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foundtherightwords · 19 days ago

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As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 16

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: non-explicit (almost) smut

Chapter word count: 4.2k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

Chapter 16

They settled into a new routine. It wasn't that different from their routine before, only with a lot more intimacy now. When Alba arrived in the morning, Derwin would greet her with a kiss; they often held hands across the table during lunch; and if they happened to brush against each other in a doorframe or along the corridor, they no longer shied away but would laugh and throw their arms around each other. When they went into town, Alba no longer waited in the car. In diners, they would share their milkshakes and fries without asking each other, and in movie theaters, she would put her head on Derwin's shoulder again, not to nap but just to enjoy being close to him. Sometimes they would drive round and round until they found a quiet beach and just sat on the sand, shoulder to shoulder, watching the waves, saying nothing at all.

Alba's favorite time, though, was the rare afternoon when there was no work left in the house and no errands to run. They would spread a blanket in the backyard under her beloved frangipani tree, and there, they would sit with his head on her lap or his arms wrapped around her and read their books, while Otto slept nearby on the sun-warmed grass. During those afternoons, she thought she'd be content just sitting like that, for the rest of her life.

The only thing that marred Alba's happiness was Derwin's apparent belief that their romance had an expiration date. He didn't mention it, but sometimes, he would hold on to her with a fierce passion that scared her a little, as if he were afraid she would slip through his fingers like water.

For her part, Alba never thought much about what the future might hold for them. She had learned not to look too far ahead, ever since that overcast December day in 1933, when her father announced that they were moving to America. They had been planning for Christmas, and Mami had asked him to give them a little more time to prepare, to say their goodbyes. No, Papi had said. They couldn't afford to wait any longer. And so they had spent their first Christmas in America with no friends, no families, and no presents either, because they had left in such a hurry. Who could have foreseen that? And who could have foreseen the war and the losses it would bring? Papi had always looked too far ahead, and look how it'd turned out for him. Look too far ahead, and there would only be questions and uncertainty, like looking into a curtain of mist. Look in front of you, find the problem, and try to solve it. That had always been her motto. But now, with Derwin, Alba found herself thinking of the future more and more often.

One day, when they were washing up after lunch—for Derwin insisted on helping her with cooking and cleaning now—he suddenly enveloped her from behind in a tight hug and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in.

"What are you doing?" Alba whispered, even as she was putting her arms on top of his and leaning back so she could feel more of him with more of her.

"Memorizing you," he said. He nuzzled the space between her shoulder blades and trailed his lips from her shoulder to behind her ear and back again.

"I'm still here," she reminded him. "And I'll be here tomorrow too. I'm not going anywhere."

"What about after the debt is paid?"

She suppressed a sigh. She wished he would stop talking about the stupid debt. "I told you, that has nothing to do with us," she said, turning around to face him. "Just because I don't have to work here anymore doesn't mean that I will stop seeing you."

A smile spread across his face, quivering a little, like a candle flame in a breeze. "Really?" he said.

"Of course." She wrapped her arms around his neck, the dishes forgotten. He turned and kissed the underside of her arm, heedless of the soap running down her wrist.

"We'll go on a proper date then?" he said.

"What are you talking about?" she said, laughing. "We've been on proper dates. We've been to the movies, to restaurants and soda fountains, and the beach. Those aren't proper dates?"

"I'd still like to take you somewhere special though," he said.

"I'm looking forward to it."

And because he was still looking unsure, she leaned over and kissed him, as both a reassurance and a promise, just a slow and gentle brushing of her lips over his in the way she knew he liked. Then his lips parted, as she knew they would, with a little sigh, and the kiss deepened. His arms went around her, a hand in her hair, the other on the small of her back, pressing her close. Her back hit the kitchen counter. She jumped on it and drew him toward her until he was standing between her legs, his face tilted up at her. The look in his eyes sent blood coursing through her, warming her cheeks and setting her pulse pounding in her throat, her breast, everywhere.

Leaning down, she kissed him again, not so slowly or gently this time, but with a hunger that only grew the more they kissed. Derwin trailed his lips down her throat, his breath blowing hot against her skin. Her skirt hiked up. She could feel a hard knot against her bare leg, through the fabric of his pants, and she edged forward a little, wrapping her legs around him, to feel it more firmly, to push herself closer to it. Derwin moaned softly into her mouth. He clung to her, his hands roaming over her blouse, trying to find an opening to touch more, to kiss more of her. She reached up to help him. Their fingers twisted around a button. It snatched on something. They both yanked, impatiently, and the collar of her blouse tore open with a ripping sound.

The noise reverberated in the quiet kitchen like the cracking of a whip, breaking them from the spell. Derwin pulled back with a gasp.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying in vain to put the torn collar back. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's fine. I can fix it." Alba held on to him, trying to keep the fire burning between them, but he was already stepping away from her.

"I didn't mean just your blouse." Derwin gave up trying to fix her collar and dropped his arms in defeat. "I meant—this—whatever I was trying to do to you—"

"You weren't doing anything to me," she said. "I was kissing you too." She jumped off the counter and started washing the dishes again. Derwin came to stand next to her.

"Look, Alba," he said, wringing the dish towel helplessly. "It's not that—not that I don't want you. But... it's not right." He paused, then corrected himself, "No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what we have is not right. It's just—"

"You don't have to apologize," Alba snapped, taking the dish towel from him a little more brusquely than she intended. Her nerves were still fizzing as if electricity was running through her, and the unquenched heat on her skin and inside her body made her irritated. "I said it's fine. I understand."

"It's just that—I don't want to get you into trouble," Derwin said.

"You mean get me pregnant?" He nodded, his face turning scarlet. Alba paused, her irritation fading slightly. "I guess you're right," she said. "It's not that I don't want kids. Just... not yet. There's so much I want to do first, so much I can't do if I have a kid." And at the thought of them having a child together, she blushed as well.

"I wish you didn't have to choose," he said.

"Me too. But that's how it is." She sighed. "Claudia was on track to be the assistant manager at the citrus farm where she worked during the war, but she gave it all up the moment Marty came back. She was happy to do it, but I know she still misses working sometimes."

"I don't want you to give up anything," said Derwin. "Not for me or anybody else."

How could she stay annoyed with him, when he said such sweet things? She smiled at him and handed him the dishtowel, and they went on with the dishes, the tension between them simmering down for now.

After they finished washing up, Alba retreated to the sewing room upstairs to fix her blouse as best she could. A part of her—a tiny, silly part—wondered what would happen if Derwin walked in now and found her sitting here in her bra, but another part of her—the rational one—knew nothing would happen. That was why she felt so safe around him. And that was also the source of her frustration.

Alba spent even less time thinking about sex than she did about romance. In her Catholic household, it was a taboo subject. She knew the basics of it, of course—mostly from gossiping with Claudia and Beatriz—but had never been particularly curious about it. Oh, there had been boys and kisses, fumbling ones under the bleachers at school, surreptitious ones in the dark of a movie theater, but it had never gotten further than that. Her parents had always made sure she knew not to go further than that, and she'd never wanted to anyway. Not until now, until she found herself in the arms of this sweet, gentle, damaged boy with his soft lips and sad eyes. But he wouldn't—or couldn't?—take the next step. He'd even said it wasn't right. How could it not be right, this fire between them, when every instinct in her convinced her otherwise?

She remembered how she'd felt him pressed against her inner thigh, and her entire body felt scorched again, from the roots of her hair all the way to her knees. The needle slipped through the fabric and went into her finger. "¡Mierda!" she muttered, putting the injured finger into her mouth. Perhaps she should just stop thinking about it.

Over the next few days, they tiptoed around each other, not talking much. Derwin seemed to have something up his sleeves though, and was more preoccupied than usual. One evening, as Alba was about to go home, he asked her to come as early as she could the next day. When she asked him what for, he only grinned and said it was a secret, and no amount of cajoling and wheedling and pretended sulks from her could get an answer out of him.

The next morning, Alba made up some lame excuse about having to drive Derwin to the hospital for an early check-up and left as the bakery was opening. Papi didn't question her, only grumbled about how "that boy was working you too hard". As she rode away on her bike, Alba chuckled to herself. If only Papi knew. She hardly saw her time at the Grunauer place as working now.

As early as she was, Derwin was already waiting with the car when she arrived. She tried to peer into the car to see if it contained any clue as to where they were going, but there was none. The only hint was a forlorn Otto watching them from inside the house.

"We're not taking him with us?" Alba asked.

"No," said Derwin. "He's going to upset—" Realizing he'd said too much, he stopped and rubbed Otto's head before locking the front door. "Sorry, boy. Be good, OK?" He then limped down the front steps and motioned for her to get into the passenger's seat. Alba's eyebrow went up. Although Derwin had been taking the wheel on short trips into town, he always preferred to let her drive. She climbed in anyway.

"You're really taking a leaf out of Marty's book, aren't you?" she said.

"Trust me, you're going to love this," he replied with a grin, sliding into the driver's seat.

He took the car down the lane, not heading east into town as usual, but west, until the lane merged with the Tamiami Trail. Alba knew not to ask any further questions, so she simply sat back and enjoyed the ride. It was a lovely day for a drive, cold but clear, without a cloud on the pale blue sky. As the sun rose higher, the blue of the sky deepened, the air inside the car warmed up, and they rolled down the windows to let in some of the cool December wind. The Everglades stretched out endlessly on either side of the Trail, saw-grass as far as the eyes could see, dotted here and there with hammocks of cypress and palm trees. There was not a soul about, and the only living beings other than the trees and the bushes were the occasional raccoon scurrying away from the road, or a bird flapping its tired wings overhead, searching for its nesting ground.

They must have driven for nearly half an hour when Derwin turned down a dirt trail lined with palmettos and pond cypresses. It led to a clearing, where a dilapidated hut stood under a cypress overlooking a canal. Derwin parked in front of the hut. An old Seminole man lounged on a chair outside the hut, his face as wrinkled as the bark of the cypress behind him. If it hadn't been for the puffs of smoke coming from his pipe, Alba would have thought he was a statue.

The old man opened an eye when he heard the two of them approach. "You kids want to rent a boat?" he asked in a voice as dry and cracked as the creaking of the tree branches.

Alba threw Derwin a curious look, which he ignored. "Yes," he told the old man.

The old man jumped up with an agility that belied his decrepit looks, and beckoned them to follow him behind the hut. The back porch of the hut extended into a rickety dock leading into the canal, and tied to the dock were a couple of motorboats. Given the ramshackle appearances of the hut, the dock, and the old man himself, Alba didn't expect much, but to her surprise, the boats looked well-maintained, their hulls gleaming in the sunlight.

"You know how to work it?" the old man asked. "Just start the engine and use that lever there to steer the rudder. Easy peasy."

Derwin counted out some money and handed it to the old man. "We'll pay the rest when we bring the boat back."

The old man tucked the money into the band of his battered hat and squinted up at the sun. "You kids better get a move on. I reckon you'll have an hour or two before the sun gets too high and they're all gone."

"What will be gone?" asked Alba, but Derwin was already leading her toward the boat.

"You know where to go, right?" the old man said, following them. "Straight down the canal, then turn right at the river junction until you hit the slough. Can't miss it."

"Thank you," Derwin said as he handed Alba into the boat. She took his cane and helped him sit down by the engine, and they were off.

By now Alba had a pretty good guess of where they were going, even if she didn't quite know what they were going to do yet, so she asked nothing, just sat and watched Derwin work the boat. Sitting by the engine with his back straight and his eyes fixed on the horizon, he seemed so at ease with himself and with his surroundings, so different from the irritable, withdrawn man she'd met six months ago. Her heart swelled with pride at his growth, yet at the same time, a little selfish voice piped up in her mind, wondering if one day he might decide that he no longer needed her to guide him through life. Then he caught her eyes and smiled at her, and it was Derwin's smile, sweet and a little self-conscious, and Alba chided herself for her unkind thought. He wasn't with her simply because he needed her, just as she wasn't with him because she owed him. He was with her because he wanted to. And so was she.

The ride along the canal was as quiet as the drive on the Tamiami Trail, with only the putt-putting of the boat to break up the silence. Once or twice they came across some alligators sunning themselves on the bank, but they were far away and didn't seem bothered by the boat at all. They saw more birds, snowy egrets and silver-gray herons perching on the mangrove that lined the canal, watching the boat go past with their beady black eyes. Eventually, the canal widened into a river just as the old man had said, and Derwin took the right turn, down a narrow creek. The water level went down, the mangrove thickened, sometimes blocking their way altogether, and a brackish smell came up from the mud below.

"It should be around here somewhere..." Derwin mumbled to himself, frowning at the mangrove.

"We're not lost, are we?" Alba asked. They hadn't gone that far from the hut and the dock, but amongst these mangroves, they could've taken a wrong turn without knowing it.

"Oh no," said Derwin, though he didn't sound very confident. "I think we're getting close."

Then the mangrove thinned, and the creek opened up in front of them, and Alba's breath caught in her throat.

They were looking at a pond, where the canal curved around an islet before rejoining the river, creating a little aquatic cul-de-sac. And, at the far end of the pond, where the mangrove formed a line separating the water from the sky, were birds, hundreds of them, their pink plumage shining bright against the dark green of the trees.

"Flamingos?" Alba whispered. Impossible. Flamingos had been hunted to extinction in Florida since the beginning of the century; nobody had seen them in the wild for years.

"No, sorry," Derwin said sheepishly. "I was hoping this would be the next best thing."

Alba looked again and realized that these birds were smaller and shorter, and their plumage was a softer pink, like cherry blossoms, not the bright coral pink of flamingos. But they were no less graceful as they waded through the shallows, dipping their strange-looking flat beaks into the water to feed, occasionally spreading their wings to show off the splashes of darker pink, almost red, on their shoulders and near their tails.

"Spoonbills!" she exclaimed, keeping her voice low so she wouldn't scare them away. "Roseate spoonbills!" These birds were more common in Florida; still, she had never seen so many of them in one place. "How did you know they're here?" she asked Derwin.

"I asked one of my dad's old friends from the university," he replied. "The biology department used to come here for their field trips, bird-watching."

They stayed at the pond for nearly an hour, hidden behind a thick mangrove bush, watching the spoonbills while the sun warmed their backs and a cool wind drifted across the pond, bringing with it a faint scent of the sea. Other birds landed on the pond from time to time, but they were overshadowed by the spoonbills' brilliant color and sheer number. When the sun cleared the top of the trees, the spoonbills, as if alerted by some unknown, magical cue, took flight. They wheeled overhead, looking for all the world like a shower of cherry blossom petals in reverse. It was exactly as Alba remembered the flamingos of Guanaroca Lake. After two circuits of the pond, they took off toward the sun and settled further down the river. It would be impossible to chase after them on open water, so Derwin turned the boat around and got ready to go back.

"Did you ask about this place specifically for me?" Alba asked, sitting close so he could hear her over the boat's engine.

"I told you I'd take you somewhere special, didn't I?" he said with a grin. "Now that the national park is opened, tourists are going to flock there, so I figure you'd want somewhere a bit more quiet." Then he turned anxious again. "You did like it, right?" he asked, peering at her. "I know they're not flamingos like in your hometown, but..."

"No, no," she said quickly, putting her hand over his. "I love it. Thank you." Then, with a mischievous smile, she asked, "The real question is, is this enough of a proper date for you?"

He smiled back. "I don't know. Maybe?"

The teasing in his voice was unmistakable. She leaned over and kissed him. She'd wanted to kiss him since she watched him steering the boat, something about his confidence and focus was intoxicating to her, and now she kissed him with none of her usual gentleness, but with urgency, taking his bottom lip into her mouth, tasting him deeply and thoroughly. Derwin seemed taken aback by her passion for a second, then his hands slid up her arms, then her shoulders and her neck, to cradle and caress her jaw. Her own hands clung to him, gripping at the back of his stubborn neck, running through his curls.

Somehow she found herself on her back, stretched out along the length of the boat, with Derwin on top of her, their mouths and tongues and limbs all tangled up. The motor had been turned off, and the boat was drifting along the current, buffeted by the light breeze. The bottom of the boat dug into her back, and as she lifted her hips a little to ease the pressure, she felt his hardness on her again. Her pulse seemed to have escaped her throat and was now throbbing low in her belly, where their bodies were pressed against each other, separated only by thin layers of fabric. Derwin's hand was trembling beside her leg, and she took it and pushed it up her skirt, guiding him to where her pulse was pounding the hardest. This was it. There was no more hesitation, no more shyness or fear. There was nothing around them but the sun and the wind and the water. Even the birds' calls had quieted. She'd never felt such freedom or such want.

"God, Alba..." whispered Derwin, but she silenced him with another kiss. This was no time for talking. She reached out for him as well, and touched him just as he was touching her, in matching movements and quickening breaths, faster, harder, there, there, right there, almost—

Derwin shuddered and wrenched away from her, so abruptly that the boat tipped to the side. He tried to sit up, but he leaned on his bad leg by mistake and lost his balance. Before Alba could reach out to help him, he toppled into the water with a splash.

"Derwin!" Alba screamed.

Down the river, some birds flew up, startled. There was a movement on the bank of the canal, and she prayed to La Cachita that it wasn't an alligator. Luckily the canal wasn't deep. Derwin was already pulling himself out by clinging to the side of the boat, water streaming down his face. Scrambling, Alba gave him her hand and hauled him into the boat.

If there was anything that could cool off amorous desires more quickly than a tumble into alligator-infested water, then Alba didn't know it. For a long while, Derwin slumped over in the boat, with his head between his knees.

"Are you OK?" Alba asked. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He was breathing hard, but his labored breaths were quite different from the way he'd been breathing just a moment ago, when they were lying together on the bottom of the boat. It took her a moment to realize he was laughing. And then she was laughing too, collapsing into his arms in helpless giggles, not caring that she was getting muddy water all over her dress. First the porch swing, then her blouse, and now this. They did seem to have a knack for getting into all sorts of scrapes whenever they tried to get intimate with each other.

They were still smiling by the time they returned to the dock. If the old man at the hut was surprised by their bedraggled state, then he made no remark on it. He simply took the rest of the payment, tucked it into his hat as before, and waved them on their way with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

So much for a proper date. As the car rolled down the Tamiami Trail back home, Alba realized that she didn't mind. She knew now that she wanted Derwin, and he wanted her, and they would take that next step together, when they were ready.

Preferably on dry land next time though.

Chapter 17

Taglist: @kitkat80, @hahahafucku

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #grunauer #grunauer overlord #overlord 2018 #grunauer x ofc #grunauer smut #joseph quinn smut

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poppy-in-the-woods · 7 months ago

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Playing God | Chapter Two: The Jungle

Plot: Sadie is a vampire hunter with a problem: the members of her favourite band are vampires. She spent the last five years since she found out training to take them out, one by one, beginning with the youngest, guitarist Tim Henson. But things rarely go as planned, and Sadie's life will be turned upside down after her first encounter with Tim.

Cross-posted to AO3

Pairing: Vampire!Tim Henson x Vampire hunter!OFC

Word count: 5540

Rating: Mature/Explicit.

General tags: vampire au, arranged marriage, smut, violence, blood, biting, implied homophobia, misoginy, lgbtq characters, slight gore.

Chapter tags: asshole behaviors (from various characters), sexual puns, talks of arranged marriage and demisexuality, a bit of fluff.

Author's note: As always, English is not my first language, this is not proofread, yada yada yada, you know the drill already. Hope you enjoy, and if any of you want me to be tagged into this, let me know.

@veronicaphoenix

In a city as big as Los Angeles, there were other vampires to kill, and for six weeks (roughly what it took them to find and take care of another target), Sadie managed to keep her family away from Tim and the others. She thought, perhaps foolishly, that the longer it took for them to go after him again, the more reasons she would find to destroy him. Until one night, she caught herself listening to the band's new album in an effort to find a reason.

She had missed the last two because of her hatred for Tim, but the truth was that the band had continued to improve. Much to her chagrin, she had to admit that the fact that he was now a vampire had been a positive, at least musically. His new skills had pushed him to test his limits as a guitarist, and that had resulted in even more complex music than before. It was time to retrieve her bag.

The next morning, she walked up to the mansion and rang the doorbell without further ado.

“Hello?” said an unfamiliar voice through the speaker as a security camera focused on her.

“Hi, this is Sadie. I think Tim has my purse.”

The gate opened, letting her inside the property. The garden was large and well-kept, no doubt the work of a professional landscaper. On one side of the slate path that led to the garage, a white sports car was parked, glistening as if it were a trophy. Sadie grimaced briefly in disgust, but kept moving forward. Before she could ring the doorbell, the door opened and a young man with platinum blond hair and metal-rimmed glasses stepped out.

“Hi, I'm Pol, the guys' assistant, will you come with me, please?”

She followed him into the house, where he led her into the living room and asked her to wait there for him to come back for her.

“Tim has the red light of his room on, which probably means he's playing, and he doesn't like to be disturbed while he's playing his music,” he informed her.

“It’s okay. I can wait, no problem.”

Pol left her alone. The living room had a huge plasma TV surrounded by shelves with books on one side and some LP's on the other. Under the TV was a record player that connected to a sophisticated speaker system spread throughout the space to ensure the best possible acoustics.

She was examining the vinyl titles when she heard someone enter the room. Turning around, expecting to see Pol, she found Scott instead.

“Well, I didn't expect to see you again. Have you changed your mind?” he said, amused.

“What?”

“About Tim.”

“I just came to get my purse back,” she said, shrugging. “The club told me there was nothing left in the booth, so I assumed he had it.”

“Oh. He's playing, I think. He'll be a while yet.”

“That's what I’ve been told,” she replied, shrugging again. “I was admiring your record collection.”

“Cool, huh?”

“Not bad,” she acknowledged.

“What's your favorite band?”

You guys.

“I don't have a favorite band, I have favorite songs.”

“Like what, for example?” Scott was interested.

“Master of Puppets, Live wire, Kickstart my Heart, Nothing Else Matters, Smoke on the water...”

“You're very old-fashioned,” he poked her.

“Oh, no, I like a lot of modern songs, but I don't want you to think badly of me because of my musical tastes.”

“Don't worry about that, I know you're not a one hundred percent metal head,” he reassured her, solemnly.

“What gives me away?” she asked.

“You seem too smart to have limited yourself to only one genre of music.”

“Thank you.”

“Why didn't you want to do it with Tim? I mean, I don't want to be nosy or anything, but he doesn't usually get turned down, you know?”

So that was the story he had told the others... well, she already suspected he hadn't told them the truth when Scott hadn't tried to kill her on sight.

“I didn't feel comfortable,” she replied, with a third shrug.

“Because it was a public place?” She nodded, “You sure are very old-fashioned.”

Pol returned, followed by what looked like a lingerie model. He escorted her to the door and returned to the living room.

“Playing, huh?” Sadie commented acidly, “Is that what it's called now?”

Pol shrugged, looking like he didn't know what to say.

“At least he wasn't playing with himself,” Scott joked.

“Tim will see you now,” said Pol, pretending not to hear Scott.

“Have fun,” the guitarist wished her when they had almost rounded the corner. Sadie gave him the finger.

She followed Pol down the stairs and across the hall to the door marked with Tim's initials. She understood what he meant by "having the red light on" when she saw that next to the door was a red-light bulb, although it was currently off. The door was ajar, and before opening it all the way, Pol knocked twice.

“Come in!” Tim's voice sounded from inside.

Pol smiled encouragingly at her and pushed the door open. Sadie stepped into the room, and the door closed behind her, leaving her alone with the vampire. Tim was sitting on a low couch by the window, playing in shorts, headphones on. As she took a couple of tentative steps toward him, Sadie couldn't help but notice the many tattoos that covered the skin on his arms, neck and chest almost completely.

“Your friend was very pretty,” she commented, cautiously moving a little closer.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, still playing.

“No, it was just a comment.”

“Right. I don't know if you're very brave or very stupid to come here,” he said. His fingers continued to move nimbly over the strings, as if it cost him no more effort than breathing.

“Probably a little of both,” she replied. She had asked herself that same question dozens of times as she drove up to the mansion.

“I suppose you've come to get your things.” Sadie nodded. Tim finally put the guitar aside, took off his headphones and walked over to a closet, from which he pulled out her purse. “Is your name really Sadie Thompson?” he asked, turning around.

“No. I mean, my name is Sadie, but that's not my last name.”

“Do you still want to kill me?” He asked as he held out the purse.

“Yesterday I was catching up on your music,” she said, evasively, taking it and slung it over her shoulder. “Somehow, I'd hoped you'd stalled, but you haven't. Killing you would be like... like going to the Louvre and burning the Mona Lisa, but...”

“But...?” he encouraged her.

“By expressing my desire to destroy you, I have marked you as a target in the eyes of my family, and I don't know how much longer I can keep them distracted with other prey before they pressure me to try to kill you again.”

“I see.”

“No, you don't. You don’t get it,” she replied, angry with herself. “My life... you couldn't possibly understand.”

“Try me. I'm smarter than I look.”

Slowly and deliberately, Sadie lay down on the soft carpet. She began to speak only when she noticed Tim sitting on the floor as well, not too far away from her, but far enough not to be threatening.

“My siblings and I were brought into this world for two clear purposes: to hunt vampires, and to produce and train more hunters,” she told him. “So, half a year from now, if nothing happens to prevent it, like my death or his, I will be married to Arthur, my fiancé, and I will have to try to get pregnant as soon as possible.”

“You have a fiancé?” He repeated, “That’s nuts.”

“It's an arranged marriage with another hunting family,” she explained. “Men can delay their wedding date until they're thirty-five if they want to, because you're supposed to be fertile for longer.”

“Do you know him well, your future husband?”

“We've met a couple of times” she thought of Arthur: born and raised in the southern states, medium height, with some interesting ideas about weapons, and ten years older than she was. “He's not a bad hunter, but I don't have any feelings for him.”

“And is there anyone you do have feelings for?” Tim asked.

Sadie looked at him, thinking back to the night she had tried to kill him. The rule had always been that they had to get close to their target by any means at their disposal. In her case, trying to seduce the vampire in question to stake them wasn't an unusual method, but she usually felt nothing while doing it, if anything, disgust and the excitement inherent to the hunt.

With Tim that hadn’t been the case. The adrenaline was there, of course, but when she kissed him, the disgust didn't show up; instead, another emotion came, one she wouldn't have expected to experience with a vampire in a million years: desire, pure and genuine, albeit brief. She preferred not to think too much about it, as she was sure he could smell if any significant changes occurred in her body.

“None of what you're supposed to feel when you're in love” she said at last.

“You're lying,” he said. “Honestly, I don't care if you're lying to me, but you're lying to yourself, and that's very messed up.”

“Does your little friend know what you are?” she asked, diverting the conversation.

“Of course not, I erase her memory every time.”

“So she doesn't remember anything?” she wanted to know.

“Only the pleasant parts... Don't change the subject! We were talking about you, not me.”

“The truth is that I'm trapped in this life, whether I want to be or not,” she sighed, looking away again, “and I've put you in a no-win situation because I was a stupid teenager who couldn't get over her favorite musician turning into a vampire.”

“Is that why you wanted me to kill you, so you wouldn't have to marry that guy?”

“It wouldn't really solve anything, but at least you wouldn't have given me the chance to start questioning things,” she said, blinking very fast to try to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

If I start crying in front of a vampire, I'll shoot myself, she thought.

“But that's good, isn't it?” he said, seemingly oblivious to her conflict.

“My world is falling apart, Tim,” she said, cursing herself as her voice broke at the end of that sentence. She dared to look at him again, “All because a vampire I couldn't kill, instead of doing the sensible thing and bleeding me dry on the spot, spared my life. Apparently, not all of you are evil killers.”

“You're twenty-five and you didn't know that?” he scoffed.

“I've hunted and helped hunt real monsters,” she said, frowning at the seriousness of the matter. “A vampire in Iowa fed exclusively on children under the age of nine. He kept them locked in his basement for weeks, until he finally bled them dry. We found the skeletons buried in the garden behind the house, at least half a dozen of them, and he had only been living there for two years.”

“One Ohio vampire lured runaway teenagers with the promise of hot food and a bed to sleep in, and then killed them when they were comfortable and safe. Another vampire, also in Ohio, targeted prostitutes and homeless people; those who no one was going to miss, and for whom the justice system wasn't going to give a shit about should anyone report them missing.”

“In New Orleans, there is a group of vampires so numerous and active that it takes three families of hunters to keep them in check. They are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people a year, especially in the poorer neighborhoods. Most vampires I have encountered are not content to take just a little bit of blood and erase their victim's memory, they want it all and make sure they are savoring every last ounce of fear, pain and sorrow in the blood they take.”

“I see you do a lot of research before you kill them,” he commented.

“Planning is key in these cases, unless you want to go from being the hunter to the prey,” she said, sitting up. “Under normal circumstances, I would have died the first time we met, and now you wouldn't even remember me.”

Don't think it's so easy to forget you, little hunter, thought Tim.

“Tell me how I can help you,” he said instead.

“I don't think you can, but thanks for listening. Anyway, it's time for me to go,” she added, getting up; he got up too. “You know? You're very sweet... for a vampire.”

“Please don't go,” he begged, moving at vampiric speed to cut her off. “Not yet.”

“Do you want to be my knight with shining fangs?” She joked, “It's going to backfire.”

“I want to help you, that's all,” he replied with a shrug.

“There's no way out of this one, but I appreciate you wanting to try.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Do you want to see me again?” He nodded, “Is that what it takes to flirt with you?” she asked, amused, “Trying to kill you?”

“Ha, ha,” he replied, mockingly. “I'm just saying that maybe we could be friends, learn from each other, and then... I don't know, you could convince your family to give me a truce.”

“Oh, you want me to take my family off your back,” she said. “Fair enough, since it's my fault, but I don't know if I can convince them that you're a good vampire.”

“Can you at least try?”

“Sure,” she agreed, giving him a half-smile. “Give me your number, I'll call you.”

“Okay.”

He gave her his number and after seeing how she saved it in her phone (the real one, not the one she had carried in her purse that night), saving it on SF (there was probably a code in there, but he thought it was better not to ask), he stepped aside to let her pass.

“I'll walk you to the door,” he said.

“I know the way, thank you,” she replied.

“Please.”

Sadie rolled her eyes, but nodded. What Tim actually did was open the door for her and follow her to the entrance, careful not to walk too close in case he invaded her personal space. He leaned against the door frame.

“Well, see you another day, I guess.”

“See you later.”

He stood there, watching her leave, until the gate to the premises closed behind her.

“You like that girl, huh?” said Scott behind him.

“What?” He asked, turning around. “I was just making sure she didn't leave anything behind this time.”

“Right, and that's why you were looking at her ass?” Scott asked.

“I wasn't... I wasn't looking at her ass!” he exclaimed defensively.

“Liar. When are you going to fuck her?”

“I haven't slept with Sadie, and I don't plan to for the foreseeable future, okay?” he said, curtly.

“Okay, you don't have to be like that,” Scott replied, holding up his hands as a sign of non-aggression.

Tim closed the front door.

“I'm going to my room,” he announced.

Sometimes living in that house was a bit like the jungle.

“Don't forget we have rehearsal later!” Scott shouted at him as he was already on the stairs.

It was several days before Sadie called him. He was with his favorite blood bag, Anya, a Slavic-looking ballerina with hair dyed pink. She was riding him, still in her underwear, rubbing frantically against him, when his phone started ringing.

“Don't take it,” she begged.

However, seeing that he didn't have the number saved, he shoved her off his lap and picked up the phone, ignoring her protests. If the spam filter was working, that call could only be from one person.

“Hello?”

“Tim? This is Sadie. Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.

“No, I'm not doing anything I can't put off.”

“Who's calling you?” Anya wanted to know, getting up from the floor.

“Shut up or you'll have to wait outside,” Tim said in an angry whisper. “Sorry, Sadie, you were saying?”

“I thought we could meet, if you're not busy.”

“Who is this Sadie?” Anya asked. “Are you banging another chick?”

“Wait a minute,” he said, covering the phone. Trying to contain his frustration, he turned to Anya. “What did I just tell you? Wait outside.”

“But...”

“Either you go out on your own or I'll drag you out, take your pick.” Anya snorted, but did as he said. “Excuse me, I can talk now,” he said into the phone.

“If you're with someone, I can call you later,” Sadie said.

“No, don't worry, I'm available,” he assured her.

“Is it okay if we meet for lunch? I know you don't eat, but I think it's a good time?”

“Yes, yes, that's fine," he hastened to say. “Where?”

“I'll text you the address, okay? I have to hang up.”

“See you later.”

He hung up and went to open the door for Anya. The girl stomped in and pushed him out of the way.

“You bastard!” She spat, starting to get dressed “It's cold in the hallway!”

“I told you to shut up and you didn't, it's your fault, not mine,” he replied, shrugging.

He lay down on the bed, ankles crossed, hands clasped under his head.

“Are you fucking that Sadie girl?” Anya asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No.”

“Liar!” she accused him.

“I'm not lying. I sleep with other women, that's true, but not with Sadie.”

“You're a bastard!” She repeated. “I thought we had something special.”

“You are not my girlfriend, I never promised you exclusivity,” he said. “Although I can make you my only blood bag, if you want to die very slowly,” he said, baring his fangs as he spoke.

Unlike the others, Anya did know what he was; they had met at a party hosted by a friend's sire, for vampires and humans in the know.

“Are you unable to separate sex from eating?”

“I can separate them, but it's more fun if I don't,” he said. “And the blood tastes better. I'm so sorry, Anya,” he said, sitting up, “We do have fun together, and you're my favorite, but that's it and that's all you're ever going to be.”

“I don't want to do this anymore, Tim, can you... can you erase it for me?”

“Sure.”

After dressing, he escorted her to the street, where he proceeded to erase all traces of himself and his siblings from her memory. He left her alone and watched through the lattice as she came out of her trance.

“What was I doing here?” She wondered aloud. “Shit, I got lost again. I'd better call a car...”

He didn't feel sorry for her; in a week or two she would have a new vampire to offer her veins to and he would have a new girl to feed on. Though perhaps she was right and he should start to settle for just feeding. Sighing, he walked back into the house.

“Did something happen with Anya?” asked Clay, who was reading a book in the living room.

“I had to erase her memory.”

“Oh, well, don't worry, it happens to all of us once in a while,” Clay replied with a dismissive gesture.

“I know. Listen, I have a lunch date, so maybe I'll be late for rehearsal,” he warned him.

“To have lunch with her or to have her as your lunch?” Clay wanted to know, closing the book and putting it aside.

“To have lunch with her.”

“Is Sadie really so important that you're going to be late?”

He didn't bother to deny it.

“Look, I don't know if I'm going to be late, I'm just saying that, if it goes on too long, it might happen,” he replied, somewhat defensively. “It's not like you guys can't manage without me either, is it?”

“What are you planning, huh? Don't deny it, I know you're up to something,” said Clay, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Come on, tell me, you know you can trust me.”

He bit his lip, thoughtfully. He didn't want to tell him, but, after all, if Sadie's family was after him, the others were also a potential target, and at the same time they could benefit from the truce, if he could get them to grant him one.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to get angry, and not to tell the others, okay?” he said at last.

“I swear on my mother, who is also your mother,” Clay replied, feigning solemnity. Spill it.

“Sadie's a slayer,” he said, slumping down on the couch next to his friend.

“What?”

“Let me finish, please. That night she went to the club to kill me, but when she had me... she changed her mind,” he said. “She spared my life, so I did the same with her.”

“You should have eaten her,” Clay said.

“Yeah, but I didn't; I don't like killing, you know that.”

“Neither do I, but sometimes you have to make exceptions,” Clay said.

“I disagree,” he countered. “Anyway, when she came here the other day, she told me that maybe she could get her family to leave us alone for good, so I'm going to meet with her and figure out a strategy to make that happen,” he explained. “You're angry, aren't you? You promised me you wouldn't,” he reminded Clay.

“This is serious, Tim! The hunters may seem like mere humans to you, but if enough of them go after you at once...”

“I know, and that's why we're going to figure out a way to not get killed.”

“Why would someone like her even want to save you?” Clay wondered.

“She says she appreciates my talent. Our talent,” he corrected himself. “That's why she didn't kill me when she had the chance.”

“Yeah... You know, I think you should fuck her. Today, after lunch.”

Tim almost choked on his own saliva, something that hadn't happened to him since he'd become a vampire.

“What?”

“Well, humans love sex with us, don't they? It would give her one more reason not to want to kill you,” Clay argued.

“She's not like the rest of them, I'm sure she finds me repulsive. Please don't tell the others,” he begged, “at least until I have something positive to tell them.”

“All right,” Clay agreed. “But if you don't get them to give us a truce, we'll have to move,” he warned. “And if they follow us, there'll be bloodshed, and you wouldn't like that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, kiddo,” Clay assured him, sighing. “This is the jungle, and every once in a while, a hunter becomes prey.”

Sadie waited nervously at the restaurant where she was meeting Tim. Fast food wasn't her favorite, but the place was noisy and crowded enough that no one paid any special attention to them, and it was far enough away from her house that she wouldn't run into his family by accident. It wasn't the location that made her uneasy, but the fact that he was late.

He finally walked in the door, dressed in a black hoodie, which covered most of his tattoos, and jeans. For once, he had left his hair somewhat more natural, instead of styling it in his usual way, which made him look like an anime character. He greeted her as if they were old friends and approached her table.

“Sorry, I couldn't find parking and had to wait for a man to come out with his pickup truck” he said as he sat down.

“That's all right.”

“Well?” he urged her.

“I've been dropping hints: ‘what if a vampire didn't kill and if in that case we wouldn't be committing murder...’, that sort of thing,” she said between bites.

“And how did it go?”

“My little sister is convinced that such a vampire cannot exist, but she is open to offering amnesty to any vampire who refrains from harming humans,” she informed him.

“That's a start.

“Yeah. Mom, Jack and Luke, on the other hand, were not so open. They said that you are monsters who only parasite humanity and that our duty is to exterminate you all,” she said, chagrined. “Jack added that even if vampires didn't kill their victims, you always felt the urge to do so, and sooner or later, you would succumb to it. My dad and Tony said nothing, although dad was all the time looking at me like I was crazy.”

“Well, I didn't expect it to go right the first time," he replied, with a forced smile.

“I'm sorry, it's going to take longer than I thought,” she admitted.

“But are we safe?”

“There are more urgent targets in this city, and you're too well known for us to just kill you anyway. A hit like that, all four of you at once... we'd need reinforcements and plan very, very well.”

“That's very reassuring,” he replied, sarcastically, with a hint of hysteria in his voice.

Sadie frowned and looked away, annoyed. She had other, more pressing problems right now, at least on a personal level.

“What's the matter?”

“Huh?”

“Something's wrong with you and it's not this,” said Tim. “Come on, tell me about it.”

“Do you remember my fiancé, Arthur?” she asked. He nodded, “He's coming here next Monday, to start preparing for the wedding. His parents are staying in a hotel for a few days and in less than two weeks there's going to be a party, sort of a pre-wedding, if you will.”

“Pre-wedding?”

“It's a tradition. It strengthens the engagement, so if I get pregnant and he dies before we get married, his family still recognizes me as part of them, and the baby,” she explained.

“But you're not pregnant, are you?”

“I'm not, and I don't want to be, really. I don't want to be a mother.”

She had never said those words out loud, at least not where anyone could hear them, but it felt surprisingly good to have someone hear them for a change.

“Well, don't be.

“It's not that easy, Tim. And with my record...”

“What does that mean ‘with my record’? I thought you were a good hunter.”

“I am,” she said, showing him her own tattoo: eight black lines on the inside of your forearm, grouped five by five, and four red lines, “one of the best, but they're very conservative. Hunters, I mean. Certain things are tolerated only as long as they don't interfere with the mission.”

“Like what things?” he asked.

“I... God, this is so embarrassing... I don't... I have never...”

“You've never what? “he encouraged her. Sadie bit her lip, undecided whether to tell him or not. “Come on, spill it already, it can't be that terrible.”

“I've never been with a guy, okay?” she sputtered.

“Are you a virgin?”

“It depends on what you mean by that” she replied, uncomfortable. “We were always moving from here to there and it's easier for me to connect intimately with other women.”

“You're a lesbian and they're going to force you to marry a guy?” he was alarmed.

“I'm not a lesbian, although it would be an even bigger problem if I were,” she agreed. “It's not that, I just don't want my first time with a man to be with Arthur, I'm not attracted to him at all.”

“And is there anyone you are attracted to? Maybe I could...”

“You?” She interrupted him, “My own mother would kill me if I slept with you.”

“I was going to say that maybe I could introduce you to someone,” he said. “I have human friends, okay?”

“Oh. I'm sorry,” she apologized, blushing. “I appreciate the offer, but I just don't work that way. I can't just sleep with someone, there has to be a certain... connection first, I don't know if I'm explaining myself.”

“You explain yourself well.”

“Most of the men I've met so far are very shallow, they don't want to get to know me, they want access to my body and discard me as soon as they get what they want,” she said, “and I don't want that. I am physically incapable of feeling sexual attraction for someone I don't know.”

“But you desired me. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I could tell.”

There was no point in denying it, not when he knew, and she didn't want to lie to herself either. It had surprised even her to realize that she had indeed, for the briefest of moments, lusted after Tim.

“Parasocial relationships are tricky terrain,” she admitted, grimacing. “I was your fan: I watched your videos, listened to your music... I felt like I knew you,” she explained, “that your songs spoke to me about your innermost thoughts, even if it wasn't in words. Seeing you in person was like medicine, in that sense. It totally cured me of your attraction.”

“Because I'm a vampire?”

“Because I realized that I don't really know you at all,” she corrected him. “I want to know you, Tim, I really do, and I'd love to be friends, despite our differences, but right now you're still a stranger.”

“I want to be friends, too,” he said hopefully. “Maybe with Arthur something similar will happen to you. I mean, eventually…?”

“No. I've known him longer than you, and I know I'll never find him attractive.”

“Why not?”

“Arthur is not a bad hunter, but his ideas about the world and our role in it are even more rigid than my family's,” she said. “If I marry him, according to tradition, I will have to go live with his family in the South, and I will be forced to stay at home, give birth and train new hunters until I am no longer fertile. Then I will be considered too old to be in the field, so I will be relegated to teaching and making weapons. Imagine if everything you've worked for all your life was suddenly taken away from you, how would you feel?”

“Very bad, obviously.”

“I don't do this to kill vampires, Tim, I do it to save people,” she said. “If I stop being a working hunter, I want it to be my choice.”

“I understand that. And I still want to help you with all that, I really do.”

“You're very sweet,” she said, flashing a sad smile.

“You already told me.”

“Does it bother you that I do it?” she wanted to know. “Do you have a reputation to maintain?”

“No, and no, not at all,” he acknowledged. “Except perhaps for having easy fangs.”

“Is that what they call it?” she asked, amused.

“I like to eat, and I like to fuck while I eat, and unlike you, I'm into casual sex. I'm not going to apologize for being the way I am.”

“I'm not judging you,” Sadie assured him in a soft voice. “Not because of that, at least.”

“I know you're not going to believe me, but there are plenty of humans out there who willingly feed us,” he told her. “Some have even made it their profession.

“Blood whores, yes. I know, although I have never met any.”

“Is that what you call them? That’s tough.”

“What do you call them?” she was interested.

“Fleurs-de-lis.”

“A very nice euphemism.”

“It's safer than being a prostitute,” he insisted. “They don't have to have sex if they don't want to, we pay them well, and no one is forced to do it. They have health insurance, days off, and even a union.”

“Not all vampires are like you, Tim,” she pointed out, frowning.

“They have no choice but to be if they want to use their services,” he explained to her. “Fleurs-de-lis run their own business, with their own rules, and if a vampire breaks one of them, they will be banned for life.” Sadie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don't have to believe me if you don't want, but maybe you should talk to a few of them first before judging.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, introduce me to some of those fleurs-de-lis,” she said, as if savoring the word.

“This weekend there will be a party at one of their locations. I can bring a plus-one, so you could come with me, if you want,” he informed her, checking his calendar app. “Do you think you can sneak out?”

“Won't it bother you that I'm human and I’m not... well, one of them?”

“No, don’t worry. I'll send you the details later, when I know the exact place and time.”

“Very well then, it’s a date. Now I have to go,” she said, getting up and picking up her tray. “And, Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“I prefer sweet fangs to easy fangs. It suits you more.”

If his heart was still beating, it would have done a pirouette.

#polyphia #polyphia fanfiction #tim henson #tim henson fanfiction #tim henson fic #polyphia fic #tim henson x ofc #vampire!tim henson x vampire hunter!ofc #vampire au #vampire!tim henson x ofc #playing god the fanfic #poppy writes

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avalonmoonshinesstuff · 2 years ago

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I just realised Something about a portion of fandom I don't really engage with all that much. Because I don't want to, btw.

In all other shows, movies, books, etc, every single bad person is at least somewhat 'ugly' according to the narrative. The 'problematic' characters rarely get acknowledged because there are so many good looking characters who are good themselves (I remember Annabelle from the first book of Percy Jackson, I think, and there were more ofc).

However, Rowling's main idea about appearances was that it was an illusion. Every single good looking character is either reprehensible or ends up dying (Cedric) in the same book they were introduced*. The story wants to be relatable to how every teen feels, and no matter what, we all have insecurities.

However, they're just teens, and on top of that, at least one or more of our main teens have done something terrible or badwrong (Hermione with skeeter and Marietta). So, they aren't exceptionally beautiful and neither are they exceptionally good. Even the side characters who are popular come across as jerks to some of their family members, making their sibling cry.

This creates a problem for the people who don't have a sense of self yet, or are so scarred they can only look at life through black & white lenses.

The Halo effect playing greatly onto the above, we're presented with another set of teens, two of whom are described as extremely sought after by the opposite sex, one of whom is popular, and the final one who has endeared himself by showing ugly Snivellus his place (via map and the Verbal Sparring). They all, by the end of this introduction, understand that Snivellus is badwrong and doesn't deserve anything good.

'It's clear he's the villain, and has been since forever, see, these people agree with me and they're the Protagonist's parents.' Whether this is believed because of the Halo effect or taking Harry's perspective to mean a God pov, I can't tell. The point being, they are even more convinced.

They want an escape from how difficult it is to sort out their feeling about these people the author keeps throwing at their face so why not attach to the characters who are dead or strongly attached to the protagonist (so they can never be badwrong in later books). A safety blanket of sorts, if you will. And in doing so, they completely ignore the nuances of the scenes presented in the last book. Because they are attached, they'd rather call badwrong Snivellus' love impure than explore what the montage of all his memories implied. That beauty is skin deep.

The thing about people who like such black and white scenarios and people is: they will always fall prey to the Halo Effect. And it's extremely painful to be disillusioned about your favourites. So they may never get disillusioned.

All this to say, sometimes I wonder why that part of the fandom is like 'that'. And it's just that this is the safety net in this series, or this is just how vanilla people outside of fandom coming in can take.

And that's fine (coz I'm crazy for the marauders era as well, just with a slightly wider taste pallet).

TL Dr: The antis are attracted to wholesome ships and since Rowling made it so difficult to find such ships until much later where you are emotionally connected with each character, the antis attached to a bunch of (mostly) dead people who, by association to the Hero of the story, being pretty, popular, and clear on their behaviour with the badwrong confusing character, are all good. They were desperately looking for the safety net in the books and found some. Also, since antis are the way they are, maybe they believe the fictional character being dead means people would not criticise their wholesome ship? Idk.

A/N:

*The only properly handsome man - Bill - barely gets mentioned, marries a beautiful woman, and imo the only reason he doesn't die is because he didn't revel in his handsomeness or popularity (him liking Snape in school is so cute + that disqualifies him from being popular with the antis since he likes the badwrong character). Also, he was literally scarred on his once handsome face to show that his wife actually loved him and didn't just choose him to have beautiful babies. Her being a veela and owning her Frenchness were already flaws (in the narrative's opinion) so all she needed was a scarred husband. Now, they both don't have to die 🤣.

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mangodestroyer · 1 month ago

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Right? It really does not help if you already have trauma/mental health issues. I know it isn't about me, but I've been finding this whole thing triggering. I've dealt with various forms of abuse throughout my life. I use art to help me cope. I KNOW I have unhealthy obsessions with media... because I also happen to be on the spectrum and that, along with the mental health issues, makes it VERY difficult to form deep/healthy connections with others. Currently, as an adult, it feels like the best I can do sometimes is just have people tolerate me. I have to do... quite a lot in order to be "liked" and "welcomed" somewhere. Lucky me, I just HAPPEN to be into some niche things/have rare skills. Otherwise, I'd have no social life irl/finding a career would feel a lot more hopeless. And these two things are already such a challenge to thrive with (I'm not yet thriving)!

And ofc, this isn't the first time an author I liked turned out to be shit. HP used to be my safe space when I was a kid. As someone who SERIOUSLY struggled with reading... this series helped me learn to read. Also... it was the whole idea of being an outcast in normal society/straight up being mistreated, and then escaping to a different world where you ACTUALLY belong that I found comforting. Now it feels like that didn't happen... or I just sometimes have to look back on it and pretend that series was written by someone else. Because honestly, wtf???

And no, it's not like I can't find some other things to like. Currently, I am looking into some other fandoms to indulge. I'm still going to be a part of GO, and I know Pratchett and so many other people also worked on GO... and AziCrow DOES still bring me comfort. But sometimes, being here can also be mentally draining. Ever since the whole thing came to light. I've always loved the fandom! But it's just not the same anymore. Because yeah, understandably, a lot of people in this fandom share similar problems with me. Neurodivergent and/or have trauma. That's the demographic GO appeals to. And understandably, this has changed the fandom as well.

What makes it worse is that... the two authors I mentioned in this post, who later turned out to be shit, haven't always led glamorous lives either (or at least, that's how it seems)? G*iman's works have touched on themes that are pretty relatable if you've suffered abuse. JKR had a whole "rags to riches" thing going on! And also wrote a story that is relatable to more disadvantaged people. Really... it just made sense that some people would start looking up to them. As you get older, you start to realize that there's quite a stigma around having trauma. Especially if it leads to "unmanaged" mental health issues. You also become more painfully aware that certain qualities that make you a minority, such as autism, can put you at such a disadvantage in life. And some of us just have so many of these things compounded onto us! It can lead to so many painful experiences, and you learn so many different strategies to protect yourself and live a more comfortable life (and these strategies can sometimes be hella limiting). I mean... some of us straight up don't have as many options as the average person. Ig it just would have been nice to see other people who had a hard time of it succeed... and not turn out to be shitty people?

Ig that's just one downside to finding comfort from others who've suffered. Some people repeat toxic patterns. I've had it happen irl too, with people I used to be close to. People with trauma tend to attract each other. A lot of people with trauma don't reflect on it as they should and will go out of their way to repeat the hurtful things that happened to them. I've been further damaged by people like that personally. It's a maddening experience! Especially when it KEEPS HAPPENING. You just have to wonder if there's something wrong with you. Like, is my trauma just making me an unpleasant person to be around... and that's why I keep attracting unpleasant individuals? And now authors I've liked are pulling this? Do I just deserve this?

And at the end of the day, I just wanted to enjoy art!

God the more I think about this the more stupid I feel, like, OF COURSE the older man who spent so much of his time on tumblr talking to his considerably-younger-than-him audience is a predator. OF COURSE he wasn’t just trying to have some innocent chitchat about his projects with the people who looked up to him and had every reason to believe that this friendly and approachable persona of his was genuine. He had an ulterior motive. They ALWAYS have an ulterior motive.

Fuck, man.

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virghogh · 3 years ago

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NCT Dream Birth Charts x Hexaco Results Analysis pt. 3

recently NCT Dream were on a new reality show called Mental Training Camp where they are doing a variety of activities and all of their behavior and interactions are being analyzed by professional psychologists

ofc my virgo sun mercury ass was thrilled and I had their birth charts pulled up the whole time to cross reference.

I wanted to share some of my personal thoughts on how the 2 might connect!

Thank you for all the support on the previous parts <3

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

**key: in the hexaco charts the blue represents the Dreamies, the orange is an average result of 300 college students who took the same test**

Haechan - “Popular and Ambitious”

✨gemini sun // leo moon // cancer mercury // gemini venus // gemini mars✨

they started Haechans analyses by labeling him as popular and ambitious, and even without looking at the hexaco or his birth chart these 2 traits are very easy to see in him. Haechans birth chart and hexaco are really interesting and almost refreshing to me because everything is so straightforward. I honestly think Haechan is a very what you see is what you get kind of person. I think the psychologists on the show were feeling some of that interest and refreshing feeling too because they described him as being very different from the rest of the group (and the college students), and kind of special. A somewhat rare personality.

the first thing they talked about was his insane level of extroversion. I have to say when I first saw that I choked on air a little. Not only is it just ridiculously high, but it’s also so obvious given his birth chart too. looking at the hexaco chart, the focus on extroversion and then how the other areas are either just around the average or below is very interesting to me. we saw something similar in a few of the previous dreamies too. Some of them had highly above average scores for one area and to me that says a lot about the dominant parts of their personality.

Looking at haechans birth chart, we all know he’s practically on par with Seventeens Hoshi for being an iconic gemini. Having such a social, extroverted and excitable sign in 3 different planets will certainly make someone extroverted, but charts have to be looked at as a whole as well and he’s also fortunate to have a leo moon because it doesn’t add any kind of introversion. He is a pure excitable, affectionate and social extrovert. His extroversion can be seen in the ways he’s very interested in whats happening “out there”. Gemini’s are very curious and restless and like to explore the world and environment around them, and have a lot to gain from connecting with people.

Right after they mentioned this though, they quickly added that it’s actually somewhat rare for highly extroverted people to be highly conscientious too. If you look at his hexaco his next highest scores are conscientiousness and openness. Even though gemini is a mutable sign and likes to try new things and stay entertained, they are some of the most determined people I’ve ever met. You do not want to get in between a Gemini and their work. Gemini is a very mental sign as well, they’re good with tasks and enjoy getting them done and focusing on their work. As well as his firey Leo moon. Leo is a sign that I often think can change quite a lot depending on the chart and houses but his with the gemini, is creating a highly focused, ambitious and driven person.

they described him as the “relief pitcher�� for the team when in crisis. He’s the one that comes into the game for a round or 2 when things aren’t going well to secure their win, then steps back out. If this isn’t the most accurate description for haechan and gemini/leo?! Leo and Gemini are both highly intelligent signs, I feel like people don’t talk about that a lot with leo but it’s true! Also his combination of leo with gemini is interesting because sometimes people have drive, ambition and passion, but there are other placement that kind of complicate how it gets expressed. And they can’t always fulfill all of their desires and passions. But having all gemini and that one leo is really in his favor, he’s very “this is what I want, so I’m going to get it”. It’s easy for him. He can easily bring his ambitions to fruition which is why he’s the “relief pitcher”. It’s gemini magic and leo talent honestly.

this was the extent of what they said for Haechan but I have more I’d like to add!

his openness is on par with his conscientiousness and that is also no surprise because even though gemini gets a rep. for being “detached” it’s actually a fairly open sign too. What gemini is open about depends greatly on the other placements, and in haechans case with his only other influences being leo and cancer, he can easily be open about those traits and desires. The attention, validation, love and affection. They are all very big parts of him, and he also has no problem speaking his mind. But he also isn’t as obsessive as other leo and cancer combinations because of his overwhelming gemini. It’s very “in this second I want affection” and then the next second he’s over it. With haechan I’ve always found it interesting how he is so openly affectionate but it never seems like an unhealthy attachment thing? he isn’t reliant on it, and can easily go from wanting it, to not. It’s very uncomplicated. This is also part of the Gemini rep. they are very flighty and their minds change by the second, but are also very self-reliant and independent. This is also why his emotionality is low even though his openness is high. Again, I don’t think he’s an emotionally driven person, he’s just open with his desires.

tldr; talented, confident, skilled, self-sufficient and independent. He is driven by exploring the world and people around him, he enjoys making connections. Very open about his thoughts and needs, but emotionally uncomplicated. His drive and ambition is bottomless, never-ending. What he wants, he gets.

Jaemin - “Optimistic My Way”

✨leo sun // capricorn moon // leo mercury // virgo venus // leo mars✨

I would like to start by saying that Jaemin is the sole reason that it took me so long to get this post out. This boy has always, and probably always will, confuse the hell out of me. And I’m sure he likes it that way. Actually, I’m confident he likes it that way because he admitted to the psychologists that on the test they took he answered number 3 for every question, so he wouldn’t have to reveal too much about himself. This is why they labeled him as “my way”, very “do what I want” kind of person. They said he really made them use a lot of brain power, and I relate lol. Even outside of this post every time I watch nct dream I’m always trying to understand Jaemin. So here goes my best shot at understanding this man.

they mentioned jaemin is difficult and complicated, he’s hard to read, and he’s someone that cannot be perfectly described with one personality test. I agree, which is why I hope one day we can get those house placements please!

The first thing that caught my attention based off his chart is how small his blue hexagon is. I actually had to double check that the blue was him and not the average😅 because of how he answered the test I don’t know how accurate the hexaco is? they didn’t really comment on that but they did continue to reference it.

the main thing they talked about with Jaemin was about how he is very aware of what he does and doesn’t like, he knows who he gets along with and who he doesn’t, he has no problems showing when he doesn’t like something, and he is very uninterested and borderline apathetic when it comes to things and people he is simply not interested in.

I think where I get really tripped up with Jaemin is because he has 3 leo placements, yet I feel like he doesn’t act much like a typical leo in my opinion? At least not to the cameras. I honestly think Jaemin might be someone who is very different off camera and at home. When I see jaemin I see flashes of it, but I get a lot of his earth influence.

I want to start with his capricorn moon because I feel like it’s something i see the most in him. For starters, it is literally why he is so private. Even before this show, it was a well known thing amongst NCTzens that Jaemin is a very private person. He also comes off as very reserved, in control and calm. Jaemin answering every question with a 3, so that it neither over or under represents him, but puts him in the questionable middle, is very capricorn moon. Not wanting to be understood. Not wanting to appear as having any exact problems. They’re practical, controlled, level-headed... right? They’re not the ones with messy emotions, couldn’t be them.... That’s the whole capricorn struggle. The moon is put in a very tough spot with Capricorn. Scorpio moons are in fall and Capricorns are in detriment. But it works very differently. Scorpios have wickedly intense emotions that they are kind of scared of, so they hide them, but they want to be understood and feel safe enough to express them. Capricorn moons straight up deny their feelings.

On the bright side though, I feel like his Capricorn moon is also responsible for the other part of his personality which is: how weird he is. Capricorn moons are also known for being ridiculously funny and weird. Very weird. I think this is also where his Leo comes in and kind of teams up with his moon. Leo’s are natural performers and sometimes when I watch Jaemin I find myself being like “he is really putting on a show right now” but not in a bad way, I’m always highly entertained lol. He is a natural performer.

In haechan’s section I mentioned how, to me, leo is one of the signs that can change so drastically depending on the other planets and houses. I think jaemin is a really good example of this, because even without his hexaco chart we all know Jaemin is a huge introvert. He is actually a self-proclaimed introvert. He is open is the way he shows it, and he even said in a show that talking with people is hard because he loses so much energy. I think his Capricorn and Virgo play a big role in this and it’s why I’m so curious what his houses are and where that leo is. Because even though our moons affect us a lot, with 3 leo placements i would expect someone to be a little more extroverted.

Where I also see a lot of his Leo though, is of course, with how affectionate he is. he’s also very creative and a huge provider. A big misconception with leo is that all they do is take. This is one side to leo, and Haechan is a good example of that side because he has the gemini and leo moon, but Jaemin is a really good example of the strong provider and caretaker side of Leo. With his earth placements too. he is definitely someone who prides himself on taking care of people.

now to compare his hexaco to his birth chart, his extroversion, emotionality, agreeableness and honesty-humility is lower than average. Sure, part of that could be the way he took the test, but I also think it can be seen in his very controlling earth placements. Having earth in 2 of the planets that hold a lot of our emotions and expression, and the fact that it is virgo and capricorn and not taurus, is making him very in control of his emotions and expression, and he has strong boundaries. It also makes him more introverted. The low agreeableness is just his whole chart honestly. Leo is a fixed sign, and even though virgo is mutable, they still have very particular ways they like to do things, and capricorn is a leader and takes charge.

His openness is interesting to me and I wanna say that I think it’s very similar to what I wrote for haechan. He’s open, but not necessarily emotionally driven. He is open about the things that drive him, so not emotions, but something else. Work. His morals and values. His boundaries. Things he does and doesn’t like! lastly, his conscientiousness also fits into this, virgo capricorn and leo are all extremely driven, passionate and hard workers and we know work and stability is a high value and priority of his.

tdlr; hard to read, very private and likes it that way. He is driven by work, ethic, stability and providing. He knows his values, and has little interest in things he doesn’t care for. Optimistic, weird, funny and a natural performer. Likes to be in control and needs to recharge a lot. Probably the most different off camera and at home.

and that’s part 3! Thanks you to everyone that has tuned into this series it was so much fun. Thoughts and feedback are always welcome <3

#cant believe I finished :’)#what does everyone think?#kpop astrology #kpop #NCT dream #mine #astrology #zodiac signs #jaemin #Haechan #astrology observations #astro community #renjun #mark #chenle #jeno #jisung

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tuber-culosis · 4 years ago

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I've been reading through a lot of radfem blogs and posts lately. and gotta say, i'm leaning a lot towards radical feminism. And im definitely gender critical.

but one topic I want to talk about in particular is the criticism of Islam.

Which I feel is totally valid considering the current state of mainstream islam and Muslims.

Mainstream Islam (is what you see on all social media, seemingly practised by a lot of Muslims) IS sexist. And homophobic. There's no use denying it, neither do I think I'm a bad Muslim for not supposedly defending my own religion. You have to recognise the flaws in your own system to improve and progress.

Then arises the question why am I still Muslim then/ why do I still practise Islam? If I recognise the way it is practised is sexist and homophobic, which are things I'm against?

The difference lies in my belief that "mainstream Islam" is much different from the root of Islam.

Many (read: a LOT, not all) modern Muslims have been influenced by ultra conservative movements that want to return Islam to the way they believe was practised during the time of the Prophet (pbuh), ie; some centuries back. This is propagated by the ideas of Salafism and Wahhabism that frankly, prevent progress, reform or any sort of growth in Muslim communities.

I personally have witnessed this in my own country, India, where women are increasingly wearing the hijab and even full body covering purdahs, not talking to the opposite gender, men not looking a woman other than their wives in the eye, etc compared to when my mother was a child, when almost all Muslim women dressed in normal comfortable clothes and there were no much gender segregations. (Gender segregation still existed to a certain degree due to conservative Indian culture ofc)

This radicalisation led to the development of ultra conservative Muslims who enforce sexist, homophobic and separatist policies in the name of God.

They claim to want to return to "true Islam" but they add so many unnecessary rules and regulations you have to follow in order to be a "true Muslim" that are almost so impossible to follow I can vouch I have unconciously broken like 50 of them in one day maybe. These "laws" are derived from:

1. The hadith

2. Arab culture

3. Poor translation of the Quran to fit these radical ideals.

Explaining each of these in a little more detail,

1. A lot of practising Muslims might come at me for this one, but I feel that considering the hadith to be a holy source of guidance and believing everything in the Hadith when there are so many contradictions and logical fallacies, is foolish.

For those who have no clue what the hadith is, Islam basically has the Qur'an, which is, as we believe, a holy book revealed by God to the Prophet (pbuh), which acts as divine guidance on how to live life as a good person. It has rules, suggestions, and guidance to take desicions on a lot of everyday matters we face. It was a godsend (hehe pun fully intended) to women, who weren't even allowed to own property back then. Muslims believe that the Quran is guaranteed againt corruption by God, as revealed in one of the verses. Therefore, to a believer, it is THE book to consult, and the verses will never change, no matter how many years pass. There's actually a really interesting way the Quran is coded, so people can know if it has been tampered with or not, if anyone is interested. But the bottom line is, for a Muslim, the verses of Quran cannot be challenged. There are various INTERPRETATIONS of said verses, but the core Arabic text is the same.

Now there is a secondary source of guidance in the form of Hadith, which is literature that claims to record things the Prophet (pbuh) has said in his lifetime. The problem I find, along with other hadith critics, is that it was compiled much later after the death of the Prophet. Muslims argue that these hadiths were passed down in a proper recorded chain of transmitters that can assure the message hasn't been altered or tampered with. The problem is, that the standard used then was just how reliable was a person's memory and how trustworthy they were, and they did not actually judge the actual content of the hadith. So even if a hadith hypothetically said "Kill all the disbelievers", (which, fyi, it does NOT) and it had a reliable chain of recorders, it would be accepted as "sahih" (trustworthy) hadith, even though it clearly goes against the guidelines of the Quran, where it says there shall be no compulsion in religion (which implies you cannot just murder anyone who refuses to believe/ believes another religion). If one actually examined the content of this imaginary hadith, it would be easy to see it's tampered with by people with or without malicious intent (for eg, it might've actually been "You can kill the disbelievers ONLY if they attack you and will not leave you and your family alone") or some may not even remotely be the words of the Prophet, as he only followed the Quran.

Also, the integrity of the Hadith isn't guaranteed by God anywhere in the Quran. To know more about this, I suggest you read this link , and this one.

So yeah, I take hadith with a (large) grain of salt. So I will not be including them in my discussion obviously.

Now a lot of these hadith have been fabricated, as established, or reflect something that was applicable specifically in that time and setting, seeing that the Prophet was an ordinary man who couldn't predict the future or know about all the different cultures of the world.

So even if the headscarf was a part of Arabian attire, that doesn't mean it has to be assimilated into our cultures now. Just because prostitutes used to pluck all their eyebrows out to signify that they are prostitutes (sex work is forbidden in Islam, because of the negative impact on women and society), doesn't mean that women are not allowed to pluck their eyebrows now.

Following these hadith blindly without considering for a moment that hey, these might be outdated, seeing it isn't meant for all time periods like the Quran, and half of these contradict themselves, maybe we shouldn't consider this as an authority on rules in Islam. Personally, I don't believe anything is forbidden that is mentioned as such solely in the Hadith, and not in the Quran.

But the staunch belief in all of these Hadith leads to micromanaging of women, and literally everyone else. Few ridiculous examples include:

women can't pluck their eyebrows

men can't wear silk or gold, and they need to grow beards

music and dance is forbidden (seriously???)

the Prophet married a literal child of nine years (no do not try to justify it as "it was acceptable back then". According to the Qur'an it wasn't. Girls had to be mature enough to reject or agree to marriages and literal children can't do that. There is plenty of research to prove that Aisha (ra), his wife, was at the very least 19 or 20. Again a case of unreliable and maybe purposefully manipulated Hadith. Scholars and people who uphold the theory that Aisha was 9, and hence, child marriage is legal are pedophiles through and through)

I feel that if anything, hadith should be considered with the authority of historical commentary, giving us more context to the times, and should never be blindly trusted just because a lot of scholars say it is a "sahih" (trusted) hadith.

Also a main feature of Islam is that you don't need an extra priest (no offence to religions who have priests) or a scholar to tell you things and intervene with God for you. You have a holy book, your own common sense and humanity, and you pray to establish a connection with God. Scholars are secondary OPINIONS who can provide insight from their knowledge and research to people who want it, but by no means any authority on things, just like hadith.

2. Arab culture and society, especially back the times that radicals want to emulate, was heavily patriarchal. Islam gave women rights and protection, but they were still limited by the cultural norms of that era.

What these people actually want is to return society to Arabic culture in that time period. (Exhibit A: the abaya/purdah for women and khandoorah for men. exhibit B: sex-segregated spaces)

Back then, women were expected to be caretakers and mothers, and men were expected to be the strong masculine protector.

Enforcing said cultural norms into modern day Islam is ridiculous. Saying that women rarely left the house back then, hence women shouldn't leave their houses now is the same as saying there weren't phones back then, so I shouldn't use one now. Would you ever give up your phones? So how about we do the same to women's autonomy and freedom? Adapt to modern times like regular humans?

If women were meant to stay at home, and meant to just rear children, and never meant to be seen in public, and never meant to be seen by the opposite sex, as extremists say "is God's will", then why is none of this found in the Quran? Do you seriously believe that God, describe multiple times as All-forgiving and generous and kind, would ever persecute women to such a fate? If you do believe that, then maybe you need to re-examine in the nature of God that you believe in. Also if you tell me the "it's for their safety" gimmick, I will flip out. It has been proved multiple times that a woman's dressing has nothing whatsoever to do with why men rape.

Sure, Islam advocates for modesty in dressing, for both sexes. Both are called to not stare rudely (many Muslim men seem to forget that part of the verse, strangely), both are advised to dress in modest, comfortable, clean and practical attire. Never once is anything remotely like "YOU'LL GO TO HELL IF YOU EXPOSE YOUR ELBOW, WOMAN". But the way modern Muslims enforce the dress code (some even going to the lengths of saying women shouldn't wear BRIGHT COLOURED CLOTHES, so as to not attract attention!!! I'm looking at you, Mufti Menk), you'd think that God says something much worse than that. Infact God pulls out Uno reverse, and encourages us to dress as beautifully as we want, especially when visiting the mosque.

3. A lot of English translations of the Quran come from Saudi Arabia. A country famous for its conservative practise of Islam. While the original Arabic text cannot be changed, a lot of these translations include information in parantheses that add "rules" based on the above mentioned factors, that a casual reader or a new Muslim who doesn't know Arabic will consider to be authentic rules of the Quran, extrapolated from the verse, and not extra additions that are often derived from hadith. A very good example of this is the headcover verse, which you can see in this link.

Even all the hostility surrounding homosexual people has been derived from cultural influences and one set of verses. From around 6000 verses, just a single set passingly mention homosexuality. Don't you think that if it truly were such a great sin, God would have explicitly forbidden it? Also why would he create such a natural variation in sexuality and then forbid it? Why isn't it forbidden for animals then? Is all-loving God that cruel to create this natural and healthy attraction in them and then explicitly forbid it when straight people get to marry and live life in bliss? (Please don't say that "God also created pedophilia, and that's natural, so by this logic shouldn't we allow that too?" because pedophilia IS NOT HEALTHY, AT ALL. IT'S IS A DISORDER. Unlike homosexuality) I'm also not picking and choosing things to fit my lifestyle, as some might say, as I am straight, and the only reason I support the LGBT community because I have basic humanity?? And they're humans who deserve rights and joy and freedom and acceptance just like the rest of us.

There have been reformed translations of Quran which examine the verse without prior bias against LGBT people, and they have presented an alternate translation, that the verse condemns sexual assault, which happened to be homosexual in the particular story. Check out this link too, which explains how closely examining the words used could change the meaning from one thing to another.

What I attempted to prove in this extremely long post is that the practise of a religion isn't necessarily the reflection of its true nature.

There are progressive open-minded people who believe in Islam because it gives them hope and solace. People who believe because core beliefs of Islam aligned with their own views and simple logic.

NOT to say there aren't religious bigots who will totally use religion to manipulate people into oppressing themselves or other people. There are, there are a LOT of people like that who call themselves "scholars". And there are a lot of people who follow these extremely harmful regressive version of Islam without critically thinking about what they are following.

I've seen a post discussing the meaning of the word Islam, which means submission to God. It said that it implies total submission, without questioning what we believe.

That is an argument used by both religious extremists to further their beliefs, and by the opposite side, who say the religion is oppressive.

I wish to present a view that Islam itself tells us to think critically, to use our brains to question everything and anything we believe. And then to arrive at our own conclusions. And if you're a decent, kind human, those beliefs maybe align with Islam (not saying that if you're not Muslim, you're horrible, that is not what I meant at all). And if the opinion between people differs, there's always logic and reasoning behind every rule that is presented in the Quran. Don't believe me? Here's the verse that tells people not to blindly follow their parents' religion. And here's a list of verses about critical thinking.

The reason we (atleast reformist Muslims) submit to God is because we questioned it, we came to the conclusion that Hey! This is right. I can submit to my Creator by, who is basically the consciousness that created everything and is the source of all goodness, love and strength, because the rules mentioned here make sense and they privde a moral framework for me to base important desicions on. They feel right. And there is logic behind everything written in this.

I don't mean to present Islam as an all-perfect amazing religion everyone should believe and that I'm right, everyone else, especially those liberal atheists who criticise my religion are wrong and WILL BURN IN HELL. I consider Islam a perfect moral framework, and that's my business only. Anyone can follow what they want and it's none of my business. In fact there is no compulsion in religion at all, and people who say Muslim or go to hell are wrong imo.

What I intended was to paint a picture of reformist Muslims who are still out there, who follow the religion because they questioned it. And not the religion as this stringent rule book we all have to follow down to a t, micromanaging every aspect of our lives and living in perpetual fear of hell, but rather this basic moral guide that teaches us tact, compassion and justice, to bring us closer to God spiritually. I wanted to show that the majority isn't always reflective of what I think is the true core of Islam.

I feel that many practises in the name of Islam are highly questionable and should be criticized, but I also want people to know that the people who seemingly represent the religion, are not representative of the entire mass of believers. That sometimes the practises you might criticize might have nothing to do with the actual religion, atleast according to some of us. It was also for fellow Muslims who might be in the same place I was a few years ago, questioning everything I had learnt was part of my religion.

This is also NOT to undermine struggles of people forced to follow Islam and its seeming requirements like hijab. This is not to claim that nope, every Muslim is fine and ok, and we're all peaceful progressive people. In fact I wish to do the exact opposite, to show that people who enforce oppressive policies in the name of Islam aren't actually backed by the religion and neither should they be backed by other Muslims. I'm also not trying to say no one should criticize Islam. Criticism helps us grow. Criticism is necessary to uncover oppression and eradicate it. So by all means, criticize.

I'm so glad I found the subreddit r/progressive_Islam when I did because it helped me a lot, and opened me to other like-minded progressive Muslims, who actively hope to counter the negative effects of Salafism and conservatism that is overtaking Islam.

So yeah, I think I covered almost everything I wanted to talk about and here's a final link that pretty much just states my position on things.

PS idk why this thingy is in different colours it just seemed cooler and less boring to read

#religion #islamicpost #radfem #gender critical #muslim #progressive #change #critical thinking #sexism #feminism #feminist #allies #humanity #extremism #womenempowerment #freewomen #headcovering #mine

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alatismeni-theitsa · 3 years ago

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Do you have any sort of, words of encouragement, for a Greek-American who is struggling to learn Greek? My family is pretty connected to our heritage but I was never taught to speak Greek. I am an adult now, and I know I'm at an incredible disadvantage trying to learn a new language. The most discouraging thing is when I try to pronounce a word with a sound that isn't really in English (like γ) and I KNOW I am not saying it right, but no matter how hard I try I can't pronounce it correctly.

Hello! I'm very sorry for delaying this answer for some days, but as we see here, Zeus was fucked this week 😅

I will pin my answer so you can see it when you return, and the rest will be under the cut.

I believe there are MANY reasons for hope in this situation. Of course it feels very discouraging that you don't know the language already and you might feel left behind in this process. Plus, learning a new language is not an easy thing to learn. But worry not!

You are grown, and that means you can learn a language better and with more consistency and discipline. Have trust in your skills as an adult. What is more, you have grown up around Greek speakers and you will pick up certain things faster.

You are not alone in feeling this way. Most of the world has to learn a second language (and a third, as it's usual for many) and that would be the language most dominant in the wider area. Almost every person in the West who is not an English speaker has to learn English and learn it well, otherwise we feel embarrassed every time we try and form a sentence. For example, we apologize to each other about our accents in English German and French, even though we speak Greek.

Surely there are some differences between your situation and ours, but I mentioned this to show you that most people will be very understanding with accents because they have the same struggle. I mean, I'm not going to make fun of someone for having an accent in Greek when I sound like a demented chicken in German, despite taking years of lessons 😵 I have more confidence in my English but even now that I'm writing to you in this language I have to quadruple-check my sentences and phrasing. The amount of times I apologized in advance for my accent to English speakers is higher than my credit.

I relayed your situation to other Greek speakers and non-English speakers, and ALL agreed the accent is not anything they would pay attention to and told me to write you that you shouldn't feel bad about that. I did that because I knew they would have words of encouragement for you. And it turns out they believe exactly what I'm writing in this answer.

Accents are natural. You cannot expect not to have an accent when you have been speaking a different language all your life. Beating yourself up for having difficulty with the Greek pronunciation is like beating yourself up for something normal like walking or laughing when hearing something funny. You lack practice with the pronunciation due to circumstances beyond your control. You are doing what you can to change that, and every small win is worth celebrating!

I found this post the other day:

The notes? The likes?

And NO disagreements in the comments and reblogs for OP’s statement! Look how many thousands are supportive in this! (And that’s a small fraction of people who understand accents are natural.) And some of the responses:

Sure, some mention they have met native speakers who made it more difficult to feel comfortable with their accent and phrasing. But those people are assholes in general, and not the people you want to surround yourself with. If a relative expresses disgust about your accent remind them you didn’t have any control of how much and how well you were taught Greek when you were a kid, and then tell them that if they are a true friend and relative to you, they should support you in your journey. And even if you had some control and chose not to learn, you are learning now. So they should leave their resentment behind because, honestly, what do they have to lose from you learning the language better??

For the embarrassment you feel for yourself: you wouldn't make fun of a Greek for having trouble with the “r”, "s", “ch”, and possibly the "h" when speaking English, so extend that kindness to yourself when you speak Greek. Not to mention that with enough practice and time you can nail the accent!

Worst case scenario, if the accent never leaves, that's no problem whatsoever. Anyone who thinks badly of you for your accent is probably a PoS and they don't deserve your time. No matter where you are from, if they make you feel bad for having an accent in Greek, block them from your mind forever.

But chances are that (from experience) if anyone laughs with how you said something, I guarantee they are not laughing at you but because of how strange the sound or phrasing was. The person doesn't think badly of you because of this. Making mistakes of any kind when learning a language is very natural and it's something everyone must accept. If you are not willing to make mistakes and expose your language vulnerabilities to people who know the language better, might as well not try improving at all.

If anyone corrects you, they are not doing it out of pity. The majority of Greeks do it because they are very happy you speak the language and want you to be even more fluent. Like, they are doing it as an act of backing you up, they are feeling like they are giving you that extra XP to reach the next level! Others - like me - get that rush of happiness when they get to share their language with others 😁

I remember a guy on Tiktok who was learning Greek and ordered a coffee "without sugar" in a Greek cafe but instead of saying σκέτο ("without") he said σκατά ("shit"). I mean damn that was funny! I remember it weeks after I saw the video of him telling that story and it always cracks me up. Do I still appreciate him the same as before and follow him? Absolutely! He just had an unfortunate - and funny - incident, not something that lessened his integrity as a person.

From tiktok again: An American girl wanted to pronounce γύρος correctly when ordering it, and she was mumbling to herself on camera: “yeero, yeero, yeero!!” When her time to order came she shouted “May I have a gairow? FUUUUCKK FUUCK FUCK I SAID IT WRONG” 🤣

Another example is Athena from the Bachelor 2! She has given some gems throughout the show because she doesn't know the language that well, but everyone still loves her because she spreads positivity and is so cute!! If we, as viewers, disliked her it would be because of her character, not because she doesn't know the language well. And if some of the other girls in the show don’t take her seriously is because she laughs too much and mentions feta too often, not due to her Greek level of literacy. Athena, even when she is hurting someone else’s feelings, is always so genuine and you just can’t be mad at her!

I really can’t stretch enough how people laugh at the mishap, not the person! Please don’t feel discouraged if you ever see a Greek laughing with the pronunciation of an English speaker when it comes to Greek words (which I have done as well) because we never laugh at the speakers. We don’t even know them! We might laugh at one mistake but then instantly want to become this individual’s friends because we think they are amazing (see the three examples I mentioned above, the sugar guy, the gyro girl and Athena). Because that’s the normal thing to do; laugh at fun stuff and not judge people for their small mishaps. (In a casual setting, and not to an uncomfortable degree ofc!)

There are so many things to a person other than their accent and the accent becomes old news really fast. What remains is how the presence of a person makes you feel and if they are a good individual. If an English speaking friend says yatakai instead of γατάκι that opens the way for sooo many jokes! Greeks will laugh, do some YATAKAAIIII screams - ninja style, and then continue being friends with that person!

Greeks makes these mistakes as well... A Greek once said "arrive arrive" (φτάνει φτάνει) instead of "enough" when an English speaker was filling his glass. A Lower English degree caught fire that day 🤣 I have many bad examples of Greeks’ mistakes in English but I can’t remember a lot. But I’ve seen many videos of Greeks mocking themselves for how they sound in English. You can take a look at Tsipras’ (our former prime minister) mistakes on youtube if you are feeling brave 😂 (Ο Τσίπρας μιλάει Αγγλικά)

So, own your possible mistakes, laugh at them and move on because everyone makes them and we better have some good while we are struggling!

(( For the record, we are not making fun of Tsipras because of his accent, but because 1) he doesn’t know γρι English and yet he rarely brought a translator with him in international meetings with world leaders, 2) he could absolutely not hold a conversation with negotiating or discussing 3) he didn’t take steps to improve or fix the situation (like bring a translator). 4) Instead, he chose to torment us all with mind-numbing hours of reading English texts and making other world leaders struggle to explain to him what they meant for the nth time and meetings move at a snail pace.))

Alright, now that I cringed with the memory of Tsipras speaking English, I’ll go though the recommendations for improving the Greek pronunciation.

1) Go to my resources for learning Greek (#learn greek) where I have many videos where you can hear the sounds individually or withing other words very clearly. Easy Greek on youtube has excellent videos about pronunciation!

2) Seek practice as much as possible. Some Greeks switch to English when they hear an English accent to make the conversation smoother for the other person. If Greek speakers insist on talking with you in English tell them that you would wish to speak in Greek. I've seen that people often mirror the accent of the native speaker when they speak to one, so this might work for you as well with hours of practice. If no Greek speakers are available to you now, you can find Greek Americans online – or go to their festivals – and start talking to them.

3) Listen to Greek podcasts, songs and shows. (In my blog you’ll find them at #greek youtuber #podcast #greek tv #greek movie #short film #greek music). You know when you hear a catchy foreign song and then it’s stuck in your head and you say all the words perfectly without even knowing what it means? Well, this helps with pronunciation!

4) If you had Spanish in school or have Spanish friends mimicking the Spanish accent might help you. (Our accents are extremely close! The Spanish are the best at Greek pronunciation, and vice versa!)

5) Find sounds in your native language that sound close to the sounds you want to say in Greek. In German lessons I had trouble with “ch” in certain words because I made it sound like χ and it was horrible. My Greek teacher told me to remember how χ sounds in χήνα (it sounds a bit flatter) and make that sound when I encountered “ch”. It worked actually!

To people who have English as their native language I often suggest they remember the sound of w for γ because, although not used the same in the word, at times they have the same intensity. Γ is pronounced more “to the front” of the mouth, so if you can bring that sound forward in your mouth you’ll be very close, if not accurate, to γ. (But don’t bring it too much forward, sometimes it can sound like a “y”, unless you are saying a word where γ sounds like “y”).

Greeks pronounce σ more closely to “sh” than to “s”, so you also might want to keep that in mind since σ often distinguishes the Greek accent in English for me :p

That’s all! If you have more questions or want to tell me anything else about your experience with learning Greek, feel free to send another ask or a DM!

#answered #learn greek #pronunciation #encouragement

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Never Break the Chain Pt. 3

Part 3 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Esme keeps her distance and Javier's obsession gets worse. She decides to let him find her and they're both faced with the hard questions they've been suppressing for decades.

Warnings/Tags: Reunited Lovers. Angst. Yearning. Difficult adult conversations. Regret. Nostalgia.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Steve stood staring and ignored by a red-eyed and greasy Peña still hunched over a desk with boxes of old files piling up around him. The boxes obscured half of him, stacks that started on the desktop, now on the floor. His nose twitched from the dust and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

“Did you ever leave?” Murphy moves a few boxes to sit on his desk that had been commandeered for Pena’s obsession.

As if snapping out of a trance, Javier looks up and around, seeing morning light again through the high windows in the cool-hued room that lacked any warmth in its sterile choice of furnishings. “Guess not.” he yawns and looks back down at the work he’s done.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Thanks.” he gruffs out and stretches, a noise that half groan and half yawn escapes him.

“Did you at least find anything?”

“Plenty.” he pauses and rubs his face. “Unfortunately.” he pushes a legal pad full of scribbled notes with dates.

“These...all her?”

“I think so.”

“Damn Javi, you sure can pick ‘em.” he grins at the expense of his partner.

“She always said she was gonna be rich.”

“The Lucchia Heist?” Steve snorts in amusement.

“Potentially. She’s…” he lets out a slightly crazed but hushed laugh. “She’s fuckin’ good.” he covers his face before resting his head on his palm, supported by the desk. “I’d bet my badge she’s framed more people than I’ve even had time to find. Had a million aliases. Been everywhere from Corpus Christi to Lima. I’ve traced her down the continent.”

“And she landed right in your backyard.” Steve tosses the roughed-up papers, months of research, back in front of him. “You’re not a man who believes in fate are ya Javi?” he smirks.

“She said she didn’t know I was here.” a mumbled response as he begins putting away his research.

“And you believe her?”

He focuses on removing the evidence of his fascination, putting it away in a drawer that’s near full and dedicated to her. He stops and pauses, a thoughtful expression before answering, “I might be another sucker in the long list she’s got but... yeah, I do.”

-----

With the aged bulbs in the generic hotel room, the woman with him was easy to push out of his mind. He outstretched his arm as she pulled on her panties with a jump.

“Who is Esme?” she asks softly, attempting to make a connection with a man she felt she almost knew with as many times as they’d been together.

He didn’t look her way and motioned the hand with the money in it again.

“You’ve had your nights before but… the past few months you’ve... and now tonight? Should I be worried?”

“No,” he states with a bite. It wasn’t directed at her but himself. He tossed the money onto the bed and moved to light a cigarette. “You shouldn’t be no matter how I act.”

She holds in a sigh, a grimace on her face as she pockets the money and dresses. “Are you su-”

“What do you want to hear?” he turns his head sharply her way, brow low, but not aggressive enough to make her fear him.

She knew men, and she knew his problem was a woman, not the job like it usually was. Javier didn't get emotional over work when they were together. He would be rougher sometimes, softer others... but a disconnect was far from the usual. He was a client she was glad to hear from. He treated her with respect, he looked her in her eyes and handled her as if he cared about how she felt while they fucked. It was rare but entirely welcome. She curses herself silently for caring. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” she answers curtly. “You’re right.” she nods and gathers her things. “I’ll go.”

“It’s not you-” he begins with his head down before she passes him at the foot of the bed.

“I know. It’s not my business. It’s... I know women. It's hard to believe you would have trouble with one.” she lets out a smile to break the tension and his face doesn’t tell her if she succeeded or not. “You know where to find me.” she says kindly, something he felt he didn’t entirely deserve at the moment. He could hear her heels patting down the hallway outside when she left, fading until she was down the elevator and gone.

He gives his forehead a hard rub, nails scratching into his scalp before taking a long drag. “Fuck.” he exhales loudly to an empty room. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

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

The heat was something he had grown up with, he never found that part of Colombian weather to be difficult. But the humidity, that was a different experience. He quickly lost any self-consciousness about the sweat showing through his shirts, everyone else's looked the same. Propped against a stucco wall that was radiating the sun's warmth into his back, he partook in his condensation-covered beer bottle and his favorite public activity, people watching. It was an art form for him, once an amusing pastime that he made a living off now. There was no short of things to look for, the Festival of Flowers was in full swing and everyone was crowded into the streets. It was loud, a bit chaotic, and exactly the sort of crowd he felt comfortable observing.

The Discoteca a few streets down was powerful, sending music out over the radios in stalls and stores dotted along the streets surrounding it. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but that didn’t stop Javier from having an annoyed expression. Songs from his past would play casually, feeling anything but in his head. He knocked back the rest of his drink and promptly got another every time a memory was triggered.

It had been almost a year now since he’d seen Esme. From what he’d learned, he wasn’t surprised. She could keep playing the phoenix forever. She could’ve been across the world by now and he was powerless to pursue her. Of all the possibilities, he still held onto the statistical probability that she was still around. She had good connections here, it made sense for her to stay. This unignorable fact led his obsession to be indulged by his profession, his paranoia fueled by his keen observational skills. A handful of times he would’ve bet he'd seen her. Sometimes he could follow, others he couldn't. Either way, he ended up at a brothel and with a woman who may look like her but wasn’t. The boisterous festival crowds would be a perfect place for her to be anonymous, the plumes of flowers were cover to disappear in plain sight. He wouldn’t admit to himself, but he was feeling hopeful. Or was it the alcohol?

Esme, with her head heavy from the large crown of flowers she wore, matching her brightly colored traditional dress skipped and hopped her way across the rooftops of the lively streets. She held the flowers to her head and jumped from pitch to pitch with her woven shoes. She knew this part of the city in light or dark. Not just for her safety but for means to get the drop on others. Her work with the cartel made sure she was knowledgeable in such things. But it also came in handy for a specific reason she’d been indulging in for almost a year now.

He was moping around his usual watering hole for this part of town. She sat with her head on her hands, between two flower pots, watching Javier from the safety of the rooftop across the street. She’d seen him many times, mostly taking home girls, or spoiling them with nice hotels for the night. Since she now knew the Pena she’d heard of was HER Pena, she asked the local sex workers about him and she wasn’t let down with the gossip they shared. She found out he’d been looking for her, not that any of them knew she was this infamous woman the playboy was hung up on. After a polite offer of employment, she dipped out and felt an odd satisfaction in what he’d become. It wasn’t ideal by any means but he was a good man. That was more than she would’ve guessed he’d become with the company he kept.

Each song from their past hit their ears at the same time, both suppressing a sigh as it floated down the streets, imagining a simpler time with one another. She’d missed him. Just as he had, she’d tried to drink and fuck the pain away for a bit but it didn’t work as well for her. She was left feeling nostalgic and downright amorous about him, seeing him lean, strong, and handsome against that wall. Sweat beading down his neck like it did on the bottle he held. She wanted to pop those buttons right off his shirt and- she knew it wasn’t smart to indulge in such fantasies. But he was the only man left that she even cared to think about when he wasn’t directly in her line of sight. She wanted to see him again. Was she willing to throw away months of laying low for a rendezvous? The summer sun made her feel young, the songs pumping blood to places, like her heart, it didn’t normally flow anymore. It made her feel young again. And at this point, it was a welcome and sought-after feeling.

——

A group of dancing girls covered in flowers with wide sweeping skirts made their way down the street. They wore smiles and the brightest of colors, dancing with each other and passersby as carts of flowers were pushed around them. Esme had been in South America long enough to know how to blend in. It was easy considering she didn’t look like a gringo. Her Latin heritage assured a degree of anonymity and mixing in, adding in the factor of whirling skirts and a blur of color from flowers she melded right in. Her chameleon skills were enviable but Javier’s observation skills were better.

Of course, he’d look at the group of beautiful women flouncing towards him. He seldom passed a woman he didn’t take a second glance at. As he glanced over their faces, to see if any had been friendly to him previously, the set of emerald green eyes grabbed him as they sat deep-set in a heart-shaped face he used to know intimately. Like a dog with a scent caught in his nose, he perks up, bottle discarded as he takes a step towards the street. She separates herself, a clear view of each other for a moment before a smile as bright as the sun beating down on them meets his gobsmacked expression. For only a moment there’s an unbroken line of sight and he instinctively pursues. With a bite of her lip that was a mix of flirtation excitement and a challenge, she spins on her heel and runs to an alleyway. He was fast on his feet behind.

This was where she felt at home, fast and light on her feet through small spaces and over walls. She desired to test Javi, combined with her caring about anyone seeing them, luring him to a safe space. She could hear his grunts and calls of her name like it was a swear as she’d climb and hop drain pipes and fences. All he could hear was the occasional heavy breath and giggle coming from her. They moved away from the busy streets, up higher over every sketchy rooftop, and eventually came to climb onto a secluded and blocked-off rooftop together.

“You've still got it Javi.” she laughs breathlessly, hands on her knees from the far side of the roof he’s slid onto.” her face beams his way, a sheen of sweat catching in the sun as she fluffs back her hair.

“I never lost it,” he grunts, dusting off his jeans. “Can’t afford to.” he pauses and regains his cocky posture.

“You look good.” she offers as a compliment, both closing the space between them to face off.

He takes his time, looking her up and down, unsure of her motives, yet she'd always had that wild streak. He used to love that about her. Now it made it hard to read. “So do you.” he presents in response to her out-of-place compliment.

“It's nice to finally see you up close.” her face is relaxed, too relaxed in his opinion. She touches his chest, hands light on his collar and moving up to tuck back the messed pieces of dark hair from his sideburns.

“That mean you’ve seen me from afar?” he stands stoically still, letting her touch him, not ready to reciprocate.

“Possibly,” she smirks, eyes trailing over his now-adult facial features. His brow had hardened, his jaw rounder but still sharp. Her favorite part, his nose was now proportionate and he was even more attractive up close. She lets a small sigh slip, dedicating his handsome face to memory. “Couldn’t let you pick up on my location could I?”

“Is that why you knocked me out?”

She lets out a chuckle and pats his chest. “That was… an unfortunate mistake on your behalf and a fortunate one for me. I have laced lipstick I wear during jobs. Easy to kiss a man and get away. Less messy than shooting. And far quieter.”

“Poison lipstick…” he nods thoughtfully.

“I’ve spent years perfecting it, dosing myself with tiny amounts to have immunity. Took a note from the Renaissance covert killers.” she smiles proudly. “I’m very proud of it.”

“You should be,” he admits begrudgingly. “I’ve looked up your work. It’s… impressive.”

“That means a lot coming from you. Your career has been notable as well.”

“Looks like we both got what we wanted, huh?” The response was bleeding with sarcasm.

She bites her lip, her shoulders slumping just enough for him to notice. “It is what we said we wanted.” her voice was softer now, less playful and confident as he sees the lump in her throat bob up and down. He lets her sit with her words for a moment, seeing a passing sadness behind her eyes. They seemed even brighter green than he remembered. But memories aren’t always honest.

“Where have you been?” a demand, not much of a sweet inquiry.

“If you’ve looked at my records then you know already. “

“This past year. Where have you been?"

“In Colombia.” She gives a subtle shrug.

“So I don’t get an answer?”

“You want the longitude and latitude? I can’t give you exact locations so you can know where to find people.” She frowns.

“You think I give a shit about that?” His brow furrowed and his head tilts. She’s caught off guard by his defensiveness. “The shit I deal with… a couple of stones means nothing. I want to know about you. That’s why I asked where you had been. Not who you’d been with.”

She felt scolded. It wasn’t something she was used to. Still, he was the only man who could pull it off. “I have a place in the mountains I stay at on occasion. I float around and do jobs. There’s no specific place.”

“You have a place here and you couldn’t come find me?” He sounded almost hurt.

“I can’t have anyone know we know each other. They’d kill me. Kill you.” She knew he was accusing her of not caring. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. “I didn’t want you getting hurt.” She finally averts her eyes, a vaguely familiar ache in her chest growing.

He lets out a harsh laugh. “Should’ve thought about that twenty years ago when I thought you were dead.” He spits out. He sees the hurt in her eyes and he takes a moment to move her hands from him, and take a ragged breath. “You’ve been SO close this whole time. And I didn’t know…” he clenches his jaw and looks away to the horizon. Readjusting his posture he swings his head back her way and flares over her, an accusing finger in her face. “I can’t take this... you running around and not knowing SHIT about it.”

With sad eyes but a firm expression she swallows. “You used to get possessive like this. I remember… I’d-” Her voice is breathy and her hand moves to remove his from her face, a gentle hold that he answers harshly.

Grabbing her wrist, her eyes widen as he stares her down. “Don’t fucking tease me, Esme.”

Her brow furrowed quickly as she tries to tug away.

“I could take you in right now you know. For so many reasons.”

“You wouldn’t though.”

“Would I not?”

She stares with wide eyes that would’ve made him drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness when he was young. His worst fear was to hurt her back then. Now it was her getting hurt from her own actions.

“You have no idea the hell you put me through, do you? All this time not knowing for sure. And you’ve raised from the dead and think you can fuck with a man's head like this?” She could feel the bite of his words as he spoke quietly to her, letting her wrist go after he made his point. “Do you even give a shit or is this another game you’re running? Are you conning me too? Is there some guy who’s fallen for this shit somewhere with a gun on me right now?”

“How could you say that? I’d never.” She holds back a stutter in her throat. She felt something she hadn’t in a very long time, the sting of tears in her eyes. He regretted his outburst as soon as he saw it. He just had so many years of anger and hurt built up it was hard not to explode.

“Did you miss me at all?” His voice a whisper now, eyes wider and opening up like he was trying to.

It broke her to see him like this now. This stoic figure was just a shell covering that young man she left. She didn’t know it would hold onto him this long, that he did love her that much. “If you saw the wear on my rosary you'd have your answer. I prayed you to be safe. For you to get what you wanted.” She clears her throat and tries not to break.

“All I ever wanted was you.” A clear and plain statement. It was a fact.

“I had to make my own life.” She said it as an excuse and she hated the way it sounded coming from her. It made her feel weak. “You wanted yours.”

“We were kids. We didn’t know what the fuck we wanted.” He huffs out a strangled laugh.

She takes a deep breath and her time in answering. “We were. We didn’t.”

It was an admission of guilt on both their behalfs. They got what they said they wanted but was it really what made them happy? They’d been chasing a fix to fill a void of their own making. And now on the other side, the ugly truth of their dreams stares them and their unhappiness down every day.

“I’m sorry.” She adds and lowers her head. “I felt trapped and I knew you’d… do exactly what you are right now if you thought I was out there.”

“You were right.” He sighs and reaches to lift her chin revealing tears falling down her cheeks. He cups her face and wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I shouldn’t have reached out to you again.” She shakes her head.

“No...no, you should have.” He sighs heavily and pulls her into his chest, something she didn’t expect. “I’m sorry too.” He remarks into her hair, closing his eyes and feeling her in his arms. “I’m just…” he trails off. What could he say? I’m lost, I’m tired, unhappy, empty, angry? There wasn’t enough time to explain how he felt about this... about her. “I’m sorry too. I’m glad you let me find you. Okay?” He leans her head back to look up at him.

“I didn’t know you were here. In Colombia. I came here for work.”

“So did I.” He looks away purses his lips. “You know you can’t work for those men.” He wipes away her tears again, his hand smoothing her black waves away from her face. “They’ll kill you, Esme. The second you do something wrong they won’t even blink.”

“Like talk to you?” She arches a brow and gives him a soft smile. “I know, Javi. I know the risks.”

“And you still did it?”

“I missed you.” she admits with a soft exhale.

He pulls her in again, tighter this time. A kiss to her hair as he strokes his hands over her. “You know you need to get going. It’s almost night they’ll be crawling all over soon.”

She nods but doesn’t pull away. “They can’t see us here. There are no lookouts. It’s why I brought us here.”

“You know this place that well?”

“I have to. I don’t have a choice.” It felt hopeless as it left her trembling lips and it reflected more regret as she let it escape. It sounded as tired as she felt. It was as if being in his arms made her aware of how exhausted she was. How worn and hollow she was.

He knew the sound of exhaustion well. He heard it when he would deflect questions from the women he would pay to distract him from the one in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I know.” When she didn’t pull away, he didn’t make her. It gave him the answers he needed. At least what he needed to make it through another day without her for a short while.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#javier pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fan fic

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maskved · 4 years ago

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hello, besties ! this is ami (she/her) and i’m probably late with this intro ! first i’m sorry for mass-liking every post but i’m already in love with all your lovely muses. also i must confess that i’ve only read the first book ( years ago ) and watched the show because i have an attention span of - 10 seconds. but at least i’m a soc hoe, so we can scream about that ... please ... !!! so if i get anything wrong pls let me know or you can also not let me know and i’ll continue being embarrassing 😔. anyway, if you are interested in some juicy plotting pls LIKE this post or message me ( if you want to plot on discord we can also do that 💖). I’M EXCITED.

PINTEREST . discor*d six of hoes🔪#7888 // YEVA

[ viktoriya zobova ], an [ twenty six ] year old grisha in the little palace. she is a [ tailor ] and are known in the little palace as the [ viscerotonic ]. they are known to be [ resilient ] and [ elusive ] and vaguely resemble [ kristine froseth ].

death tw

- viktoriya zobova ( however, prefers to be called vika because every time one calls her by her full name she might as well be in trouble ) had never been more than average. born to average parents ( although grisha their powers pale compared to others ) into an average family and of course as the middle child, vika strived for more than simply being overlooked.

- truth to be told, she dreaded to be tested. to her it seemed like the final reminder that she was nothing special, average, merely an extra to someone other’s story. she even wished, she wouldn’t be a grisha, fearing that like her parents she’d belong to the lower ranks. however, if she turned out to be a simple human without any power, at least she’d be special within her family or could even try to make a story up that she was adopted or something ( i hate her -- ).

- however, the moment she found out about being able to alter people’s appearances with her ability *atla vc* everything changed -

- truth to be told she knew she was considered to be lower rank among others but what really fueled her arrogance and the sudden feeling of self importance was her knowing that she possessed a rare ability. she didn’t care others treating her badly for her rank because “hey i can alter appearances and that is lit ( she probably didn’t say it that way - )

- ALSO ( here comes the moment i throw in my found family trope bcs i’m a soc hoe and this actually plays a big role in her story ) she’d found comfort in the friends she met.

- (lemme add my childhood friends trope bcs why not ) as vika was never close to her parents ( to be fair her being taken away for the training at such a young age did not really gave her the time to really bond with her family ) her little group of friends became her second family. they called themselves “blood is thicker water” ( gang ???) bcs 1) vika really thought the saying was blood is thicker water and not blood is thicker than water 2) they thought they were incredibly funny.

- they were pretty much known as troublemakers, especially with vika being a tailor it was easy to sometimes shift the blame on others. truth to be told, it only caused vika to be more frivolous. all the fun they had blinded her judgment and she viewed her ability as harmless.

- well, lets say vika becoming more reckless did not end up being the best character development (lmao). as usual , everything started out as a harmless joke. her friend asked her to change his appearance. however, this time they wanted her to change their whole face. not just the colour of their hair or eyes. vika was reluctant at first, she’d never done it before but in the end she agreed to it and much to her surprise she succeeded. she even bragged about it and told her friends ( of the bloody “blood is thicker water” gang (???) ) .

- to cut a long story short, their friend ended up dying because of it. i have two versions for their death ( i haven’t decided on it yet *clown emoji*)

1) the person they changed their appearance into apparantly was involed in some shady stuff and had some pretty morally questionable people around him. they thought vika’s friends was that person they were looking for (bcs of the changed appearance) and killed them for some reason.

2) vika’s friend was supposed to be part of some mission they didn’t want to go to, thus changed their appearance to escape from it. however, ended up having to do another mission and ended up being killed.

RIP nameless but vital character to vika’s bio

- vika pretty much blamed herself for it and maybe her friends of their friend group as well. this incident also ‘humbled’ vika and now instead of being proud of it she hates it.

- right now, she doesn’t really know what to do with her future. she has this ‘oh so grand’ plan that one day she might be able to change her appearance (permanently) and then leave the little palace and live under a new name and lead a life where she wouldn’t need to use her abilities anymore.

personality ( i’m trying to keep it short i swear, i’m just adding a bunch of sentence here bcs i’m throwing all my ideas into this paragraph)

- she’s known to be pretty social. she loves to talk and honestly doesn’t know when to shut up. she can’t deal with silence because it forces her to think about things she doesn’t want to think about. although, her tongue is sharp and trouble seems to follow her, she also loves to dance around the issue, pushing her feelings away and replacing it with a witty joke instead. as if everyone does it the same way, as if everyone is supposed to understand.

headcanons

- although she was tempted to change her own appearance many times. she never did because she is a coward and doesn’t trust her skills as much others might think she does.

- she views her ability as a form of art, perhaps that is also the reason she used to love to paint. honestly, she was never really good at it. average and above average with practice. her friend ( the dead one lmao ) used to paint with her whenever they could sneak away but with them gone, she doesn’t see a point in it anymore.

- she secretly envies the other grisha’s who can use their ability to fight. recently, she’d find herself trying to practice some punches so she doesn’t feel that useless in case of a dangerous situation. she also sucks at that so she’s probably in need of a training patner aka someone who is willing to train her or she has annoyed that much that they were willing to help her out ( wc ???)

- being personally trained by the darkling, one might assume that she’s loyal or even thankful towards the darkling. however, contrary is the case and she wouldn’t even grant him a dust particle of her trust. she doesn’t believe that he has the best interest of anyone in his heart and if she could, she’d probably spread rumors about him and telling others that he has some serious case of stanky breath.

wanted connections ( just some ideas, which can be changed ofc ! or some wcs can be connected )

(0/3) “blood is thicker water” friend group : they pretty much grew up together. the death of their friend ( the friend needs a name - i swear...) caused tension within the group. while, one might have blamed vika for their death the other doesn’t and just wants them to be how they used to be. nevertheless, no one can deny that nothing was what it used to be). (( honestly these are just some ideas and we can plot wtv sddm )

training partner ( can be more than one ): connection mentioned in the hcs ! they help her a little out to become physically fit and level up her combat skills of -10. maybe they want something in return for it. help her out bcs they’re just nice or bcs vika annoyed the heck out of them etc.

person vika changed their friend’s appearance into: honestly we can do wtv with it. i just thought it’d be fun to play with the idea and having the person running around when they actually “died” and everyone belieed them to be dead until they found out that it was vika’s friend. might be angsty bcs it might remind vika of their friend.

angsty exes: listen, i love some angsty shit and i love to blame vika for all the problems. they might have dated before the whole dead friend fiasco happened. although, viktoriya acted as if she was fine after the incident ( which she wasn’t ),it only made muse a realize that vika and them weren’t as close as they believed and how much vika tied to hide from them. BUT tbh anything would work i love a good angsty ex connection djddnd

random idea but i just liked the thought that this person once went to vika for some enhancing stuff. however, this day vika was not really herself, distracted, head in the clouds. so she accidenally might have gotten rid of some important scar or something.

enemies : lbr, vika might prbly be the type who has some enemies. she has no filter and might has stepped on someone toes because of it. (Also maybe gimme some enemies to lovers trope , adding this here quietly to not expose myself as a hoe for that trope )

HONESTLY GIVE ME EVERYTHING, gimme angst, fluff, tropes !!??? more friends, unusual friends, shippy stuff, platonic stuff, family connections djdsd GIMME

#this got super long sddsn i'm sorry #she's super dumb thats her story just being dump #also i'm not ignoring my ims i will answer them asap !!!#ravkahq:intro #not me having to reedit the edit bcs i misspelled her surname *clown emoji*

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cvastals · 4 years ago

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look i kno i said i wasnt gna bring a 6th until i was caught up w replies bt i kno gunner well n therefore felt like he deserved his time to shine in the rp so i beg of u pls plot w him looks at u all like :B

* axel auriant, cis man + he/him | you know gunner paxton, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, four years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to bizarre love triangle by new order like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole curling up for days in bed wearing a hello kitty comfort shirt, stuttering in the face of affection, and hand me downs two sizes too big thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is july 31st, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( bri, 23, est, they/them )

background.

middle child of the paxton family, cliff being the eldest and wyatt being the youngest :D

they lived at the top of a hill in a trailer in a trailer park neighbourhood in laramie, wyoming so to say the least that fucking sucked for everyone involved

the trailer was so small that all 3 boys ended up sharing a room, gunner and wyatt sharing a bunk bed bc they cldnt fit 3 beds into one room it really was every childs nightmare bt they quickly grew used to it tbh

gunner was always more of an artsy child than invested in sports - though he does enjoy baseball and continued even to this day after their dad made him join SOMETHING in middle school - so he never rly earned their father’s respect, but he was always close with his mom since they had the same calm temperament

(depression/anxiety tw) he also gained a list of mental health issues that their mom had as well, including social anxiety and major depressive disorder

(violence/abuse tw) their father always encouraged pretty volatile behaviour and it caused a lot of physical fights and arguments between the brothers when their dad told them the best way to get over it was to start hurting until someone tapped out, it was just a chaotic and pretty abusive household but no one knew and their mom definitely wasn’t going to say anything about it to their dad

(missing child/kidnapping/anxiety/depression tw) wyatt went missing on a weekend that their parents were gone because of a trip they won, and things just got worse from there, high school was really rough for gunner, his anxiety grew worse as time went on that no one found wyatt, their dad grew more hostile towards them, cliff left home in the middle of the night never to be seen again (merely leaving a note so that the family didn’t think they had a case of two kidnapped children), and their mom just grew sicker, it was rare that she would ever leave her room and if she did it was in fits of random energy where she would do something spontaneous and completely unnecessary to their house as a way of coping

the two years that gunner was at home after cliff left were pretty brutal and as soon as he could, he was fleeing wyoming and going to school in irving

(internalized homophobia tw) things are far better now that he’s out of his home situation, but ofc he still has a few personal things he’s working thru; the paxton’s were raised in an incredibly religious household, and he’s got some classic Catholic Guilt going on upon realizing that he’s not jst attracted to women n he avoided talking abt it forever/stayed in the closet fr far too long bt he’s sort of come out now in his own way even tho he does still get a bit nervous talking abt it rly

he’s also ‘dealing’ rn (just pharmaceuticals) which is frankly funny to think abt bc this man is abt as threatening as a care bear bt money is tight all things considering and a librarian job doesn’t rly cover it, and with the amount of meds he’s on, plus incredibly frequent doctor’s visits, needing to pay for extra epi-pens, inhalers, etcs. bills add up so he’s cutting back his meds n selling wht he can spare which is . so unhealthy bt thts life in corporate america baybee!

details.

is literally allergic to everything. grass, cats, most fruits, milk, most nuts, bees, latex, probably more i cnt even keep up w them its pathetic

u can catch him strutting around town w his blinged out epipen holder (aka blinged out w pins of his fav horrors movies) LKSHDGKLHSKLDG

if things cldnt get worse he also has quite intense asthma so he carries an inhaler with him at all times

n to make matters even WORSE he frequently has dizzy spells n bad memory problems bc of all the concussions he’s suffered from (about 8-9 at this point) as well as consistent migraines that can b literally debilitating sometimes

awkward n jst a bit of a Weirdo to b frank like he barely knows how to converse with ppl

didnt have any friends in high school so took the time to teach himself rly weird things, knows a fuck ton of magic tricks, can yodel, juggle, solve a rubix cube with his eyes closed in under 30 seconds, just extremely weird and specific things

can honestly b a bit mean/barbaric to ppl he’s not close w/doesn’t kno - has told ppl to their face before he doesn’t enjoy talking to them bc he has no concept of social constructs/norms

loves 2 film random things at parties, makes him feel more comfortable at them n he makes short films of them all after

going off that fact he did a film internship in nyc during the summer and is trying to find a job in that field

doesn’t realize demisexuality is a thing so he’s never been that fond of sex but has this stigma in his mind that that makes him Broken so he still Tries n it jst doesnt go well tugs my shirt collar

connections.

ppl who r more into under the counter meds than Hard Drugs n buy off him?? probs wld have to kno him some way hes too scared to sell to Random randoms

ppl he went to school w? :D

some friends………. hes awkward bt he means well…………

ppl he has a crush on/unrequited crushes either way wtvr floats ur boat he crushes quite easily but never does anything abt it fr the most part

a mans he wld Risk It All fr (aka a guy tht he actually has a crush on n is Extra Awkward probs a lil mean to bc hes still New to That)

some enemies tbh, he has a temper n he tends to blow up rarely bt it happens n when it does it actually can b quite scary JKSHDGLHSDG

a muse….. mayhaps?? someone he always wants in his film projects

awkward past hook ups/one night stands where one of them cut ties off cuz every time they got together gunner acted like he was embalming a body for a funeral

current hook ups/fwb’s w ppl he’s actually close w/is comfortable w so its nowhere near as bad SDKHSLDGHKLSDGH

Anything u Desire

#irvingintro #depression tw #anxiety tw #violence tw #abuse tw #missing child tw #kidnapping tw #internalized homophobia tw #tugs my shirt collar at all those tws............. SLKDHGLKHSDGKLHSDKLGHSDG #as per usual i didnt proofread lets all pray bri didnt make a mistake.

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clvmtines · 3 years ago

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welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you ! has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine.

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park.

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries.

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears.

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold.

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive.

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh.

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people.

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself.

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks.

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

#seasintro #addiction tw #alcohol tw #drugs tw

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years ago

Text

internship (hc) | p.p.

summary: tony stark not only helped in bringing together a group of people to protect earth, but also in sparking young love

warnings: i love this one very cute very fun i think i cussed once? idk

+ + +

- we all know peter parker has (had????) an "internship" with tony sTaNk

- but, despite that being fake, tony does actually have an internship program

- and, luckily for you, you're one of tony's most prized interns

- the moment he looked at your resume he knew you'd be a perfect fit

- your extremely rare high level of intellect shocked him

- in fact, you were almost even smarter than the man

- the two of you bonded right away

- at this point you were able to lounge around avenger hq in sweats and no makeup

- one day tony asked you to help him on his new project

- you said yes, ofc

- much to your surprise, this project was spider-man's new suit

- of course you'd seen videos of the web-slinger on youtube (who hadn't?)

- so obviously this project made you very excited

- you got to work right away, coming to the hq everyday after school

- you and tony were extremely proud of the final product

- he asked you to program the AI for the suit (soon-to-be karen!!!!!!!)

- and that was the first time peter saw you

- you were sat on the ground, legs crossed, holograms in the air as you worked

- too focused on your work, you hadn't noticed a certain boy in the doorway

- tony was giving him the rundown on the germany trip while showing him around the place, but peter got sidetracked when he saw you in the office

- the boy stopped dead in his tracks, focus honing in on you

- luckily for you, you had put on some mascara that day

- but you were still donned in some of your best sweatpants and an old shirt from school that was way too big for you

- yet, peter parker being peter parker, couldn't help but be starstruck (STARKstruck???) when he saw you

- well, every girl in the world was gorgeous to him, for goodness sakes

- but something about you caught him off guard

- "mr. stark, who's that?" peter whispered

- an all-too-knowing smirk grew on tony's face

- "y/n!" he called - your head shot up from the holograms and towards the door, where you made immediate eye contact with peter

- it wasn't long before a small blush grew on your face

- as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn't look at a boy (or girl, too, if you're bi or anything!) anymore without mentally rating their appearance - this is what being single your entire life does to a person

- needless to say, peter parker was HIGH on the list of attractiveness

- you quickly averted your gaze to tony, grin still tugging on his lips

- "yeah?"

- "this is peter." tony responds, gesturing towards the boy

- "h-hi," peter awkwardly blurts, giving a slight wave

- "hey," you reply, maybe a bit too bReAtHlEsSlY

- a few awkward seconds pass before you give the two a slight nod and get back to your work

- tony begins walking away, dragging peter along with him

- peter hurls series of questions about you at the man, which only made tony's smirk grow

- the two of you began to have more and more awkward encounters at the tower

- most of the time, you'd be working and he'd walk by, seeing you either by coincidence or on purpose

- but sometimes you would just be lounging in the living area, stuffing pizza in your mouth as you watched harry potter

- your levels of nonchalance made peter begin to question if you were mr. stark's secret daughter

- but no one needed to know he wondered that

- the more the two of you saw each other, the more you were on each other's minds

- the small "hey"s began to turn into conversations

- the first real conversation was started by peter (which was only possible through a rare burst of confidence)

- it started with the usual "hey"s

- and then peter asked about your internship

- he saw the way your eyes lighted up when he asked the question and it made him feel warm

- the conversation sparked into more:

- "what about you?"

- "what do you mean.. what about me?" peter asked

- "why do i see you here so often?"

- "oh. uh, also... intern... ship."

- the boys heartbeat began to quicken as you raised an eyebrow at him

- "why are you looking at me like that?"

- "nothing," you smile

- the two of you talk about school and life and stuff

- after peter bids you an awkward goodbye (he has to go train to do spider things!!) he begins to make his way out of the room

- "bye, spider-man," you yell

- peter whirls around, panic present on his face

- "how did you-?"

- "i'm not an idiot, parker."

- it didn't take your genius brain to connect all the dots (especially cause sometimes when you saw him it would be right after he finished training and he'd be all sweaty?????? which made you forget how to breath just a lil??)

- the two of you began holding actual conversations more and more

- you find yourself watching videos of spider-man swinging throughout the city

- the two of you stalk each other on insta, both marveled by the pictures the other posts

- eventually you say yolo and just follow him

- he follows you back literally like two seconds later

- during one of your run-ins at hq he gets all flustered

- "you okay?"

- "yeah," peter breathes, "uh, could i, uh, if you're okay with it, could i-"

- "dude."

- "sorry. could i please get your number please?"

- a small smile grows on your face before you reach out a hand, the boy hurriedly grabbing his phone and practically shoving it at you

- you type your name in with a little smiley face and then send yourself a quick "hey"

- you found yourself giddily smiling for a solid few minutes after he left

- one day you find yourself scheming on a way to get peter over to the tower (you were bored as heck; you'd already finished your work)

- then you got an idea

- peter was over mere minutes after you texted him

- he rings the buzzer and you tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let him in

- "hey," he greets, breathless from the speed at which he hurried over to the tower

- "tony said i need to start doing checkups on your suit every once and a while," you say, silently thanking your acting skills

- "oh," peter nods, "okay"

- he follows you down to the lab, mask still in hand and suit flush on his body

- you reach one of the large tables, stopping and sucking in a breath before giving him a slightly expectant look

- "i.." you hesitate, "i'm gonna need your..."

-"oh!" peter says with realization

- and then realization hit again

- "uh.. i don't have any other clothes..."

- your face burns bright red before you open your mouth again

- "okay um.. either you're gonna have to hide in the bathroom until i'm done or we try to do it with you still inside the suit... it's just that there'd be a lot of touching if you choose that.." you ebb off at the end of your sentence, chewing on the inside of your lip

- peter immediately gets flustered

- "uh, we can just.. try it... with the suit on........?"

- you nod, taking a nervous step towards him and beginning to mentally berate yourself for not entirely thinking this through

- peter takes a shaky inhale and accidentally takes in the scent of your perfume

- which makes him begin to freak out a little

- you lay a wary hand on him and peter swears he's going to faint

- the two of you had never touched and peter already had a bit too huge of a crush on you

- so this was a lot for him

- and his heightened senses didn't help

- you carefully (and very awkwardly) press the spider in the middle of his chest - peter starts silently praying you can't hear/feel his heartbeat

- the suit loosens and begins to slip off of his shoulders and you gasp slightly, furiously grabbing it and pulling it up

- "sorry," you smile sheepishly

- peter just half-smiles crookedly as he watches you refocus on the suit

- you give him a wary look before reaching in through the neck and wandering your hand towards the center of the suit

- your attempts to not touch him fail

- your hand brushes against his extremely toned stomach

- the breath catches in both of your throats

- yet you somehow continue, the two of you refusing to even dare to look at each other

- to your surprise, you find a wire out of place

- peter watches as your face scrunches up a lil in focus and melts just a little bit

- your fiddling doesn't get the problem fixed and out of frustration, you tug a little bit

- which causes the suit to slip off of his shoulders

- which causes peter's entire top half to become exposed, the only thing holding the suit up being your hands grasping the wires

- a blush spreads on your cheeks like wildfire as you look down to see the waistband of peter's underwear

- a small squeak involuntarily flies out of peter's mouth, making him mentally punch himself

- your flusteredness disappears when you focus your gaze slightly, seeing red and blue figures scattered across the boy's briefs

- a small laugh falls from your lips

- peter wants to run away

- your small laughter turns into a wheeze

- poor petey just stands there awkwardly

- "pete, are those..."

- you can barely breathe as you double over in laughter

- "are those spider-man underwear????"

- the slightest and weariest of smiles begins to creep on the boy's face

- "maybe..?" he says quietly, voice high

- "that's the best thing i've seen all day"

- eventually you focus again and fix his suit, the uncomfortable atmosphere getting replaced by the two of you joking around

- ever since that day the two of you would become a bit more touchy

- also almost forgot to mention that tony was watching the security camera that day and saw e v e r y t h i n g and loved it

- like peter would join you in watching movies after the two of you finished your work at hq

- you'd joke around by stacking your legs on top of each other and kicking each other

- your laughter literally made him so happy

- and you felt the same way about his

- one time you were watching a scary movie (peter intentionally made this happen so you would hopefully want to cuddle)

- a jump scare freaked you the FCK out and you immediately grabbed his hand - even though you cursed yourself, it made peter's day

- probably his whole month

- or life

- every time you got scared, you somehow gravitated closer to the boy, hands still laced together

- by the end of the movie you were curled into him, his arm around you and your head on his shoulder, legs hung over his

- and then the next day you two saw each other and literally pRETENDED THAT NOTHING HAD HAPPENED

- this made the avengers (who had caught onto y'alls chemistry very quickly) quite upset

- the group would tease you two so much kjvhgcjvkl it like wasn't even funny

- when peter discovered his AI (karen!! "hello?? hELLO????") (if you know the exact part i'm talking about i LOVE YOU)

- he immediately thought about you

- "wow, y/n really outdid herself”

- "yes, she did. also, she says hi." the AI responded

- "oh! uhh, i say hi back!"

- (pure angel)

- alright folks now i'm gonna get a little less detailed because i'm past 2000 words at this point and i think we can all tell that i got a bit carried away but let's keep going!

- essentially, the two of you just kept getting closer

- despite the two of you going to different schools, you still had fun lil study parties

- eventually you migrated from the tower and went to each others houses

- peter LOVES your room because it's literally you

- and same goes vice versa

- one day you were walking to the subway to get to the tower after school (beautiful fall afternoon, btw) and peter swung by and scooped you up

- you screamed a little at the beginning but then got used to it and and had fun and just kinda giggled in his ear the rest of the time

- peter began to worry a little as he swung through the city bc he was so enamored by your laughter all he wanted to do was stop on a roof and kiss you

- and then the idea sparked in his head that he could

- he panicked a little because you two were just buildings away from the tower

- and with one huge swing he landed the two of you on some random roof

- you slipped off of him, eyebrows furrowed as you looked around you

- "pete? this isn't the tow-"

- the boy ripped off his mask (which hurt his nose a little if he was being honest) and stepped towards you, quickly pressing his lips against yours and pulling away just as fast

- "holy shit, dude," you whisper after a moment, head spinning

- "holy shit?" he asks nervously

- "holy shit."

- you let out an ungodly snort and wheeze, smiles breaking on both of your faces and you let your head drop, pressing it into peter's chest

- you felt him laugh against you and you realized how happy you were (and lowkey hated how cliche it felt but it's fine)

- when you finally caught your air and pulled your head away, the two of you looked at each other with the most shit-eating, cliche, best-friends-turned-something-more smiles

- after a second, with the most boyish grin that made your heart melt, peter asked,

- "wanna make out?"

- "peter!" + + +

peter parker has my entire heart

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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olderthannetfic · 5 years ago

Photo

Fuck branding and consistency: For my precious Miami Vice, we’re going full 80s!

Miami Vice is a cop show from the 80s that helped usher in an era of neo noir and radically altered how television is cut and scored. It is both an ensemble crime show and a buddy cop show. The central duo are Sonny Crockett (Don Johnson, center) and Ricardo Tubbs (Philip Michael Thomas, on the left). They start out pointing guns at each other and end up best friends... with a detour through amnesia and attempted murder along the way.

Their boss, Martin Castillo, is played by Edward James Olmos, who has had the exact same death glare for his entire career as you can see above. Rounding out the main ensemble were two comic relief guys, Switek and Zito, and two women, Trudy Joplin and Gina Calabrese.

Yes, they’re super hot, and I ship them too, along with the very obvious Crockett/Tubbs, but that is... not what the fandom shipped. More on that later.

MV had only a medium size fanfic fandom. As a source of annoying middle aged men who own that speedboat and still don’t wear socks, however, it is unparalleled. It was a mega-hit in its day but is largely ignored now.

As far as I can tell, the height of the slash fandom was just after the show ended, around the time Escapade was getting going. It was something that was in the air (hah) at the time but not popular enough to make it onto the program much. There were a scattering of vids and panels in that era, including:

1992 - Miami Vice (cops and music, right, well, maybe there's a little more here...)

Indeed there was, but you won’t find that out from most people! The cultural osmosis version of this show is deeply offensive to me, far worse than “womanizer Kirk” and its ilk.

I. How I got into the fandom

Miami Vice is a brilliant show, so far ahead of its time that it instantly dated itself and has been a subject of constant mockery by people who only know it vaguely from cultural osmosis during the 90s. Its revolutionary editing is what inspired me to go back to film school. Its cinematography is equally iconic. The soundtrack literally changed television forever. And no, children, synthesizer is not automatically a bad or cheesy instrument. Jesus.

I got into MV in 2010. I’d been reading about it in the first Film Noir Reader and had been intrigued by the black and white stills. I looked it up and found that it was a rare DVD release that secured all of the music rights, unlike the butchery of Wiseguy and too many other shows. I bought it on the spot.

It was a religious experience.

By 2010, even the little Yahoo Groups fandom it had eventually grown was long gone. The zine fandom certainly was. I started buying all of the used zines I could get my hands on. One thing stood out to me over and over: Rico, my favorite character, does have great fic, but it’s all gen and het. The slash zines treated him with absolute contempt. The only fan from the 90s slash fandom who had any clue how to write him was @flamingoslim.

So I did what any fan would do: I got into her current fandom, Starsky & Hutch, and stalked her to her S&H con.

What?

II. Why didn’t fandom love Rico?

So why were the slash zines like that? Yes, okay, the answer is racism.

But the more zines I read and the more oldschool fans I’ve talked to, the more apparent it is that the way it played out is specific and interesting, not some generic “he’s not hot” thing. The big problem was that the slash zines came from a tiny handful of publishers, with the more popular ones coming from a single publisher. Looking at their editorials in the front of volumes, I see cartoons of the two of them dressed as their ship, Crockett/Castillo. I’m getting full on otherkin vibes from how they talk about that ship.

This was very clearly a case of hating the other man who got in the way of the OTP. Even so, the particular way Rico was written in many of the stories in those zines is incredibly racist. Flamingo writes him as a supportive best friend to Crockett. This was... not the norm.

This wouldn’t be such a big problem except that this was not an era when you just go on AO3 or even FFN and post whatever you want. Getting a zine together is hard. It takes money. It means finding a printer that is willing to print gay shit--something that can still be an issue in 2020. It means having a job and a lifestyle where being outed as a publisher of gay shit will not fuck you over. They were the only game in town, and their bad takes ruled the fandom.

Contrast to the gen/het zines: Rico wasn’t specifically more popular than other characters, but he wasn’t in the way of somebody’s OTP, so he shows up pretty often as a major character, written similarly to how he is in canon.

The gen/het zines are also just plain well written, making all of the characters more nuanced and interesting than in a lot of the slash fic. That’s what happens when you’re dealing with tiny fandoms and tiny numbers of writers: one or two great talents shape the whole feeling.

The other answer to why people weren’t super into Rico is simple: Castillo.

MV is a show full of buddy duos. And then there is the boss, a mysterious lone wolf whose identity only goes back a handful of years. He is aggressively moral and incorruptible, yet also executes a counter-revolutionary in cold blood rather than let the CIA take him back to South America to continue his reign of terror.

What, you think Castillo isn’t a murderer?

Hate to break it to you, but not only is he, but Rico is the one who found out and never reported him. It’s one of the most interesting moments between them.

I’m not surprised fandom wanted to ship Castillo with someone. I just wish people hadn’t only ever reached for Crockett/Castillo when Castillo/Tubbs has just as much great material. But if I get started on my ship manifesto for that, we’ll be here all day!

Suffice it to say that MV suffers from what lots of old fandoms do: people only rewatch certain parts, and it’s hard to remember which bits are fanon.

I’ve heard people say that Rico didn’t seem like he really cared about Sonny on the same level that the oldschool slash juggernauts did. I think this is a combo of not rewatching the episodes more heavily focused on him and of fandom liking a particular kind of woobie/enabler ship. Rico usually caved in the end, but he set boundaries in a way some of these ships never did. He was also portrayed with a particular kind of bragging confidence that is way more common in black characters. I think it reads wrong to some people, though in fact, he’s just as much of a ride-or-die bestie as the usual slash duos from back in the day.

The same thing happens with a lot of specific moments fic does heavily reference. Many significant Crockett/Castillo moments involve Crockett being the only one who can get through to Castillo, yet in those actual scenes, it’s Tubbs who does or it’s both Crockett and Tubbs.

Yes, friends who I will be seeing at Escapade, even that scene and also that one. You are just flat out wrong.

III. The Fanworks

First, my eternal rec. It’s het with an OFC. No, no, come back! MV was one of those fandoms where this was sometimes the best fic, and all the more so since the ship is with Castillo, he of the mysterious past and not enough personal connections.

Dark Side of the Moon by @dejlah

I also really love Temper of Revenge by Mary Van Deusen. It’s one of three she did to the same song and it’s about the dark, dark ending for the comedy relief duo. If you’ve heard Francesca Coppa talk about vidding history, you’ll have heard of this vid. (No, we’re still not the same person.)

youtube

I’m also a big fan of MVD’s Crockett/Castillo vid, Ready for the Times. It manages to perfectly capture the dominant fanon take on the ship. I can’t even put into words exactly why, but it brought back all that fic powerfully.

youtube

This fan-made trailer does a good job of showing the kinds of twisty episodes he got:

youtube

My first vid I ever sent to Vividcon was a Gina/Trudy one that gives a good sense of the awesome costumes and also how often they had to go undercover as hookers. (AO3)

youtube

And finally, for those of you who don’t want to watch five whole seasons of 80s TV, I vidded that arc. (AO3)

youtube

Wow, this is only like 15 screens. Practically a haiku when it comes to me talking about Miami Vice!

#escapade 2020 #escapade con #fandom history #fandom meta #miami vice

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jocazep · 5 years ago

Text

In the Whole Wide Train | Chapter 8

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (Jo, OFC), slight Edgar x Reader

Warnings: Major spoilers for SNOWPIERCER, dystopian society and its countless problems, mentions of forced abortions, language, violence, deaths, slow burn, eventual smut

Synopsis: Having grown up in the Front Sections of the Snowpiercer, you venture down the train when a rare opportunity presents itself, but the excursion quickly changes flavor when you arrive in the Tail Section.

Taglist: Now closed

Series Masterlist

Chapter Eight - Catching Fire

The sight of the black soldiers, for lack of a better word, stunned the revolters into a eerie silence.

Before you could react, Curtis pulled you and Yuna behind him, his hand finding yours and clutching it. He could hear his own heart beating. Not only that, he could hear your heart beating as he stepped in front of you.

You looked back, and the revolters were all tense like never before. Everyone had the same look in their eyes. A look of fear, excitement, staring into the unknown.

This is it. This is the big one. This is where some of you die.

“Jo, take Yuna.” Curtis turned to you, whispering urgently as the soldiers lined up.

“Let me help, I can fight--” you started to say, but there was no arguing with Curtis. He cupped your face with his free hand, and stopped your protest with a quick but deep kiss, a soldier-going-off-to-war kind of kiss.

“Take care of Yuna and Tanya for me.”

“Just ’til you’re done with this. Then they’re your responsibility again.”

“Deal.” Curtis gave your hand another squeeze before he let you go.

You took Yuna and led her to the back, pushing past revolter men assembling around Curtis.

You came across Edgar, who probably saw your kiss with Curtis, and was now probably fidgeting in his boots out of fear. But he put on a weak smile at you, and said, “It’s all right, Jo. It’s all right.”

No it won’t be, you thought. But you force yourself to nod and went on.

Behind you, Edgar joined Curtis at the head of the revolters, and they started walking up towards the black soldiers. The sunshine came in through the windows, even stronger than Curtis remembered as it bounced off from the snow outside.

One soldier passed up a fresh tail of fish to the leader, who pierced it with his hatchet. The stark red blood dripped down from the fish, tainting the cold metal.

Curtis and Edgar watched this bizarre ritual, half marveling at the fish--which they hadn’t seen in almost 18 years, half preparing themselves for the battle up ahead.

“Be careful.“ Curtis said to Edgar, his eyes never breaking from the leader of the soldiers.

“Yeah, you too.” Edgar answered back.

In the back of the Protein Section, you stood on the steps of the cauldron ladder and watched the fish being passed down the seemingly endless rows of soldiers.

“What’s happening?” Gilliam asked from beneath you.

There were no words to describe the palpable tension on both sides. “It’s starting” was all you could say.

No sooner had you said the words than the two sides finally clashed. The disorienting yells from men, the sickening sound of metal cutting through flesh, the deadly thud of bodies falling onto the floor flooded the space.

You strained to pick out Curtis and Edgar in the writhing mass of blood and violence, watching as Curtis cut through soldier after soldier, splattering blood on the windows as he pushed forward. The sound of chaos faded away, and all you could see was Curtis. Your stomach turning each time he came across a foe, your breath returning each time he overcame one.

Curtis was also lost in the rhythm of violence, his early days of chaos returning to him, when all of a sudden--he stepped on the sacrificial fish, and fell on his back.

An axe came crashing down, and in that split second, his entire life threatened to flash in front of his eyes. His 17 fuzzy years on Earth, his 17 hellish years on the train. But then your voice and Edgar’s broke through the mist: “Just ’til you’re done with this...”, “Yeah, you too...”

And Curtis jolted into action--he rolled onto his side as the axe hissed on its way down, narrowly missed the back of his neck. Before he could get back up, Edgar came crashing into the assailant, knocking the latter on the ground. Curtis lost no time--thwack, thwack--he buried the hatchet into the soldier twice as red hot blood sputtered into his face. No time to process. He pushed on with Edgar.

“We’re pushing forward.” You shouted down to Gilliam and Grey, when all of a sudden--

A blaring horn resonated across the two sections. You saw three train conductors beyond all the onslaught.

“Upcoming, Yekaterina Bridge!”

Here comes. Yekaterina Bridge, and the long tunnel afterwards. They need a torch. You clambered off the steps, and found Namgoong, pushing past the men, pulling Yuna behind him.

“Namgoong, I need your matches.“ You said in your broken Korean.

"What?” Namgoong kept moving. The revolters had made decent progress along the section, so you quickly found yourself crossing the threshold.

You grabbed Yuna’s arm and yanked, forcing Namgoong to stop. “Matches, now.”

Whatever he was trying to do, he must be in a hurry. As you forced him into an impasse, the soldiers were counting down from 10 to welcome the “new year“. And you could see the anxiety mounting in Namgoong’s eyes with each number counted.

“Fine, take it.” He chucked you the matchbook, and threw in a few other Korean words along--which you were sure were quite advanced expletives.

You let go of Yuna, and turned back towards the Protein Section. Behind you, you could hear the soldiers chanting “Happy New Year”.

“Grey!” you yelled, “Catch!”

The book of matches flew through the air as Grey ran up, and closed his fingers around it. He looked up at you, somewhat perplexed.

“Get a stick, wrap some cloth around it--”

“IMPAAAAAAAACT!”

The snowpiercer rammed through an ice block on the railroad. The momentum sent you flying forward, right into the heart of the fight.

But nobody was concerned about fighting anymore. Breaths were held, eyes were closed as everyone crouched low and prayed for the train to stay on the rails. Well, everyone except Namgoong and Yuna.

As you recovered from your fall, you saw the father and daughter stumbling towards a window, pressing their foreheads against the glass, looking for something below the mind-bogglingly high bridge.

Up front, Edgar also noticed. “Hey, Nam, what are you doing man! What are you doing! He’s high as a fucking kite.”

You looked towards the sound, and found Curtis and Edgar. They were seated close to the soldiers that moments ago were fighting them, but now all were hanging on for dear life.

You took this in, your father’s words resonating in your head again. What did he call it? The last sanctuary of humanity.

At that moment, it felt like one. However twisted, however artificially controlled, however problematic. This train was keeping everyone on it alive. If the train falls, everybody falls, front-sections, tail-sections, revolters, soldiers, even the great Wilford.

Two more gut-wrenching ice blockades later, the train finally roared onto solid ground again, as the conductor announced through his megaphone, “Safe passage!”

And just like that, the fighting resumed. Curtis grabbed a hatchet lying nearby, and parried a blow from the soldier sitting next to him. You followed suit as more men got to their feet, picking up a small axe to defend yourself.

That’s when you heard it. A voice you didn’t know you had missed.

“Happy Yekaterina Bridge, you filthy ingrates.”

It was Mason.

Curtis had heard all of Mason’s platitudes before, and had learned how to block them out. But this time, Mason said something else, something he’d never heard before, something that rocked him to his core.

“Precisely 78.4% of you shall die.”

What did it mean? Of course he understood the words literally, and the sheer arrogance behind it. But why would Mason say this? Why 78.4%? That sounded like an awfully calculated number, didn’t it?

Curtis felt his rage bubbling up as his mind raced with the horrible underlying truth behind Mason’s words, and without really understanding what he was doing, he raised the hatchet in his hand and threw it at Mason--

Clang! The Icing hammer stopped the hatchet from ever coming close to Mason--and holding the hammer was Franco Sr. accompanied by his younger brother Franco Jr. as usual.

You took your eyes from Curtis and Mason to outside the window--the tunnel should be coming up. One by one, the lights above your head started switching off, like a foreboding countdown of sorts. Then came the rustling sound of the black soldiers putting on night vision head gears. You start retreated towards the Protein Block section--

“Grey! How’s the torch coming?!”

You ran back into the dimly lit section, almost stumbling over Tanya as your eyes taking a moment to adjust. Curtis’s voice came from up ahead as darkness devoured the fighting section, “Everybody back!“

There were already a couple of impromptu torches made, as Grey and Tanya struggled to make more.

“Gimme one and light it.“ You couldn’t afford to waste time. Every second spent in the dark meant more revolters dying. With fidgeting hands you took up a torch, and Tanya struck the last remaining match in Namgoong’s matchbook.

For a moment the life and death of the revolt hung on a small metallic match. “Please catch, please catch, please catch...” you prayed with shallow breaths.

And then--the warmth of a burning flame engulfed you. Grey lost no time, grafting the fire to his torch and running into the darkness.

“Everyone grab a torch and light it with mine!” You held up your torch by the gate connecting the two sections, lighting each torch as revolters came running through one by one.

Before long, the section was lit a bright orange with the torches. And the revolters fought back. You ran into the section as well, looking for Namgoong and Yuna to make sure they were safe.

You found Yuna huddled in a nook, the metal panel originally concealing her knocked askew during the fight.

“Stay here, it’ll be all right.“ You tried to comfort her amidst the blood-curdling screams, and placed the panel back. It was only when you stood back up that you realized Franco Jr. had been watching you. Your hand tightened around the wooden handles of the torch.

A flicker of recognition showed on Franco Jr.’s face. As you pondered whether to fight him, another soldier came charging towards you, and Franco Jr. pushed you out of the way, and decked the soldier across the face.

Losing your balance, you staggered and fell on top of the slowly building pile of bodies. As Franco Jr. walked towards you, he extended a hand--

Wham! Edgar landed a slash across the back of Franco Jr. “You get off of her!“

“No!” was all you could get out before Franco Jr. made quick work of Edgar and had him in a chokehold, holding a long knife close to Edgar’s ribcage.

Up front, Curtis fought on, and with Grey coming to his aid, was quickly gaining the upper hand. Grey took the train conductor hostage, but Mason was unmoved. So he was the first of the front-sectioners to die. Then Grey took on Franco Sr. and when Mason tried to run, he managed to throw a blade at her, piercing her right leg.

Curtis was just about to hunt her down when he heard someone calling his name--

He turned to see you lying at the feet of Franco Jr., Edgar held in a chokehold.

He looked back at Mason--a female conductor was helping her limp towards the gate to the Water Section.

He looked back at you one more time. Franco Jr. yelled across the room, “Surrender!” Curtis couldn’t hear it, but he got the message loud and clear.

He had to choose. The life of his best friend. Or the biggest bargaining chip for the revolt.

He never thought it would be him making this choice. He never thought he would be making any choice. He was no leader. But nevertheless, here he was.

Your heart broke for him as you watched Curtis close his eyes, forming a determination. And your heart broke again for Edgar as he watched Curtis turn and give chase after Mason, as he made his own decision in turn and fought back against Franco Jr.

You tried to stop the suited mobster, pushing and pulling at him, but he shoved you off your feet, and foregoing whatever courtesy he had before, held you down with his foot on your chest. Brandishing his blade, he grabbed Edgar’s throat, turning him towards you.

The moment was scorched into your memory. Edgar held at knife point, you thrashing beneath Franco Jr.’s step. As your eyes met his fear-stricken eyes, you mouthed to Edgar the same words as before.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.”

The moment lasted a lifetime, and then your eyes blinked as the cold glint of metal flashed, and your cry was drowned in the sea of violence.

Taglist: @torntaltos @emmalbg @ajosieface

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett fanfic #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #Snowpiercer #snowpiercer fanfic

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