve come, and I realize I wouldn’t be the person that I am today, without that past. I’ve learned from my parents’ mistakes; I’ve learned from my siblings’ issues. I’ve grown into a person who understands conflict and who knows how to process it – at least to a certain extent,” he paused, “and so I can only come to the conclusion that, when you’re growing into who you really are, you have a choice to learn from your environment and take those lessons with you into the future. There’s nobody who can force you to continue a cycle you weren’t happy with, growing up. All you can do is figure out who and what makes you happy and choose how you want to shape your own future, I suppose.”
He nodded, then, mostly to himself. “While learning from my past, I’ve decided what I want for my future. I want the lessons I have learned to guide me into happiness,” and then he looked up, smiling at you gently, “and I want that with the person who makes me happiest. That’s you, Y/N.”
Shōto shrugged, continuing, “I can’t promise you things will be easy for you, not for a while, but I can promise you will not be in this by yourself. I want to be there in the same way that you were there for me when I had to go through that process.”
You could feel tears starting to well up, that well-known lump forming in your throat making it hard for you to speak. “I can’t – I can’t say how long it will take, though—” you started, but Shōto shook his head, seemingly ever so calm.
“You don’t have to promise me anything, other than that you’ll let me be there for you. I’m so proud of you, just as you are. And I promise feeling this lost isn’t permanent. Someday, we’ll sit on this bench once again and realize that our lives have settled. I want to be there for you because I want to see you flourish throughout this process, and I know you will. I want to see you grow and I want to hold your hand through all of it.”
“Shōto—”
But Shōto seemed to be spiraling through this monologue in the best way possible, looking almost flushed as he stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and cleared his voice for a moment, looking a bit self-conscious, then – almost resembling the shy, awkward boy you met so many years ago.
“I’d planned on doing this with better timing, really. But the way I see it, it might be even better to make you realize that you’re exactly who I want to build that future with. We choose our own family from now on, Y/N. And that’s what I want us to be. I want to be your home.”
And with that, he pulled out a small, wooden box, turned it towards you, and opened it. His eyes showed no hesitation – they were merely filled with determination, devotion, and hope for the future.
#todoroki x reader#reader insert#todoroki#bnha x reader#mha x reader#todoroki imagine#bnha imagine#mha imagine#todoroki shoto#fluff#domestic#mental health#family#.bimboscribbles#nakunakunomi#silenceofthecookies
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Invention and Intrigue pt.3
Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute
“You know, my friends call me Tom.” He interrupts you, sounding faintly amused, a small, irritatingly handsome smile curling his lips.
“And that’s what we are? Friends?”
You start meeting him more regularly after that. He finds you after dinner most nights and you spend hours in abandoned classrooms, researching and practising obscure forms of magic. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring any more fluffy animals for practical demonstrations. You swap theories and notes on cursed objects; delve deep into the histories of generational bloodline curses; and break down spells - both light and dark - into their most base forms to learn their mechanisms and constructions.
Honestly, it’s strange how easy it is to sit in companionable silence reading from the ancient tomes that Riddle has somehow managed to source. Riddle is patient and oddly kind when he explains aspects of magical theory that you don’t understand; he’s a good teacher. Given his reputation for being a studious, polite, and unendingly fair young man you don’t think this should shock you, but it does nonetheless.
More interesting is the gratification that lights his expression when he succeeds in performing a spell for the first time, and the morbid curiosity he has for everything that could be classified as ‘dark’. You think that you should be concerned or nervous or scared but it’s difficult to summon those (very sensible, very reasonable) feelings when you are just as interested in what you’re discovering as he is.
It’s nearly seven o’clock and you think you should probably be thinking about heading back to your common room in case Melanie starts to wonder where you are. Except… From where you’re sitting on the floor with a large, dark green blanket wrapped around your shoulders that Riddle had conjured for when when you’d complained about being cold, you can watch him without him noticing. You can study the way he curls over the book on legilimency he’s reading, head bowed, dark hair falling into his eyes and casting shadows along the sharp planes of his face. He pauses every so often to scribble down a thought or annotation and you watch the crease that forms on his forehead whenever he reaches a part of his reading that particularly interests him. He looks calm is the thing. Content. Peaceful.
Unbidden, an image of him stretched out on a sofa, a book in his hands, you curled at his side, springs fully formed to the forefront of your mind. You can picture the way he might absently run a hand through your hair, or maybe it would be you tracing patterns against his chest… It’s a horrendously tempting portrayal of domesticity. You’re so lost in your fantasies that you don’t realise that you’ve been staring until he coughs politely and you’re brought thundering back to reality. He’s watching you with an expression that reads as part amusement and part consideration and you feel your cheeks grow warm under his scrutiny.
You get up and brush yourself off, folding the blanket over your arm and studiously ignore him. “I should… I need to get back. It’s getting late.” You say and are proud that your voice only wavers slightly.
He hums softly in contemplation and nods. Once you’ve both gathered your things, he offers you his hand and you are reminded of the first time you’d spoken. You slumped against the wall, shivering and scared and him, holding his hand out to you like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Let me walk you back,” He says. Just as before, he doesn’t let go of your hand until you reach the entrance to your common room. When you try to return the blanket, he shakes his head and presses it back into your hands. “I conjured it for you. I’d like for you to keep it.”
Just as before, he departs and you’re left holding the blanket, soft and warm and deep emerald green. Slytherin colours. His colours.
***
Three days later, you’re ready to take back every nice thought you’ve ever had about Riddle. You are seriously regretting ever having caught his attention. Sure, it’s been fun, you’ve learnt a lot of interesting things, and you’d be lying if you said that you’d not been enjoying getting know Riddle beyond the persona he puts forward to the rest of the school, but none of that can make up for the fact that he is leading you down into the bowels of the castle once more without a care in the world for your comfort or sanity.
“You don’t like the dungeons very much, do you?” He asks, taking in your jumpy demeanour and suspicious gaze with a sardonic smile. “Why is that, I wonder? Too scary for a good little girl like you?” The emphasis on the word ‘good’ serves both to underline the obvious sarcasm in his words and make your stomach clench in a way that is entirely inappropriate for the conversation at hand. You could curse yourself for the incredibly misplaced crush you’ve apparently developed.
You fold your arms over your chest and stare at the floor, unwilling to let him see how much his comment has affected you. You let out a shaky breath and murmur, “Self-preservation is not the same as being scared. Excuse me for not wanting to actively tempt fate and die in some godforsaken dungeon.” You snip, well aware that you’re being a little bit dramatic and not caring in the slightest.
Riddle purses his lips together in a hard, thin line and it’s not difficult to see that you’re irritating him. “You seemed perfectly capable of defending yourself the last time you ventured down.”
“Just because I can defend myself doesn’t mean I want to have to.” You snap, following him through the door he’s holding open for you and glancing around in case this has all been some elaborate hoax Lestrange is waiting in the shadows to hex you to hell and back.
The door slams shut behind you and you whirl around, your wand outstretched. Riddle leans against the closed door, arms crossed, looking incredibly bored. “I would have hoped you’d have a little more trust in me by this point.”
And well… He’s right, as much as it pains you to admit it. He’s only ever been kind to you - maybe a little condescending and arrogant at times, but that only serves to add to his charm. With a twinge of embarrassment, you stow your wand away and clench your jaw, unwilling to admit defeat quite so soon. “Yes, well, that was before you decided to lure me into the dungeons, Riddle. Forgive me for being—"
“You know, my friends call me Tom.” He interrupts you, sounding faintly amused, a small, irritatingly handsome smile curling his lips.
“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You stare at him blankly. Because… Well. You’re not. Friends, that is. Up until a few weeks ago, Tom Riddle hasn’t spared you a second glance since first year and why would he? You are… Well, you’re you. Angry at the world, melodramatic, and apparently, a budding dark sorcerer. It’s strangely reassuring to realise that it’s these things that he likes about you.
“Why wouldn’t we be? We’ve been spending plenty of time together, we have similar interests, we know things about each other that no one else does,” He’s circling you now, sweeping closer and closer until he’s right in front of you, perched elegantly against one of the desks. “What else would you call us?” He sounds so… calm. Congenial. Like it’s the most obvious and simple thing in the world. Except that there’s nothing congenial about the heat that flickers in the depths of his eyes.
He cocks his head to the side, as though considering something very carefully, and then reaches out and catches your hand. With the same surprising strength that he’d displayed the last time you’d been in the dungeons alone with him, he pulls you forwards. Velocity and inertia work in tandem and you stumble towards him, prevented from collapsing against his chest only by his hand that moves to clasp your waist. Unbidden, your hands move to rest on his thighs. You can feel the way his muscles tense under your touch and you wonder if he’s as affected by the sudden proximity as you are. You wonder if his heart is tripping over itself the way yours is. You wonder (and a distant part of your mind laughs at the ridiculousness of the thought even as you think it) if he wants you the way you find yourself wanting him: entirely. You want to wrap yourself around every part of him, insert yourself into every aspect of his being. You’ve never considered yourself to be a possessive person before; you might have to start reconsidering that now.
You feel, more than you hear, his short sharp intake of breath and he spreads his legs just enough to provide a space for you. You press forward, tucking yourself between his legs, hands on his thighs, emotion and heat and, god, want flooding through you with all the unstoppable force of a tsunami crashing over a seawall. His eyes flicker between yours as he brushes a lock of hair away from your eyes, tucking it carefully behind your ear. He tilts your head up and lowers his until his lips are barely grazing yours. There’s something almost tentative about the way he holds himself, as though he’s holding himself back.
Nervous. You think he might be nervous. And isn’t that just the most delicious thought?
Your heart thrums wildly in your chest and your fingers tighten instinctively against the fabric of his trousers. “Definitely not friends,” You whisper against his lips before you finally give in to the want that’s been building inside of you for weeks.
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)
#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle x oc#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle imagines#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle fic#tom riddle fanfic#tom riddle fanfiction#minific#jinxqsu
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Hey Kait… weird question but would you mind sharing how you were diagnosed? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but what you are describing sounds eerily similar to something I went through 5 years ago. But my doctors never figured out what it was
I'll put this under a Read More just in case the eating problems, bodily issues, weight mentions, or things that might make people uncomfortable of that nature.
So, for me, I spent months not knowing what was wrong with me because people do not guess that you have a rare disease right off the bat. My family has a history of Crohn's. So, that was one of the first assumptions. That got ruled out rather quickly. As did pretty much every other disorder that you can think of. I won't delve into the medical abuse and gaslighting that I suffered but lemme just say that getting back tests that say "You're fine! This is negative" is not what you want to hear when you're sick.
We ran every test that you can possibly check for stomach problems back when I still had some insurance that covered that stuff. If you ever want to know about specific tests for stomach disorders, just ask me, I've taken that exam, and all of them suck! You have to do a process of elimination for a lot of possible disorders. I actually went through everything and then a Nurse Practitioner brought up that it sounded like it could be Gastroparesis. So, I wound up getting the order to run that test.
Bear in mind, this was nearly 7-9 months later of test after test after test. The test for GP is a gastric emptying study. You eat something that morning, they run dye through you and sit in a machine while it studies how long your stomach works on food. There are people who have GP that can use their stomach to a certain %, there are people who have no % of digestion. Some people need feeding tubes, some people need diet changes, etc. Some people have flares that last for a long time and slow down, some people have constant problems like me.
I spent those months constantly being unable to eat while my stomach was on the cusp of imploding from the food sitting inside without the ability to escape. I lost over 120lbs within 6 months of that time and I am lucky to be alive. I don't know if you have GP, but the problems don't disappear overnight. There are good days and bad days, but it's a constant. There's a lot of stomach disorders, so with no details, I can't say for sure what you might've been dealing with! I'm sorry to hear you had a hard time.
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Helen Arlet’s Favorite Cryptids
#7 The Fresno Nightcrawlers
This is a new one for me that I only just recently learned about. I don’t even know how I missed these guys before now... But I’m instantly fascinated with them. They are just so weird and cute. And we have multiple cases of them caught on video?! I love this already!
Do I believe in them?
Well I’m new to the whole Fresno Nightcrawler scene, but for now I’m going to have to say no... I’ve watched the videos of these guys and I’m trying to figure out what they actually are, but weird alien creatures isn’t at the top of my list. The first video could very easily just be a guy in a sheet. I could see how that could be done. The second video that was captured of them almost looks more like puppets to me, but I just can’t figure out how the puppeteering would have been done... Either way I’m fascinated by it. Who knows... Maybe I’ll change my mind as I delve deeper into it.
#6 Snallygaster
I honestly don’t don’t know a ton about Snallygaster. I know it’s the signature cryptid of Maryland and I lived in Maryland for a short time... so I guess I have some attachment to it that way... I know he’s a big tentacle dragon and he looks pretty cool... But that’s about the extent of what I know. I haven’t taken the time to do research on him yet. I think honestly, I just really like the name. Snallygaster... That’s just fun to say. Say it with me... Snallygaster...
Do I believe in him?
Not at the moment, but then I haven’t really looked into this guy yet so I haven’t seen what kind of evidence is out there to support the belief of such a creature. I just look at the pictures of him and I feel like if such a thing existed, we’d probably be hearing about it... a lot... like every time he swooped out of the sky and snatched someone off the street...
#5 The Wampus Cat
It’s a big cat with 6 legs. And it might possibly be a shape shifting woman. That’s pretty cool. Plus she’s also the signature cryptid of my home state of Tennessee. I may not exactly like certain things about Tennessee, but I’ve still got to show some loyalty to our state cryptid. Funny thing is, despite the fact that I moved to Florida when I was very little and grew up there, even then I knew about this thing and heard about it all the time. We actually believed there was a Wampus Cat living in the woods there in the town I grew up in. I even knew an old man who had claimed to have been attacked by it. So the Wampus Cat has always been a part of my childhood.
Do I believe in her?
Debatable... Do I believe in a shape shifting cat woman with six legs? Probably not... But Tennessee has a lot of panther sightings. People see panthers, especially black panthers, around here all the time. And the thing is... officially there are no black panthers (or any other kind of panthers) in Tennessee. Officially, Tennessee doesn’t have any kind of cat larger than a bobcat. Black panthers, which are just a variant of jaguars, are extinct in the United States. But people still see them here all the time. It’s just kind of a known fact they are here regardless of what anyone else says. So hey... Maybe that’s just the Wampus Cat? *Shrugs*
#4 The Van Meter Visitor
The Van Meter Visitor is super interesting because it’s one of the few cryptids that is really hard to disprove, and yet, hardly anyone ever talks about it. It’s one of the more obscure cryptids out there to the point where I’d bet nine out of ten people reading this list have never even heard of it before. And you may be thinking, it’s a big pterodactyl with a horn on its head that shoots light... How is that hard to disprove? But when you think about it, this isn’t just some random cryptid with a few isolated sightings by a couple random people who may or may not be trustworthy. An entire town saw this thing. In 1903 the Van Meter Visitor terrorized the entire town of Van Meter, Iowa for days before they tracked down its nesting place and then the whole town showed up to shoot it and it’s mate(?), which they in fact did. Yeah, the creatures vanished into the mines after being shot at and were never seen again... so there’s no body... But it doesn’t change the fact that an entire town saw these things multiple times, lived in fear of them, and then finally shot them. So regardless if you believe it was a pterodactyl that could shoot light from its horn, there was obviously some kind of creature terrorizing the town of Van Meter that October in 1903. And the fact that it was so widely sighted just makes it really interesting to me.
Do I believe in it?
Like I said. Something terrorized that town that week. I believe that much. Was it a spotlight pterodactyl? I’m open enough to consider the possibility... But I’m also open enough to consider the possibility that it was something more on the normal side and it being 1903 people just didn’t know what they were looking at. We can’t really rule out mass hysteria as a possibility.
#3 The Jackalope
I simply love Jackalopes. I’ve thought they were awesome ever since I was a kid. I even used to love those creepy Jackalope videos they used to run on America’s Funniest People (Remember that show? Don’t feel bad if you don’t...) There’s just something weirdly captivating about the idea of a vicious rabbit with antlers.
Do I believe it in?
Well, despite the fact that I have an “I believe in Jackalopes” patch on my jacket, no, I don’t actually believe they exist. I’m a reasonable enough person to understand the history of Jackalopes and know where it came from. I wish they were real, but I know they aren’t.
#2 The Flatwoods Monster
The Flatwoods Monster is equal parts cute and creepy, which is really cool. She’s nowhere near as popular as Mothman, despite the fact that they are both West Virginia cryptids, and that’s kind of a shame. She certainly has one of the coolest designs of any cryptid. And her story is pretty interesting too. It’s one of those cryptid stories I still sit and ponder over.
Do I believe in her?
Not exactly...? I’m highly skeptical of aliens. Now did something happen in Flatwoods, West Virginia on September 12, 1952? Yeah. Something clearly happened. And the reports are strange enough that I can’t quite figure out what exactly happened... But as for the monster herself, as cool as she is, it’s more likely that she was just an owl in a tree that a group of people panicking in the dark mistook for a giant alien.
#1 Nessie
Of course Nessie has to be my favorite. She’s my home girl. Okay... Nessie is Scottish and I’m Scots-Irish, with more Irish than Scottish, but it’s close enough. I’ve still got some Scottish in me. Plus she’s like, a big dinosaur, so we have that in common as well. And Nessie was the first cryptid I ever truly believed in so how could she not be number one on my list? I love this girl.
Do I believe in her?
I’m going to say yes. There is totally something down there. There’s enough evidence at this point that it would be harder to convince me there isn’t something down there. We’ve got scientists who are now saying she’s a big turtle, and I guess that’s possible... probably more possible than an actual plesiosauria... Although I haven’t seen a ton of evidence to support the turtle idea yet... But whatever you want to think she is, I certainly think there’s something down there.
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Respite (The Magnus Archives)
Whumptober 2020 Day Twenty Three: Exhaustion
Fandom: The Magnus Archives
Characters: Jonathan Sims, Sasha James, Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard, Rosie
Summary: Archiving is hard work, but someone’s got to do it.
Or, five people who caught Jonathan Sims sleeping on the job.
“Alright Jon, I think I’m going to head out-oh.”
Sasha had been gone for five minutes, tops. And yet here was Jonathan Sims, fast asleep in his chair and using her messenger bag as a pillow. And snoring.
They worked late into the night on some hunch Jon had - once he got on a research kick, there was no stopping him. Sasha wasn’t much better. They encouraged the worst in each other sometimes, but that’s how they got their sterling reputations as researchers. So this was not an unfamiliar scene.
But it was ten at night and Sasha had been looking forward to finally getting home, putting her feet up and knocking back a glass of wine or two. They had hit a dead end and wouldn’t be able to continue until tomorrow, anyway. Jon had begrudgingly agreed and she popped over to the bathroom only to return to...this.
It couldn’t be comfortable. Her bag was covered in buttons and pins, some particularly pointy. It wasn’t exactly clean either; it had been thrown on one too many questionable surfaces in the past few months. But Jon seemed comfortable, if his open mouth and the tiny bit of drool currently on the front pouch were anything to go by. Gross.
She contemplated waking him up. He would want to head home soon as well, the trains became entirely unpredictable the later it got and they boarded at the same station. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the dark shadows under his eyes, the small, wheezing breaths. The way his brow slightly furrowed even in sleep. The crankiness that increased as the week went on. If anyone deserved a quick rest, it was him.
Sasha had been in the job for three years before Jon came on. She cut her teeth in Artefact Storage for the first six months- initially she’d been excited to delve into the dangerous and mysterious objects they had on site, but that excitement quickly faded into dread after a week on the job. She got the first transfer out into research, much more her speed. She was steadily making her way up the ladder and was now trusted to train new hires and interns. Ergo, Jon.
When she first met him, she honestly thought he wouldn’t make it far. He was fresh out of college, twitchy and short-tempered with an intermittent stutter. She didn’t fault him for that of course, but that didn’t save him from the judgment of others. No one wanted to get within a mile of him until Sasha volunteered her services in a rare moment of pity. His hand was dry and shook in hers when they were introduced; he was clearly not used to touch, though surely he must have shaken many a hand by now.
Sasha was good at teaching, though she wasn’t very interested in it. “You should teach!” so many of her friends and family members said. Sasha hated being told what to do even more than she hated teaching.
Jon was a difficult student. He had constant questions that Sasha patiently answered. He did not take criticism well, once getting up and walking away for an hour after Sasha fixed his grammar. He couldn’t seem to focus, which was not at all promising in a career that demanded it. Still, she worked with him as a sort of pet project. If she could make a functioning researcher out of Jon, she could prove herself worthy of respect and perhaps a promotion or two herself. So she figured out how Jon ticked- what worked for him and what didn’t. It took some hard work but Jon opened up bit by bit, giving her more insight into the person he was. And he wasn’t all that bad, once you got past the prickly exterior. He was whip-smart with a dry, clever humor that Sasha could appreciate. When he got on the trail of something interesting, he followed it to the end with a dogged determination. Sasha found herself opening up in turn, talking to him about her past jobs in academia and her frustrations with the Institute. They had a lot in common, it turned out. Both were academics at their core, finding debate and discussion endlessly entertaining. They both had a soft spot for nice wine and greasy pub food. And they were both constantly underestimated and overlooked- Sasha, as a woman in her field with a tendency towards “aggressive behavior” which in any man would just be called confidence and expertise, Jon with his inability to read social situations, the stutter in his voice that undermined his points, and the painful earnestness in every word he said, no matter how pointed. So yes, they got on. He made her laugh. That was hard to do these days.
Five more minutes, she promised, sitting back down at the table with a fond look to her companion. Thirty minutes later she woke him up, smiling at his panicked embarrassment and laughing in exhilaration as they ran to the station, just barely making the last train.
___________
What does Elias think he’s playing at, putting this poor young man in charge of the Archives?
Rosie had worked at the Magnus Institute for two decades and had seen many a manager come and go. She was Elias’s first and only secretary, coming in a bright-eyed young girl and now a tired, disillusioned woman firmly in middle age. You see a lot of things at the Institute. Sometimes you have to turn a blind eye.
When Gertrude Robinson went missing, Elias handled the situation with a bizarre aloofness that Rosie felt no need to question. Questioning things got you in trouble around here. But when he told Rosie of his plans for Jonathan Sims, she had to stop herself from scoffing. She had seen the way Elias spoke to him, mentoring him in a way he never had with any other employee. Perhaps he just had a fondness for the boy, though she wasn’t sure what he had done to earn it. Jon never got used to Elias’s presence, constantly jumping at a hand on his shoulder and laughing nervously through any of their conversations. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so pitiful.
But to make him Head Archivist? The man had only been here four years, there were plenty of other researchers and staff members who had not only seniority but the credentials to match. Jonathan Sims had an Oxford pedigree, impressive to be sure, but in Literature and History. It didn’t help that he seemed one missing file away from a nervous breakdown at all times. And they were going to give him an entire department to manage? A department that was in shambles and hadn’t been properly handled in the last fifty or so years? Good luck, kiddo.
She had been a little short with him the day he took the position- she had a monster of a headache and he wasn’t exactly making it easy on her, what with his questions about Gertrude and his ridiculous little proclamations of “I don’t believe in ghosts!” But the sincere gratitude in his voice as he told her to thank Elias for the opportunity came back to her hours later. You have no idea what you’re in for. It seemed almost sadistic to put a man like that in charge of the Archives.
The situation never seemed to improve. From what little she saw of him in the hallways, he always looked haggard and on edge. When he stood in front of Elias’s door waiting to be let in for another meeting (Elias had been scheduling a lot of them as of late), his hands fidgeted and his feet shuffled. She felt bad for him, when she remembered to. She had twenty years to get used to Elias, but he seemed to get worse with every visit to his office.
It was with a reluctant sigh that she took the paperwork from Elias and headed down to the Archives. Just a few things that slipped my mind on the last visit, so sorry Rosie. It was the end of the day and she was punctual to a fault, meaning she very rarely stayed past five unless Elias requested it. Even the Archives were empty- the assistants had all filtered out earlier and her footsteps echoed in silence as she made her way to the Head Archivist’s office.
“Mr. Sims?” she called, immediately regretting the choice of name. It sounded unnatural coming out of her mouth. “Jon, are you in there?” There was no one in his desk chair, though his bag and coat were still accounted for. She was not about to do a scavenger hunt through the Archives, the place gave her the creeps and it got worse with each passing minute. She contemplated just leaving them on his desk when she saw a half-opened door labeled “Document Storage.” I’ll just peek in, can’t hurt.
“Jon?” she called again, creaking open the door and peering inside. It was not very well-lit; half of the lights were flickering like something out of a horror film. No one answered her. “Jon, if you’re here I have a few papers for you to sign. I’ll just leave them on your desk-” It was then she noticed a cot in the corner. That’s not allowed, she thought testily. It was rumpled- somebody had used it recently, she deduced. And then she looked down to the floor to find one leg sticking out from under the cot. She shrieked, grabbing at her chest as she slowly made her way over, unsure of whether she was about to die or if she had to call an ambulance.
She kneeled down gingerly, her legs trembling as she found one Jonathan Sims entangled with a small, tattered blanket and snoring softly, completely lost to the world. She sighed in relief and no small amount of irritation- the man had just taken about three years off her life, at least. And what was he doing under the cot? Such a strange thing, that Jonathan Sims.
She reached out and grabbed his arm, giving it a good shake. “Jon!” He kept right on sleeping, completely ignorant to her entreaties. She gave him another, harder shake- nothing. This is ridiculous. She leaned in closer and opened her mouth to give one last deafening shriek of his name. “Jon!”
That did the trick. Too well, one might say.
Jon immediately sat up, which wasn’t a good idea- he only had a few inches of room left under the bed and ended up slamming his head against the metal rungs and leaning back down with a cry. “Agh!” he squeezed his eyes shut as she reached out her hand in apology.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she babbled, patting his arm. “It’s just, you weren’t waking up and- are you alright?” His silence was worrying. Oh god, Elias is going to murder me if I’ve killed his Archivist.
“Yes,” he hissed, awkwardly sliding out from under the bed in a sort of shimmying motion and rubbing at his forehead. Luckily he hadn’t broken any skin, it was just red at the point of impact. “What on earth- ah, Rosie!” The instant switch in tone as his eyes focused on her form would be amusing in any other situation. “So sorry, d-did Elias need anything from me?”
She paused, considering the man in front of her. He looked bad, really bad, like call-the-doctor-bad. Thinner than ever with dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t had a good nights’ sleep in weeks, if ever. And that look in his eyes, the change in his voice as soon as he noticed her- Elias had sway even through proxy. Suddenly Mr. Sims was all eager-to-please, as if he hadn’t just been caught collapsed under a bed in sheer exhaustion.
“What are you doing under there?” is what she asked, though she did not mean to. She wasn’t really supposed to care about anyone in the institute and she’d done a good job of it thus far. But something about this situation felt off, even to her.
He ran a hand through messy hair (he’s going gray so young) and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Ah, just a- I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.” He made no attempt to explain his odd choice of napping area. “If you could please not tell Elias-”
“Of course,” she assured, again strangely protective of the silly little man in front of her. “Think nothing of it- just need you to sign a few papers, is all.” She got up to allow him room to move, ignoring the creaking of limbs far too young to sound so bad. “Should probably use the bed next time, dear. That floor’s got to be horrible on your back.”
Jon blushed, grabbing at the papers and looking anywhere but her eyes. “Yes, well,” he shifted his feet, gesturing at the tattered blanket he had extracted himself from. “I’ve got that, so it’s fine.”
She fixed him with a dubious stare, but let him have this one. He headed back to his office to grab a pen, limping in obvious pain. The papers were signed and they said their goodbyes, Rosie heading home and Jon heading back to Document Storage, whether to sleep or work she couldn’t tell.
In her next round of discretionary spending, she ordered a few pillows and a nice knitted throw for the Archives. The break room had been looking a bit drab, it deserved a little sprucing up.
______________
“Mr. Stoker, if you could come get your Archivist I’d be much obliged.”
“I’m on it, Janice.”
Tim sighed. Just another Wednesday night at the Magnus Institute.
Jon was running them ragged with investigations, following up on every statement he deemed ‘unsatisfactory’ in terms of research. So far, he had deemed almost every statement as so. It was not very fun.
Tim had taken pains to finish his research bright and early, wanting to get home as quickly as possible and finish up the series he’d been binging. This plan included the added plus of avoiding the worms that had been showing up outside the institute over the past couple of days. But then Jon had come out of his office, looking sad and lost as he handed over another statement for Tim to work on. “Tomorrow is fine, Tim,” Jon said, in an uncharacteristic show of generosity. “No need to worry.” Tim was worried now, for an entirely different reason.
He promised himself he would only stay an extra hour, just to make sure Jon got home alright. That was two hours ago. Jon had apparently snuck out to the library without him noticing, and now needed to be fetched for reasons Tim was pretty sure he could guess at.
Jon was never really on good terms with the librarians. What he lacked in charm, he did not make up for in well, anything really. He got upset when a book was in the wrong place; he was very short whenever something would take longer than a few minutes. He constantly hid from the librarians when it was time to close- one night he was quite literally chased out by Janice, and another night he was locked in (also by Janice) and didn’t even notice.
So finding him tucked in between two bookshelves fast asleep was not surprising in the least. It didn’t look comfortable but Jon seemed fairly relaxed, crammed as he was. This had happened more than a few times back in research but never recently. And never was he quite so hidden away, not even a limb giving away his position. He knew Jon liked his small spaces, but even this was pushing it. Janice hadn’t attempted to wake him, knowing what a fools errand it would be. “That boy could sleep through the end of days, I reckon,” she said as she opened the door for Tim and ushered him down the aisles. “I don’t know how he does it.”
“That makes two of us,” Tim mumbled as he crouched down in front of the man he previously called a friend and now a boss. “Jon? You up, mate?”
No response. Typical. Tim could keep this going for the rest of the night, or he could take matters into his own hands.
Let it never be said that Tim wasn’t hands-on.
He managed to maneuver Jon into his arms without waking the man, a feat he’d perfected over the years. Jon, for his part, just slumped into his chest and muttered some nonsense under his breath that Tim couldn’t make out. Jon was a fairly vocal sleep-talker, something he found endlessly amusing. This situation was anything but amusing, however, and he could barely summon up a smile to give Janice as he carted his boss back down to the Archives.
Jon was falling back into old habits. He was becoming distant and moody, snapping at any inquiry about his health or well-being. It took all of Tim’s strength not to snap back at times. Sasha helped keep him in check, giving him warning glances whenever she believed he went too far, which was happening more and more often. He was afraid for the frail man in his arms. He had a strange sense of impending calamity that woke him up in the middle of the night, heart racing like it did after his encounter with the circus. It awoke a strange, primal fear inside of him that Tim couldn’t control and it crept in more and more by the day.
Even when Jon was safe and comfortable, tucked neatly into the cot in Document Storage, the fear didn’t ease. He wanted to stay and keep watch, though that didn’t make much sense. The Archives were probably the safest place to be. Nothing could reach them in this dank, dusty prison cell of a workplace. Not even Prentiss. But he was tired, so he decided to leave Jon to his dreams and chew him out tomorrow morning. Now wasn’t the time.
He took a quick detour to his desk and back to Document Storage before he left, throwing one of his cardigans over Jon’s sleeping form. Just in case he gets cold, he reasoned. In reality, he didn’t know who it was actually for- Jon or himself. Maybe both.
_________
This is ridiculous.
Initially, he had been happy and slightly proud to see his Archivist stumbling back into work, bleeding and freshly marked by the Corruption. He of course told him the opposite, encouraging him to take all the time available to him to recover. But his Archivist was nothing if not stubborn, and watching him limp about the Archives, paranoid and afraid, was a wonder to behold.
Today, however, might not have been the best time to come back.
The Magnus Institute, on paper, had a fully functioning HR department. That this HR department only included one incredibly overworked woman who was willing to let many things slide in order to collect a paycheck was no matter. They still had to observe the basic requirements that came along with it, and that included having mandatory yearly training in things such as workplace harassment. The modern workplace truly was a marvel - as if anyone willing to commit these acts would be cowed by one seminar.
But here they were on a Thursday afternoon, every supervisor gathered in the conference room to undergo ‘mandatory training’ in sensitive subject matters. The training wasn’t actually training at all but an instructional video of about thirty minutes. It was quite literally the least they could do- Elias wasn’t about to go wasting precious money on hiring more professionals to help them avoid inappropriate conduct. That’s what lawyers were for, after all.
Jon had stumbled in once the video had already begun, looking bedraggled and worse for wear. The only seat left was in the back, conveniently located right next to Elias. He gave his Archivist a short nod and glanced back at the screen with a bored detachment, watching from another pair of judging eyes as Jon stumbled and struggled his way around his colleagues, murmuring apologies.
He didn’t acknowledge Jon’s greeting, preferring instead to keep him at a distance. He didn’t want him to get too comfortable with him, not at this early stage. But he still noted the exhaustion in his features with some concern- he did need him semi-functioning, how else would they get any statements recorded?
Jon managed valiantly to stay awake for the first ten minutes before he started to nod off, his head jerking backwards in a sad attempt at consciousness. Elias rolled his eyes, clearing his throat several times in an effort to keep him awake. He didn’t much care for Jon’s dignity, but it was rather embarrassing for him to have an Archivist who couldn’t stay awake for a mere thirty minutes once the lights were down.
But then it started to veer into dangerous territory. Jon was slumping down further and further in his seat, each jerk awake more distracting than the last. Elias would ask him to leave if he didn’t think he would collapse on his way out the door and cause even more of a commotion. No, it would be fine to let him sleep if his head wasn’t constantly listing to the left, further and further and- Christ.
Jon’s head found purchase on his shoulder and there he remained, finally content to doze in peace.
They were tucked far enough in the corner that nobody could really see unless they strained their eyes. Everyone else was either watching the video or falling asleep themselves. Elias considered his options- he could wake the man, knowing the force required to do so would only cause a scene, or he could let him sleep until the end credits rolled- credits he knew were incredibly loud, and thus would cover up any yelp the Archivist emitted upon waking.
Both were terrible choices. If Elias had his way Jon would have collapsed back in the Archives and avoided this mess entirely. He would also have the added bonus of being able to scold him later- a win-win, certainly. But alas, it was not meant to be. He sacrificed his pride and let the man continue to sleep on his shoulder, tensing as much as he could to keep Jon from slipping further down into a more embarrassing position. The added irony of the subject on the screen- Unwanted Workplace Advances- was not lost on him.
At least the man was having unpleasant dreams. He contented himself with watching the Archivist flit across his nightmares, running from worms and spiders and whatever other horrors his mind conjured. It was much more entertaining than the video on the screen.
And then the credits rolled. A few seconds before they began, Elias placed a firm hand on Jon’s shoulder and shook him once, hard. Just in time, the outdated, cheesy music blasted from the speakers and nicely covered his Archivist's shriek of terror and subsequent heavy breathing as his eyes shot open, panicked. No one was the wiser to that little display.
His hand turned light, friendly. Just a boss showing concern for an unwell employee. “Jon, are you alright?” he asked, schooling his face into a parental sort of worry. That always seemed to work well with Jon- he was much more apt to be agreeable when the authority figure in question made it personal. “Do you need to go home?”
His eyes could barely focus as everyone else in the room stood up, yawning and stretching and milling about. “I-yes, I think I just need a lie down.” Elias nodded in faux-concern, helping the man to his feet.
Jon didn’t say a word as he walked him past the front door and into the Archives. He knew he had work to do.
________
Jon was in the way.
This was not a sentence Martin Blackwood had ever thought before. Even when Jon was technically in the way, he wasn’t, not really. Wherever Jon was, was wherever Jon needed to be. Whether it was standing in front of Martin when he needed to get to the break room, or blocking the water cooler as he lectured Tim about ‘workplace standards,’ Martin wasn’t going to ask him to move. Fighting with the man was absolutely exhausting and a lesson in futility.
But Jon was literally in his way. As in if he didn’t move, Martin would not be able to do his job for the rest of the day.
The man was curled on top of a box of files, the exact box of files that Martin needed to access. He wasn’t moving- Martin had thought at first that he was dead, but his slow, even breaths disproved that. Why would he choose this spot to take a nap? It couldn’t be comfortable- his back was hunched and his bad leg stuck out at an awkward angle. His arms were sprawled over the box as if guarding it. Sasha had told him a few stories from their research days, but he had never seen the man asleep over anything but his desk. Jon was looking far too vulnerable these days, and Martin didn’t know what to do with that.
“Jon?” he tried quietly. The man didn’t stir. Figures. He wanted to reach out and shake him awake, but his wounds were barely healed and kept opening up, probably from his nighttime escapades. He didn’t want to be the cause of more of Jon’s pain. So he stood there awkwardly, shifting from side to side as his boss continued his slumber.
“Something wrong?” Martin jumped at the sound of Tim’s voice- Jon did not. He was leaning in the doorway, looking almost as tired as Jon and definitely in need of a nap as well. He recovered a bit better, having taken every day allotted to him. But that didn’t mean he was back at peak performance. Tim followed his gaze to the floor and rolled his eyes upon seeing Jon asleep. ‘Really?” Tim was very irritated these days. Martin didn’t blame him.
“I didn’t know what to do!” he whispered back, though he probably didn’t need to keep his voice down. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I need that box-”
“Just move him,” Tim replied unkindly, making his way over. “He won’t wake up, he’s a very heavy sleeper, honest.” He reached out a hand to grab Jon’s shoulder but Martin stopped him.
“N-No!” he stuttered forcefully, well aware of Tim’s attitude towards Jon these days. “I’ll just, I can wait, I guess-”
“You said he was in your way.” With a wince Tim crouched down, placing an arm around Jon’s waist and hoisting him over his shoulder in one smooth, practiced move. “See?” he said, also whispering. “Not a peep.” It was true, Jon hadn’t stirred one bit. It was also very concerning. He watched as Tim slowly made his way across the room to the cot, placing Jon in bed with an infinite care he didn’t think the man capable of. Like hands at a piano remembering a well-practiced tune, Tim’s body played out a gentleness he no longer felt, not anymore. He even placed a blanket over Jon, pausing for a moment to look down at him. Martin couldn’t see the look on his face and couldn’t guess at what it was.
“There.” He turned around and abruptly exited the room, not sparing another glance at either of them. When Martin looks back at this moment, he’ll wonder if that’s the last kindness Tim ever offered Jon, and how sad it was that he wasn’t even awake to see it.
________________
A year later and Martin finds himself standing over Jon, watching him sleep. He is curled around a tape recorder. The light is on, it’s recording. For what end, Martin does not know.
He slips an arm around Jon’s waist like he saw Tim once do. Jon shivers- Martin is very cold these days, so he doesn’t fault him. He deposits him in the cot he knows so well- he will be safe here. Warm. Basira is here, and Melanie- they’ll look out for him, in their own way. He pauses, looking down at the man in the bed. He is alive, but Martin couldn’t tell you if he is breathing.
He does not visit the Archives again.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162460
#whumptober2020#exhaustion#no.23#fic#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#tim stoker#sasha james#elias bouchard#my writing#jonmartin#not a lot but its there#not really any cws
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Sometimes a Great Notion
This is one of those old movies my mom requested that we couldn’t even find at our local library. It’s incredibly hard to track down, which says more about how easily lost our film history and culture can be as we move from format to format rather than its quality as a film, but that is another conversation. Basically this 1971 film is the second that Paul Newman directed, and it tells the story of the Stamper family, a family who run an independent logging business in a town where the local logging union has gone on strike. As independents, they take the union’s former contracts and as the film goes on, the consequences of that choice become larger and larger, and depending on your perspective, this is either an indomitable tale of the perseverance of the human spirit or a disheartening look at everything that makes America the end-stage capitalist nightmare it currently is.
Some thoughts:
It appears that I’m supposed to think Henry Fonda, as the patriarch of the Stamper clan, is a charming old coot, like an Archie Bunker type, complaining about Commie pinko socialists and calling his estranged son a New York fairy. I’m not really seeing the charm here.
I’m not 100% sure what’s going on with this subplot where Joe B (Richard Jaekel) and his wife apparently attend the Church of God and the Metaphysical Science...so maybe they’re cult members too? That never really gets delved into, which is a head scratcher.
I feel like with this dialogue they’re supposed to be kind of...gruff and jokey with each other, but I really don’t get it. None of it seems funny at all, just aggro.
I think I'm just really confused about what exactly this movie IS. It’s not a character study because we’re learning so little about these people. It doesn’t seem to be a David vs. Goliath small business taking on The Man story because the whole union vs. Stamper family thing doesn’t seem to be anything the Stampers are that concerned about. Leeland (Michael Sarrazin) coming back after a long absence is certainly a wrinkle, but no one is actually delving into what that means for the family or how they feel about it. Like the purpose of the film seems to just be “these are some people doing their jobs and going about their business for a couple hours.”
Like for real, there are multiple really long segments that just show them doing logging shit.
And listen, I’m not one of those people that only wants to watch media where I like the characters. There are a lot of bad people and evil characters that I don’t want to emulate and would absolutely hate to be around in real life that I REALLY enjoy watching. Hell, in the last year, my main TV hyperfixations have been Succession and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. So it’s not the fact that the Stampers are sexist, stubborn, union-busting jackasses. I just don’t really care about any of them and I question why I should care about their story because the movie isn’t doing a very good job at convincing me.
There are some Very Good Dogs! At least that’s something.
This would be a way more interesting movie if Leeland and Viv (Hank’s wife, played with stunning grace by Lee Remick) hook up because Leeland is the only one who talks to her or listens to what she has to say. He sees her in a way no one else in the family sees these women at all. ESPECIALLY because even though Henry is Leeland’s father, Hank had an affair with Leeland’s mother too, which is deeply disturbing because we find out he was 14 and she was 30. Fuck, now there’s statutory rape and unresolved trauma involved. Wouldn’t this be a fantastic thing to actually talk about and delve into? Wouldn’t this whole relationship entanglement and the ripple effects it’s had on this family be really interesting? NOT ACCORDING TO PAUL NEWMAN I GUESS.
As much as I love Paul Newman, I’m really questioning a lot of his directorial choices, too. He can’t control the story or the script so much (this is based on a Ken Kesey novel) but other choices are baffling. The pacing is a mess. Some scenes go on for what seems like forever for no reason, others are brutally short or feel cut off. The transitions between scenes are all these quick cuts that don’t let anything breathe. Leeland and Viv’s deep, intimate conversation ends with her saying Hank’s satisfied and Leland asking “Are you?” and then BOOM next scene where bluegrass kicks in and they’re all riding motorcycles. What should have been a body blow of a moment gets its legs cut out right from underneath, and it’s a damn shame.
“To work and eat and screw and sleep and drink and keep on going, that’s for what. That’s all there is.” - the film’s central thesis, uttered by Henry Stamper in his big Oscar-worthy monologue. Which in a nihilist sort of way I agree with, but there’s a big fat asterisk that gets ignored here: if you’re doing those things and directly, knowingly causing the suffering of others - and you can make choices that AVOID that as much as possible, and you DON’T - well that’s where your philosophy turns to shit, I’m afraid.
And the consequences of that philosophy are laid bare when the Stamper family has one HELL of a bad day. Play stupid games and win stupid prizes.
I really thought the movie was going to end with Hank sitting alone in his dark, quiet house drinking beer and feeling sorry for himself and maybe reflecting on the enormous cost of his decisions. Instead the movie ends with Hank displaying his father’s severed arm at the top of his boat, flipping the bird to the town he’s turned his back on. And frankly it’s a big “fuck you” to the audience as well, for thinking that the Stamper family could learn or grow or see outside of their own rugged individualism for one second.
Did I Cry? I probably should have, but any emotional weight the tragedies we watch hold gets completely deflated when no one learns a goddamn thing from them.
All things considered, this movie is a perfect encapsulation of the toxic attitudes that have yielded every single moral failing of America from its inception. The myth of the American frontiersman, pulling himself up by his bootstraps, owing nothing to no one and simply trying to work hard and provide for his own family - it’s all wrapped up in the same wars (both literal and figurative) we’ve been fighting for centuries. We’re supposed to cheer at the Stampers for sticking to their guns and moving forward to get the job done no matter the cost, and that’s precisely the fucking problem. Costs matter, especially when they’re paid in human lives. And I would be more willing to view this film as a fascinating artifact of attitudes that have gone by the wayside if we weren’t having the same damn argument today. As a result, it ends up just feeling frustrating.
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#121in2021#sometimes a great notion#sometimes a great notion review#paul newman#henry fonda#lee remick#michael sarrazin#richard jaekel#movie reviews#film reviews#patreon review
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Demon-Styled Pick Me Up!
The intro to a quick little series as a thank you for 100 followers!! Thank you guys, it really did sneak up on me, but I had been having ideas like this for a while. When I started this blog I never expected to get to 100 so fast so it means a lot to me.
MC is stressed out and depressed. GN but AFAB! Be warned, as with each brother, they will delve into depressing topics. I will try to do each of them justice with their own full page once I get to them. I can’t work in order for this one, sorry everyone!!
SLIGHT Content Warning! Depressive themes.
You are a student here in RAD. You are expected to do your tasks, and do them well. You were forced here, to do tasks at RAD, struggle to survive, and work night and day (although with no sun to tell the difference, that was no easy task). Life here was hard, and it seemed like no one noticed that. You were trying, you spent your time studying with Satan, and trying to do extra credit work to make sure your grades were as good as they could be.
In the end, though, that was never enough. You were expected to learn the history of the Devildom, potions, spells, and other forms of math? You could barely tolerate algebra in the human world, how were you supposed to figure anything out here?
Lucifer made it known his disappointment in your grades. There were restrictions set in place to keep you from having any distractions. You were to arrive at RAD early and then return to the House of Lamentation on time to resume your studies. You were doing everything asked of you, and you did it all as good as you could. His expectations put you under a lot of pressure.
A human could crack... under so much pressure. And that's what was happening. Slowly, but surely.
You stopped eating, stopped having fun. You didn't smile as much anymore, even when the brothers were trying to make you. You only knew how to study, but you felt as though you weren't even doing that right anymore. You hardly slept, and your form was getting sloppier as the days went by.
Eventually, you took to locking yourself in your room. You suddenly felt out of place again. Surrounded by people who you felt didn't love you. And why would they? Who would want a disgusting, sickly, stupid human? You were only good for food, as Mammon put it months earlier. You had to agree; though you probably wouldn't taste as good. Still, you were worth something, being at the bottom of the food chain.
You were quiet. You always were somewhat quiet before, but this was a different sort of silent. They could all see it, the stress getting to you. The bags under your eyes, the forlorn looks. Your nails were being bitten, your hair was thinning out, you were starting to let yourself go quite a bit. All in all, you looked like you could use a day of peace. So they stayed away, mostly silent and out of the way. They figured, with some peace of mind, you would be back to normal in no time.
Days turned into weeks, and nothing seemed to be improving. You seemed to be deteriorating by the day, now. Something had to be done.
Dinner was prepared and it was something brand new. Lucifer usually wanted everyone present for dinner, but lately you had not been showing up. You would sometimes call out and say you were busy studying. Lucifer would allow it, since you needed the time to study anyways. However, your excuses never changed, and you remained away. There was a time when you only showed up to the table once in an entire week.
The brothers, all sitting at the table, seemed to all be thinking the same thing. They all exchanged looks, then looked towards your empty seat. Someone was going to have to have that talk with you...
#obey me#om!#obey me swd#obey me shall we date#obey me prompts#obey me brothers#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me mc#mc is depressed#comfort
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