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davestriderascend · 9 months

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the homestuck reread, pt 5

ive apparently finished what the map is deeming "part 3", and there are starting to be. a lot of subacts. and i am having a hard time remembering them all. and the map doesnt mark the subacts. so im just going to recap up to the end of part 3 now, before the act 6 act 6 nonsense sets in in full.

heres the previous recap if you missed it (meenahbound), and heres the first one if youre new.

Act 6 Act 4

this is the subact where the alpha kids enter their session! we are introduced to their planets, given a little glimpse of what theyve been up to, and their imprisoned jack noir gives us a wonderful little tally showing us exactly how much time has passed between their entry and when their adventure next picks up (153 days, with their adventure starting 11/11, and ending 4/13, so like five months). its super short and like nothing happens. moving on

Act 6 Intermission 4

breaking slightly from the previous pattern of a6 intermissions checking up on literally everything non-alpha kid related happening, this entire intermission is devoted to caliborns brand new session as he argues with hussie, shoots gamzee a lot, and is generally a tool.

The Characters

its in this act that hussie talks to caliborn about the consequences of him killing callie. basically, in killing her, hes stunted his own growth so that he will never reach his full potential as an adult, bc he didnt dominate in the traditional way. this is probably why lord english isnt shown with wings, the way other adult cherubs are. they also talk a lot about how this has impacted caliborns session and made it unique, (and they continue to talk about this in all of caliborns intermissions,) but im not gonna get into that here. caliborn is kind of implied in this act to have some kind of learning disability? which is. hm. its not framed great im gonna be real.

hes still a tool, hes still creepy, he shoots gamzee a lot and theres a whole elevatorstuck bit in this act that made me laugh really hard, but otherwise theres nothing else to say here.

Act 6 Act 5 Act 1

this is where we start getting into the sub sub acts. this is also where 99% of the alpha kids session stuff happens. everything with the alpha kid sprites is here, the jake, dirk, and jane mess, The hal and dirk conversation, and roxy briefly getting jailed by condy and discovering the void ring. this is also where calliope is first revealed hiding in the furthest ring. a6a5a1 is actually split into two separate parts, so im just talking about the first part here (yeah, i know).

The Plot

the jake, dirk, and jane mess is infamous. its hard to believe that all of that drama literally just happens in this one fucking act. even more so, its all contained more or less in three fucking pesterlogs. fr. people have so many opinions on this shit, i am just literally going to copypaste the relevant logs, even! youre welcome!

this is the majority of the really potent stuff. the way it reads to me, jake and dirk started dating when they entered the medium, and have been dating for the past five months, until jake suddenly stopped talking to dirk and dipped. jane mentions that jake has complained about dirk to her more and more over the past few months, and asked her less and less about how she was doing, so shes basically stopped contacting him altogether. dirks role in this act is virtually nonexistent, so we dont get any idea of how hes feeling about this until his conversation with hal, wherein he blames hal for scaring jake off w hals machinations in getting them into the medium, and hal says that blaming him is just a way of dirk trying to cope with the fact that he blames himself.

the reality is the alpha kids session gets very little screentime. we have no idea what really happened during those five months, and we never get to know. but it is worth noting that these kids are extremely isolated, and this is also dirk and jakes very first relationship ever. its going to be very new, very confusing, and there is also a lot at stake if they break up and dont stay friends, especially if it ripples out to the larger friendgroup. im sure all of that has a huge impact on the way they handle things and the way it explodes at the end.

personally, i find the parallel between jake and jane to be the most interesting thing here. while jake repeatedly checks in with jane to make sure hes not driving her nuts, and dirk checks in with jake to ask if he needs space, both jake and jane, instead of communicating their problems, refuse to say anythign about them. they avoid the issue and let it fester, pulling back from the relationships until they both have a lot of resentment for the other party. in both cases, that resentment explodes- with jake going no contact with dirk, and jane blowing up at jake. theyre really bad communicators, honestly.

The Characters

when i talked about roxy in a6a2, i was pretty harsh, and i said all of that keeping in mind that iw ould be revisiting her here. in a6a5a1, roxy gets sober. and when she is sober, she is so kind, and thoughtful, and strong, with a great love for her friends and a deep fear that she isnt worthy of them. she has a close relationship with fefeta, and its through her talking about fefeta that we actually learn about fefeta, given that feferi, nepeta, and fefeta never speak from the moment of fefetas introduction. she admires her mom, and is so excited and nervous to meet her in person, and her mom is actually the reason she decides to give up alcohol! she wanted to be a person her mom could be proud of. i just. i love roxy so much she really is the best shes so kind to all of her friends and sweet w callie and shes also so fucking funny and i just. love her.

dirk continues his pattern of not being there much, mostly. his big moment in this act is his conversation with hal. apparently, he has literally not prototyped his sprite this entire fucking time bc he promised hal hed prototype him but doesnt want to and theyve been arguing about it nonstop for five months. insane shit. he had to bribe gamzee to keep gamzee from dumping random shit in, and he prototypes hal on the day that stops working. anyway, the conversation that takes place between him and hal in this act is one of my favorite moments in all of homestuck, its just so cool and theres really nothing else to say about it. if you havent seen this animation of their conversation you should bc its iconic

jake is... kind of a terrible friend, in this act. just objectively. the reality is, jake REALLY struggles with social cues and shit. hes just fucking terrible with people. he has no idea when jane is uncomfortable, no matter how obvious jane makes it, he has no balls when it comes to communicating with dirk, he makes all of his conversations with jane and erisol about himself (and kind of roxy, too??), and just. jesus christ. everything about his relationship with erisol actually is really really bad. its like what some people THINK john and davesprites relationship is like. idk thats like 99% of my takeaway from this act and i genuinely love him but this isnt a strong act for him

there are things to be said about jane, but i think ill hold off for a bit.

fefetasprite, as ive already mentioned, we pretty much exclusively hear about through roxys reencounters of who she is. she likes to gossip, and shes given roxy a ton of advice. apparently, in one on one conversations, shes a hell of a chatter box, btu seems to clam up in public for some reason. hussies always had kind of a running joke in the formsprings and whatnot about "a million worthless dead nepetas" and how, in the grand scheme of things, most of the characters introduced in hivebent arent important and will never be important, and it just kind of feels like fefeta not talking is an extension of that.

arquius is arrogant, and leans even harder into brodude type language than dirk and hal. hes casual, but full of himself and commanding, fully enthused to the max about both equius and hals interests (which have a decent amount of overlap anyway). he defers to dirk, commands dirk, and commands dirk to command him in equal and contradicting measure. hes really pumped about having a physical form, and even more pumped that that form is so RIIIIIIPPED, and believes that he is a sort of ultimate lifeform as a combination of machine and man. they experience a level of cohesion we dont see from the other doublesprites like tavris and erisol, and the only real instance where they seem to disagree is due to hals horror over equius's classism and behavior towards nepeta. arquius's name, interestingly, seems to imply that the name "hal" was in fact a joke all along, and that hal- or ar, i should say- does really consider ar to be his name. anyway, the bottom line is that arquius is fucking hilarious.

erisolsprite, like tavris, is made of two trolls that dont get along. however, eridan loves to bitch and moan, and sollux is ridiculously apathetic all the time, so hes continued to exist regardless. he hates everything, he complains almost constantly, he seems to enjoy complaining constantly, hes apathetic about jake and whatever the alpha kids are up to, but enjoys being a btich about it just enough to give jake a daily double bird. jake is a huge asshole to him and doesnt take him seriously at all, and despite that he still deigns to give jake advice sometimes?? erisol is hilarious tho and hes such a fun quirky chara and i love him a lot

Act 6 Act 5 Act 2

the trickster act. all things trickster happen right here. alllll of the things. dirk breaks up with jake, both arquius and erisol try to apologize to fefeta, and fefeta spritesplodes. they all get hella drunk and eventually crash sometime later on their sacrificial slabs.

The Plot

trickstermode is a fucking nightmare and i kind of hate it and i really hate everything its spawned in the fandom. did you know the tricksters dont have any kind of candy theme at all? i didnt. i fucking forgot. bc fandom. fucking anything seems to turn ppl trickster, also, and not just nonconsensual makeouts. jane kicks jake in the crotch. roxy gets a pumpkin smashed over her head. how did fanon fall so far

Act 6 Act 5 Act 1 Pt 2

after they crash, we return right back to act 1, swearing that well never speak of a6a5a2 again. there are a lot of big important conversations that happen here between the alpha kids. their sessions jack becomes jack english and hic becomes more aggressive in her takeover, and the insuing chaos causes the kids to go godtier, with the act ending with jane going crockertier and jade going grimbark.

The Characters

roxy talks a lot about her fears and insecurities in this act. its one of the strongest acts for her, honestly, and a lot of what makes me really love her so much.

like me, dirk also spends a lot of time in this act talking about how fucking much he loves roxy. roxy is TERRIFIED shes let him down, but all he can talk about is how much he adores and admires her, and how she means the whole world to him. he admits that he doesnt think he could ever kill her, for any reason, and looking back at previous acts we see a lot of examples of dirk risking everything to keep her safe over and over again. their relationship is so fucking important to me you dont even understand

i said id talk about jane later, and later is now. this act feels like a really good resolution for her re: jake. she and dirk FINALLY cut the shit and talk through their problems, and honestly, theyre REALLY good friends and their relationship is really sweet. unlike jake, who doesnt seem to have the balls to speak to anybody but roxy (hes dealing with a lot of self realizations rn, tbf to him), jane reaches out to roxy and dirk to talk through her problems and theirs, solidifying her friendships with both of them in a way thats really touching. jane, at her worst, can be stubborn and avoidant, choosing to let resentment fester over causing conflict or distance her friends to avoid harsh truths. but at her best, shes bold and clever, and a hard worker, willing to put in the effort to make things right.

Act 6 Intermission 5

this is where i started losing track of sub shit. intermission 5 follows the usual pattern of intermissions, with a check in on where the meteor and ship players are at as their journey comes to an end. it also follows the dreambubble players and their adventure, and what spades is up to. its during this intermission that the album cherubim is released, and act 6 officially passes act 5 in length.

however, the thing about this intermission is that its frequently interrupted by intermission intermissions featuring caliborns session, updating us on where hes at. so in keeping with that, ill summarize this intermission while also randomly interjecting with caliborns intermissions.

The Plot

the act opens on the meteor, with karkat planning an intervention for terezi with dave. while karkat is getting steadily more worried about terezi, as her mental health obviously begins to decline in tandem with her relationship with gamzee, dave is growing steadily more worried about rose, who spends a lot of her time drunk these days, which is negatively impacting her relationship with kanaya.

Act 6 Intermission 5 Intermission 1

caliborn has begun his session properly and is working on conquering planets. each planet is knocked into a black hole in order, billiards style, and after completing each other he gets a new leprechaun.

the battleship has landed on jakes planet. davesprite tries unsuccessfully to wake a sleeping john, and then monologues for a while about his experience on the battleship and how much he hates himself, before just fucking off and leaving

Act 6 Intermission 5 Intermission 2

caliborn has unlocked more planets. he thinks the leprechauns are annoying and their powers are lame.

at this part of a6i5, john meets up with vriska, meenah, and aranea, who have teamed up and put all of their plans together. right now, theyre searching for vriskas treasure, and vriskas put a little pirate crew together, which eventually includes feferi and nepeta post fefetasplosion. aranea tells a long story about calliope and caliborns parents.

Interfishin

meenah has to pee, and the pirate crew plays elevatorstuck

aranea continues her story and talks a lot about cherub biology. we see that gamzee had a role in raising the cherubs. aranea goes on to talk about caliborns dead session, and how he got to the point of conquering planets like we saw earlier, and the deal he made with his denizen. aranea talks a lot about leprechauns and charms.

meanwhile back at the ranch, dave and karkat are now talking to terezi about her relationship to gamzee, her guilt over vriska, her insecurity, and her newfound sight and regret over it. dave wins karkat tantrum bingo.

Act 6 Intermission 5 Intermission 3

caliborn and hussie discuss crowbars usefulness and caliborns eighth planet. clover hits on caliborn.

the pirate crew is almost to the treasure. john questions vriskas sanity and morality, while aranea tells a story about the rings of void and life. most of the pirate crew decide theyre sick of vriska being an asshole and dip, and vriska gives a long speech justifying her actions that has lived in my brain rent free ever since i read it for the very first time in 2015. i love her so much.

on the meteor, rose and kanaya get in a fight about roses alcoholism and the way shes continuously let the people around her down as a result.

Act 6 Intermission 5 Intermission 4

the leprechauns are all flirting with each other a lot.

meenah has a bit of a breakdown about how much she loves her friends and her life in the bubbles and how she doesnt actually really want to follow in the footsteps of hic. they find the treasure, before the story cuts suddenly to the adventures of viceroy bubbles von salamancer, which is 10/10 adorable and hilarious. the treasure is revealed to be the house symbol, and john sticks his arm in it, getting his teleporty canon fuckery powers.

Act 6 intermission 5 Intermission 5

caliborn complains about the leprechauns and hussie complains about vriska.

spades takes over the felt as their new leader, stuffs them all in an oven, and winds up in the furthest ring with a growing cast of characters (dirk, jack english, and eventually bec noir and pm). john keeps jumping around the canon and seems to love con air again

Act 6 Intermission 5 Intermission 6

caliborn is on his last planet and has come up w a plan to use his sessions jack to destroy the queen, planning to dispose of jack afterward. hussie isnt responding to his messages anymore, which pisses him off.

john flashes to caliborns location and gets punched into the present, on lomax by the landed battleship. while the kids on the meteor debate how to get off the meteor safely, grimbark jade appears and teleports them all onto lomax where john is. and thats the end!!!

The Characters

i really dont have anything to say here. ill probably talk about vriska and meenahs character development whenever they start dating. its heavily implied in this act that aranea has taught vriska the value of storytelling, while vriskas manipulative behavior has rubbed off on aranea, but ill also probably talk about that later.

The Album

cherubim is a themed album that centers around calliope and caliborn (obviously), and reminds me a little of prospit & derse in that the songs are presented in pairs, with opposing takes on the same general theme. red sucker is probably my favorite on the album, it goes hard as hell. i wasnt expecting to enjoy the album as much as i did! its great

Final Thoughts

with this so finishes "part three" whatever the fuck that even is within the vast context of homestuck. act 6 act 6, i remember well, is its own kind of monster with a gazillion subacts and shit, so i think it just makes sense to hold off on talking about that until another post. maybe my next one will be after the retcon? stuffs really picking up, and characters are getting a lot more fleshed out, so its a lot of fun to read rn. if like, so long.

EDIT: I COMPLETELY FORGOT but at SOME POINT during all of this the tumblr stoppedupdating. i dont fucking know when. anything i had to say about it i already said in the last post tho tbh. its fine. its nice. infinitely better than the formspring

edit: a6a6-the end of hs proper

#hs reread #recaps #homestuck liveblog

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issela-santina · 2 years

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“[what I write about actors] is false because I write about them with steadfast love” stepped on my chest with Franz Kafka's entire body weight

for context, entire journal entry below via Franz_K_Diaries on Twitter:

23 October. The actors by their presence always convince me to my horror that most of what Ive written about them until now is false. It is false because I write about them with steadfast love (even now, while I write it down, this too becomes false) but varying ability, and this varying ability does not hit off the real actors loudly and correctly but loses itself dully in this love that will never be satisfied with the ability and therefore thinks it is protecting the actors by preventing this ability from exercising itself. Quarrel between Tschissik and Lowy. Ts.: Edelstatt is the greatest Jewish writer. He is sublime. Rosenfeld is of course also a great writer, but not the foremost. Lowy: Ts. is a socialist and because Edelstatt writes socialist poems, because he is editor of a Jewish socialist newspaper in London, therefore Ts. considers him the greatest. But who is Edelstatt, his party knows him, no one else, but the world knows Rosenfeld. - Ts.: It is not a question of recognition. Everything of Edelstatts is sublime. - L.: Of course, Im well acquainted with him too. The Selbstmorder, for example, is very good. - Ts.: Whats the use of arguing. We wont agree. Ill repeat my opinion until tomorrow and you the same. - L.: I until the day after tomorrow. Goldfaden, married, spendthrift, even if terribly badly off. About a hundred pieces. Stolen liturgical melodies made popular. The whole people sings them. The tailor at his work (is imitated), the maid, etc. With so little room for dressing you are bound, as Ts. says, to get into quarrels. You come off the stage excited, everyone considers himself the greatest actor, then if someone, for example, steps on someone elses foot, which can not be avoided, not only a quarrel but a good battle is ready to break out. But in Warsaw there were seventy-five small, individual dressing-rooms, each one with light. At six oclock I met the actors in their coffee-house seated around two tables, divided into the two hostile groups. A book by Peretz was on the table of the Ts. group. Lowy had just shut it and stood up to leave with me. Until the age of twenty Lowy was a bocher who studied and spent the money of his well-to-do father. There was a society of young people of the same age who met in a locked tavern precisely on Saturday and, dressed in their caftans, smoked and otherwise sinned against the Sabbath commandments. The great Adler from New York, the most famous Yiddish actor, who is a millionaire, for whom Gordin wrote Der Wilde Mensch and whom Lowy in Karlsbad had asked not to come to the performance because he didnt have the courage to act in his presence on their poorly equipped stage. - Real sets, not this miserable stage on which you can not move. How shall we play the wild man! You need a sofa for it. In the Crystal Palace in Leipzig it was magnificent. Windows you could open, the sun shone in, you needed a throne in the play, good, there was a throne, I walked towards it through the crowd and was really a king. It is much easier to act there.

#franz kafka

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bitterqueenofhearts · 3 years

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His World (I)

Warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

Sugar Daddy!Bucky AU x Reader - “a stranger at a party offers you more than the night”

WC: 2.3k

Note: Ahh I’m so happy to be writing again! It’s my first fic in years and I’m really excited about it. This is my entry for the Two Years of Darkness by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor !! I hope you enjoy reading it, please leave some feedback, likes and reblogs are super appreciated! (I intend to make this a 5 part fic)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

As you mindlessly played with the straw from your drink, you wondered once again about your reasons to come to this party. When you got the invitation, it sounded like a great idea. A blind date at a party that you didn't know who was throwing and at a popular club on the fancy side of town. You rarely visited that neighborhood, and its tall buildings and fancy restaurants. You lived five minutes away from the university, on the opposite side of town. There were certainly more fitting places you could be visiting on that Saturday night, like a bar with cheap drinks and desperate frat guys. Okay, it's not like you preferred the frat boys either.

Yet, there you were, at a stranger's party, in a fancy club you've never visited before, having a boring date with some boring guy - what was his name again? That was the only huge disappointment, he barely bothered to ask your name or make small talk before indulging in a monologue about his family business... and then you both fell in empty silence, and you just drank your way trying to fill it.

You couldn't recognize anyone around you. Most of them looked like old money. Ivy leagues, business majors, heirs. Fancy designer dresses and purses, watches, and golden monogram buttons. Where the hell have you gotten yourself into? With a glance over your shoulder to check on your date - who was scrolling through his phone and seemed to have forgotten about you at that point, - you immediately excused yourself to get another drink or whatever. Tired of wasting time and patience, you grabbed your purse and walked towards the bar.

When you stood up, you could finally feel the alcohol from the last couple of drinks kick in. The loud music, mixed with the colorful lights and all the drunkness in the air made you let out a sigh. It felt like a chance in a lifetime to be at a place like this, and you were tired of wasting your time. An hour had already passed by and you really could use some actual fun - even if it wasn't your kind of place or your kind of people.

Another drink down - a shot of tequila this time - and you decided you wanted to dance. A remix of a familiar song blasted through the speakers, and that was the first time you noticed a DJ was playing. You chuckled to yourself, letting your body move in the rhythm with the music. The alcohol made the lights and colors brighter and the whole experience more comfortable than if you were sober. You felt even prettier now in that little silver strap dress than you did before.

A little while later, you felt eyes on you. Well, it felt like someone was staring. You slowly stopped dancing and looked around, and that's when your eyes were captured by a strong gaze. Piercing blue eyes that were so captivating you wouldn't dare look away.

He was sitting at a booth with a couple of friends, but his attention was completely yours. The man wore a black suit and a matching glove on his left hand, which rested on the table. His face... even from that distance, you could easily yearn just by taking a look at his gorgeous features.

Being stared at like that made you feel like prey, a piece of meat. Which shouldn't exactly feel like the best thing in the world, but you couldn't explain the chills running up your spine. You swallowed hard, feeling both intimidated and turned on before he broke the connection looking away.

As he simply looked away and resumed the conversation with his peers, you were left confused. The man was so attractive, like a movie star or runway model attractive, and looked way older than you too. And honestly, given the type of people there, he could easily be one. You wouldn't mind having a little fun with that rich man if you got the chance.

But that was it... Just one look, nothing else. For all you knew, he could be judging you - for looking so out of place? All the confidence from before seemed to dissipate for a moment. You had turned on your heels, thinking about going to the bathroom before wrapping up the night. You could fantasize about him doing whatever he wanted with you when you got home...

"You shouldn't stare, doll. It's not polite." A firm voice warned from somewhere close behind you. The chills were back in a nanosecond. Turning back around, searching for the source of the voice, and your eyes met the black suit that accompanied those stern blue eyes that found you on the dancefloor a moment ago. He was too close, you thought, before taking a step back and looking directly at him again.

"I'm sorry, what?" You chuckled just a little, almost nervously. It could come off as if you were playing dumb, but you could swear that wasn't the case. It was just that being called "doll" was something odd, but strangely enough, you didn't dislike it entirely. Besides that, the handsome stranger was right there in front of you, which was one step closer to your little fantasy becoming reality. Fuck your date.

You took the opportunity to take a better look at him. His short, dark hair was so perfectly fitting to his face and stubble. He could be at least ten years older than you, just from that look on his face. The kind of look that's so expressive and carries so many stories and much more experience than you could imagine. He could be thinking "don't play with me" or "I'll make you hear it loud and clear" or whatever your hazy mind could come up with in a deviant scenario.

Did you have a daddy kink? You didn't think so. It was a common thing, right? Men that look older and think they can boss you around... It was fun to think of it. It made you wet at times.

Again, your thoughts caught your attention and you couldn't understand what the sex deity in front of you had just said. You almost answered with an innocent "sorry, I was fucking you in my dreams", but that thought only made you giggle.

"How drunk are you?" He asked again because apparently, you didn't hear it the first time.

"Just enough to get all bubbly." You answered, simply. "I'm (Y/N), by the way." You offered a hand for him to shake. Let's be honest with a stranger, why not? What was the worst thing that could happen? It's not like the night could get any worse, and having a good talk with that man could never be the worst-case scenario.

He took your hand with his right - this one didn't have a glove on -, carefully but firmly, and you smiled at the way he held it. "I'm James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky." He seemed to be eyeing you up and down as well. You couldn't tell if he was worried by your state - even though you were just fine - or admiring you. Either way, it felt good to be under his gaze. Even better than before, with the chills easing on you.

At the mention of friends, you looked for the other two men who were sitting in the booth with him before - they were nowhere to be found. "I don't know anyone in this place. It's annoying." You confessed.

"I know." He had half a smile dancing on his lips, as he was amused by whatever you had said. "I'd remember inviting such a pretty little thing to my party."

Your lips formed an "o" as you heard the last words. Pretty little thing. Damn... "Wait, so it's your party!" That was kinda impressive, judging by the high standards of the club.

"Yes. And how did you end up here, doll?" His brows furrowed with what seemed to be genuine concern. How embarrassing would it be if you mentioned the failed date? Especially keeping in mind you very much wanted to score that handsome James Barnes tonight, from the very first moment his eyes laid on your figure.

"It's not a very interesting story." That was true. "But I promise I didn't sneak in." Another chuckle, followed by a delicate bite to your lip. Your drunk self thought that could be a sexy move, and maybe it worked because you noticed his eyes locked with your lips for a moment.

"Fine. You won't get in trouble..." He said very seriously. "...if you accept to join me for a drink. I'm unexpectedly bored by everyone else here, and I'd enjoy your... company." The invite was pretty clear, and so were his intentions. Inside, you jumped and cheered and celebrated that this hot piece of sin seemed to be just as into you, as you were into him. Trying to bite back the smile that covered your lips, you just nodded and followed the man, as he didn't drop your hand for a second since he took it.

xxx

Even though all your body could think about was sex in a neon sign, you two had a good talk before getting into the dirty business. He was a fun person to be around, complimented you at every chance he got and had such a powerful presence... You couldn't get enough of his banter, of his laugh, of his smile. The night was infinitely better now, because of James. He felt like an old friend you could be completely open about anything... And the alcohol only helped the feeling.

Of course, by the way he talked and how he was dressed, you couldn't forget he was very rich - and it would feel kinda weird if he wasn't so good at making you feel like you belonged to it all. Like you were part of this world. And you've been honest from the start, you told him about your life, that you paid for your education and that you lived on your own in a small apartment by the university.

While James... Yes, there was old money involved. But he never wanted to follow the family business, so he started a new path... entertainment. So he built a nightclub, and that was his full-time job! You were impressed by his determination and how wealthy he actually was. He owned one of the highest-ranked clubs in the city. And that explained... "his" party.

At some point, he wrapped his left arm around your shoulder, and you remembered about the single glove. "What's with the glove?" You mindlessly asked, almost missing when he clenched the jaw at the question.

"I can show you later." The way he stopped smiling just to answer in that harsh tone... Something felt off as if you had offended him somehow. But it wasn't entirely harsh. You could easily interpret that as a warning about how the night would go on... Oh, you and your dirty mind going at it again.

"Y/N." He interrupted your thoughts with a serious call of your name, not moving his hands from you. Your attention was completely his, and you dared to delve into his gaze once again.

"Yes, Bucky?"

He caressed your chin with the gloved hand and licked his lips before continuing. "You're such a precious girl. I can tell you're a smart one, as well." You just nodded, enamored by his words. "I could give you one night, and fulfill our desires. We could make some memories and then never see each other again, but that feels wrong. It would be such a waste..."

As he continued, you frowned for a moment. Where was he going with this? His hands never left you, and his handsome face only kept getting closer to yours. Sitting on that booth, where you knew most of the people couldn't see the two of you, but you felt under a spotlight at that moment. "What do you..."

James didn't let you finish your thought. As he inched closer, you felt his cologne mixed with whisky. His lips captured yours, and you couldn't thank him enough for finally making it happen. The kiss was hungry, full of desire, and lacking patience. But he determined the pace and kept it all under his control. Before you realized it, it was already over. And you almost whined as he pulled away, but he stayed close, dragging his lips across your neck with small pecks, taking in your perfume as deep as he could.

Was he as intoxicated by you as you were by him? Because it certainly felt like it. "Bucky..." You whispered.

"I want to propose an arrangement." He interrupted you, his words barely above a whisper in your ear. "Be mine. I will take care of you, you can keep me company. I can give you the world. My world. And in return, you just need to give yourself to me.

Those words echoed in your thoughts like a wonderful dream. You smiled thinking about it, and the alcohol got the best of you. With a giggle, you nodded and said whatever he wanted to hear. Of course, you could surrender yourself to him. Anything he asked for.

"You won't regret it, doll." Those were the last words you remembered from the night.

Little did you know, you had agreed to something you could only have dreamed of. When the man had set eyes on you in that club, he decided he wanted you for himself. And you fell right into Bucky Barnes' trap.

xxx

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sugar daddy!bucky #sugar daddy au #twoyearsofdark #marzi writes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #marvel #winter soldier

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peachcitt · 3 years

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shadow and bone netflix series analysis

what up besties i said as a joke that i wanted to do an analysis post on the changes made in the s&b netflix series from the grishaverse books, and then i realized i wasn't joking and that i actually wanted to do that

it's finals season, i am an undergraduate english major, i have had about five hours of sleep within the past forty eight hours, and believe it or not i am doing this analysis as a fun reward for finishing a research paper. i am putting this out here for you so you can decide if these are the kinds of vibes you want right now.

structure of the analysis will be vaguely as follows:

changes made, in chronological order (or as best as chronology i can do under the circumstances and doing absolutely zero fact checking)

analysis of change when looking at the themes of the books which will include my personal feelings

personal theories (if any) derived from the change for the trajectory of the netflix series

so, like, long post warning. also spoiler warning for the netflix series as well as probably most, if not all, grishaverse books

now let's get this baby started

alina's appearance and shu heritage

so the series starts right off the bat acknowledging alina's shu appearance and the in-world racism and prejudice she's experienced because of it, which was not in the books. however i found alina's shu appearance to be completely in line with the book's themes. alina was already isolated at keramzin and the army because of her sickliness, and she's isolated at the little palace because of her power and her awkwardness. so purposefully making her shu was, i felt, a nice world-building decision as well as a new and interesting layer to her character. also, it's always nice to see diversity in media, so i have literally no qualms with this change

in terms of the rest of the series, the grishaverse is a very politically-motivated story. there's a lot of in-universe politics that happens in the shadow and bone trilogy and especially in the king of scars duology, and i think if the series chooses to extend into/include the king of scars duology story (which, i really hope it will), alina being shu (or at least part shu) will be very interesting to see considering king of scars and rule of wolves deal with negotiations and treaties with shu han. i think also having alina be shu and someone who has experienced countless amounts of in-world racism become a saint, seeing how she and the rest of ravka navigate her identity and identity politics will be really interesting. generally speaking, i just really hope the later parts of the series really delve into alina's identity, what it means to be a saint and also "look like the enemy," and the ravkan people's mixed feelings about her

alina's sickliness/childhood relationship with mal

in the books, alina is described as thin, always having trouble sleeping, hardly ever hungry, and sickly looking because, as we learn later, of her constantly unconsciously repressing her grisha abilities. this is part of the reason she's isolated at keramzin in the books; she's sickly and awkward and no one bothers with her except mal - because they're the same age and mal is strong enough to defend her from the older orphans at keramzin. however, the show doesn't really delve into the effects of what suppressing her abilities do to her except for a few offhand lines (alina angrily saying "im never that sick" when mal suggests she say she's stick to stop from going into the fold, mentions of her larger appetite when they're on the run in the woods). instead, the show kind of flips alina and mal's childhood personalities; mal is depicted as shy and easily picked on, and alina is the protector.

i'll just say it: this change fucks so hard. i love it. i think it says such wonderful things about their characters, and i like that alina begins the series as someone incapable of turning a blind eye to bullies and someone who cares very fiercely for the people she loves (not that that isn't the case in the books - i just think this change does a great job of looking directly at it in the way that shows have to). i think it's easy to root for her, and it's easy to see how she will become a saint to the people. in addition to that, i love what this is saying about alina and mal's characters and how they grow up; that separation from alina caused mal to have to face his own problems head on in traditionally masculine ways (because that was what ana kuya criticizes him in the show for; for always running from fights and being too soft, and i think it's really telling that our first view of mal as a kid, im pretty sure, is gingerly holding a bunny which portrays feminine caregiving and then we jump cut to mal fighting in a dirty boxing ring in the first army, something gritty and masculine). masculine ways that he had to be indoctrinated into and that may not actually be in his natural disposition.

meanwhile, separation from mal meant alina no longer had to be a dominant protector, and she does not connect with anyone in the first army as strongly as she connected with mal, so she doesn't really feel the need to be as aggressive as she was as a child. however, you can see that quiet protectiveness spark up at times - notably when people other than herself are picked on, such as at the food line when she claims not to know the others in the cartography unit so they don't get penalized along with her. i do wish, however, elements of her sickliness had been emphasized a little more in the show because of grisha theory, which i will talk about in another section.

first entry into the fold

okay i will be honest. this change is probably the one that scared me the most when seeing it in the trailers, and i am kind of still iffy on it now. in the books, alina's first journey into the fold and the inciting moment for the entire series is just luck and orders. everyone in the first army has to go through the fold at some point, and it just so happens to be alina and mal's time to go through. however, in the show alina is not initially assigned to go into the fold, but mal is, and alina goes out of her way to make sure that she gets on the skiff so that mal won't have to go alone/without her. there's this level of 'choice' (or at least the illusion of it) in the show in terms of alina and mal getting onto the skiff and going into the fold; at one point or the other they both try to tell the other not to get on the skiff and just choose something else.

the thing that irks me the most is alina's stubborn "i'll make it" line that she tells mal after she's on the skiff. it screams 'fantasy dystopian protagonist' (divergent is the first to come to mind for some reason) in a way that alina never comes across in the books. alina never chooses to make her life more difficult - she's always given two terrible options and has to take the option that fits with her morals or her perception of the power she needs to surivive and win the fight. but i know the only reason alina goes out of her way to get on the skiff is because she's separated from mal, which aligns nicely with the protective nature the show has inscribed on her.

the thing that redeems this change for me is that when alina tries to get just herself onto the skiff (by burning the maps to ensure that she has a purpose there), she ends up endangering the lives of her entire cartography unit. this keeps with the theme of a whole lot of alina's later decisions throughout the books affecting so many more people than just her, and i like that this is a lesson that she learns very early on. this change also seems to be a trade out for the final entering-the-fold scene, but i'll talk about that later.

alexei

here he is, the lynchpin himself. in the books, alexei is dry and rude in a funny way with alina, and they have this really great banter at the beginning of the novel, and then he's, like, the first to get carried off by volcra. very harrowing in the book, i loved it. in the show, alexei's character is a little (a lot) different - he's naive and blunt in a silly way, and he very obviously has a crush on alina. instead of being carried off by volcra in the show, though, he jumps off the skiff and runs blind into the fold - committing what we think at the time is an act of suicide - which was extremely harrowing to see in a completely different way, and i loved it. even if they changed alexei's personality i still love him (and his death) dearly

so as previously mentioned, alexei acts as the lynchpin between the six of crows plot and the shadow and bone plot; he manages to escape the fold alive, and makes it all the way to ketterdam to tell a select few people the legendary sun summoner is alive WHICH. okay ive just decided that's my next topic. anyway back to alexei.

his death in ketterdam is awful because of the personality change, which is why i don't mind missing bitchy alexei from the book; his hopeful little "if i tell you, you'll set me free?" that pulls at your heart and also tells you immediately that he is going to die as soon as he tells everyone what he say is done so well. i also like that through treatment of alexei, we get some characterization of the crows; inej immediately gives him water and glares at the mercher in quiet rage on his cruel treatment, kaz doesn't flinch when alexei is killed but inej and jesper do. i also thought it was interesting to have the mercher (dreeson was his name i believe) to be the one to get his hands 'dirty' and actually be the one to shoot alexei because in six of crows, there is always the sense that the merchers are cruel and conniving, but that they very carefully keep the death of the poor and the grisha off their own hands. im wondering if this hands-on killing is a dreeson-specific trait, or if this more hands-on cruelty will be explored more in other mercher characters we meet, like van eck.

sun summoner legend

this change is so?? i don't really know what to think of it. narratively, it makes sense in the show to have this legend be in place so that alina's importance is immediately recognized by people across the different countries.

however in the books, no one really expected alina. her presence wasn't foretold or divine (at first) or fate in any way. she became a saint because i think in part people weren't expecting her, and once they saw what she could do, they wanted to believe in her abilities so bad they made her divine. this change was also weird to me having just finished rule of wolves where zoya (i think) reflects on amazing things that have happened throughout the story and she notes that alina was not some sort of legend that people were expecting - none of what happened was. everything that happened from alina to nina's miracles in king of scars to zoya's expanded abilities by the end of rule of wolves to the "age of saints." all of those things were just chance people being in chance situations that all slid together in a strange, amazing coincidence. they got lucky.

and i think, at the center of the books, is this kind of purposeful disillusionment of the saints and religion, what with the main character of the original trilogy literally becoming a saint and yet never truly feeling saint-ly or being perfectly divine. the sun summoner legend the show brings up seems to depart from this. it'll be interesting to see what the show does with the legend and how alina feels about it as she fulfills it, and im honestly hoping that we'll find out later in the series that the legend was actually just some poor guy a few hundred years ago making something up to give people hope.

the crows timeline/characterization

in the books, the six of crowd ice court heist happens three years after the events of the final book of the shadow and bone trilogy. but obviously the timelines are smushed together for the show to create a new and different direction for their story and also, as we see at the end of the season, a new and different direction for alina's story as well

ive also seen bardugo say that because of the converging time lines, the grishaverse story will not take seven seasons (one season per book in the grishaverse) to get through. for this reason, im thinking that the parem story/ice court heist will begin if/when we get season 2. given that parem is a big part of kos/row, i see a crows and nikolai interaction happening in season 2 that sparks a beginning discussion on parem.

but back to the crows characterization! the crows are completely in character for me in almost every way, and i found the interactions between kaz, inej, and jesper to be very in character. however kaz's plan to capture alina doesn't work out almost at all which is something that he definitely wouldn't have let happen in the books. im chalking this up to the converging timelines - these crows are baby crows. they're young, a little less experienced, and they haven't gotten their groove on heists (and they don't have the rest of their crew) yet. but i anticipate seeing more crows-classic successful heists in season 2.

there are a couple of things i want to talk about each crow, so it's subtopic time

nina and matthias

perfect. their interactions were almost always word-for-word from the book. i can't remember if matthias had actually been the one to actually catch nina in the book, but if not, then it was a nice touch. it was interesting to see that both of them were so willing to be traitors of their country for each other in the show, because even when they're in a romantic relationship outside of fjerda and ravka in the book, they struggle with even the idea of betraying their country.

i like how they changed nina and matthias' "escape" from fjerda to ravka, and how nina explicitly betrayed grisha she knew to their faces. im interested to see how they'll integrate her back into the second army, or if they even will do that. also, i like that fedyor slowed matthias' heart to make him pass out before he sees the other grisha, so it was easy to understand how matthias could've thought it was nina deceiving him all along. their confrontation in the boat was (chef's kiss), and the horror on nina's face as she realized that this situation she put him in won't be as easily solvable as she thought was just wonderful.

jesper

perfect. i love him. and the coy little hints that he's a fabrikator were so good. also the line in the very beginning where he asks for a demo man, which foreshadows wylan was very nice. the only thing out of character is one time kaz asks him to be a distraction and show jesper claims that being a handsome distraction is not part of his talents. it literally is, why did they make him lie.

inej

literally so so good. i love that we meet her while she still has her oath not to take lives; we get to see her develop and learn that sometimes death is necessary, but that she still isn't yet comfortable with killing. on some level, she never will be, and i think that was a perfect place to start her character. however, i am confused about the show giving her a brother. where is he. is he going to be important?? why is he here???? i can't even make any solid predictions about him because inej having a brother came straight out of fucking left field. here's one flimsy prediction based on nothing at all: inej's brother is grisha and is an indentured servant. may also be involved in the parem plot, or works at the white rose where nina will befriend him and connect with the rest of the six because of him. who fucking knows

kaz

i already kind of went over their disaster plan that still somehow worked out for him, but i love literally everything else they did with kaz. the refusal to show his bare hands was literally art!! we got that tease in the first episode and the camera pans up as soon as the gloves come off. that was perfection - as well as the intimacy and trust portrayed between kaz and inej without them ever touching. i also loved the hints and nudges for his story with pekka - the way he always says his name with obvious distaste, and when we see him interact with pekka for the first time on screen. how he asks if they've ever made a deal before and pekka just goes "nah" and kaz just glares at him. perfect. and i also think the show really leaned in to the soft parts of kaz that inej sees in him, especially when he basically said she (and jesper) meant more to him than any saint?? oh my GOD. i kind of like this honest departure from kaz's book "greed is my god edgy edgy blah blah" especially when he's afraid he'll lose inej. i also think it'd be funny if we hear kaz say "greed is my god" and be edgy about it with us AND inej knowing that is superficial because of what he told her. that would be hilarious.

pekka, tante heleen, per haskell

these three aren't part of the six, but they are part of the original six of crows story and i still wanted to talk about my opinions on them, so they're going here.

i fucking loved pekka, how ruthless he was, and his irish accent. that was wonderful. because of how fucking hands-on and brutal he was, though, i wonder if they're going to keep the jakob hertzoon piece of kaz's origin story the same, because this pekka was so good at being violent that it was hard to picture him even pretending to be a benevolent benefactor to orphans. he is a dilf, though. i am not afraid to admit that.

my only problem with tante heleen is that her actress looked too nice. like she might bake me cookies and offer me a ride home from school. total milf as well but not in the scary sexy way that she was in the books. she had smile lines, she was so dainty, she seemed so genuine. i want to see her be a little more cruel.

per haskell, the actual gang leader of the crows, is not in the show at all. it seems as though the show made kaz the official boss of the crows while he is only second in command in the book. this makes me wonder how they'll handle or if they'll even include that fucking awesome scene in crooked kingdom of kaz earning the gang's trust over haskell. it would be weird to introduce per haskell in season 2 when he wasn't even mentioned in season 1, but it wouldn't be altogether terrible considering the crows spent very little time in ketterdam this season. however, this makes me wonder if, when kaz was away on his little saint pilgrimage (i am calling it that specifically because i know it would piss him off) someone else stepped in as "boss" of the crows. in the show, kaz also leverages the deed of the crow club in order to be able to take inej with him, and presumably the jewels alina gives him will solve that problem, but what would happen if any of the crows find out he made that deal? would he still have to earn the gang's trust back in a show of power and respect like in crooked kingdom? much to think about.

mal

back to the shadow and bone story, ive already briefly (not really briefly) gone over mal characterization alongside alina, but i want to mention how the show includes his perspective alongside alina's and how important that is. the shadow and bone trilogy is told entirely from alina's perspective, and alina is in some ways an unreliable narrator. she tends to think of her relationships and feelings as one sided unless her friend/love interest is looking her in the eye and telling her exactly how they feel about her. the one exception is genya, and that sort of bites her in the ass until it doesn't, but i digress. the point is, the only mal perspective we get in the books is alina's perception of mal, and the bonus content of the "lost" letter he'd written to her while looking for the stag in fjerda. granted, that letter says a lot about mal and how he feels about alina, so if you didn't take the time to read the letter when reading the book, chances are you weren't so hot on mal unless you have sexy critical reading skills like me (or just really love the childhood best friends to lovers trope).

getting all the gritty, messy details of how hard mal is trying to get back to alina in the show makes him so much more of a sympathetic character than he may have seemed at first glance for the majority of shadow and bone from alina's perspective. the show really stresses that the bond alina and mal have is mutual and powerful, and i think that's fucking perfect, actually.

this point was really driven home during the episode we see that mal has a matching scar on his palm that is related to alina, just like how alina has a mal-related scar on her palm. that scene in the brig was so good, especially when they ask each other what they're in for, and alina says "the usual," and after a pause, mal replies "the usual" as well. he could be lying because he knows she would feel bad if she was the reason he chose to stir trouble to go to the brig, but he could also be saying that he usually actively chooses to be sent to the brig for defending alina or because alina is usually already there and he wants to be with her. knowing that and then seeing alina have the scar on her palm erased was. fucking devastating (in a good-ish way), and im kind of hoping alina either chooses to have the tailoring removed so she can see the scar again or injures her hand in a mal-related injury so they can match again :(

i have more to say about mal, but i'll save it for the grisha theory/amplifier section

the darkling

overall, darkling portrayal was very spot on, but i didn't really like how he just. gave alina his name so early on. in the books im quite certain he doesn't give alina his first name until the third book? regardless, he doesn't give it to her until they've fought and been enemies for a while. theoretically, kirigan giving his real name to alina so early could be a manipulation tactic (like his moments of 'vulnerability' and 'weakness' with alina in the book), especially because we lose that 'heart to heart' by the campfire after the darkling rescues alina from the fjerdans where alina first starts to see the darkling as human.

i also thought it was interesting that alina kisses kirigan first - in the books they're actually having a serious discussion (i can't remember what about, but when she realizes the darkling is Not Good, she remembers the first time they kissed as a thing he possibly did to distract her from thinking her own thoughts), and the darkling interrupts her with a kiss sexy enough for her to forget what's going on. the show however chooses to do a girlboss she-can-move-on-if-she-wants-to moment which is pretty cool and let's be honest, if you like men and ben barnes is right in front of you giving you Sexy Eyes a whole lot, you are going to want to kiss him. that scene where they get interrupted during a steamy kiss, and they laugh and kirigan leaves the frame just to rush back for one last kiss? that nearly fucking converted me. that was really sweet actually. the show does a fantastic job of showing how captivating kirigan's interest can be.

last note about the kirigan for this section - isn't kirigan the name of the guy who owns the guilded bog for nikolai in kos/row? i can't be sure because i don't have my book with me and i refuse to look up information when i have gone this entire post without looking anything up, but if his name isn't kirigan it's pretty fucking close. i don't know what that means, but i don't think bardugo is the type to name characters similar names for no reason. we'll know for sure if/when the guilded bog is introduced.

zoya

most of zoya's portrayal is really in line with her character and her development throughout the shadow and bone trilogy as well as king of scars and rule of wolves. i think the show did a great job of showing how zoya was in the darkling/kirigan's favor for a while before alina arrived and how she resents alina at first for causing her to not be the darkling's favorite anymore. in addition to that, knowing we find out she is part suli in row makes her casting so much better, and i like that we get to see a little more of her personality in the show than we do in the book shadow and bone. of course we see more of her in siege and storm/ruin and rising, but it's nice to have her become a sympathetic character through the knowledge that she has family in novokribirsk and that she purposefully mans skiffs to see them before she fully sides with alina.

the one thing that made me. just confused was zoya calling alina a "half-breed" at the little palace?? it was so out of place (that particular part of the insult; im pretty sure the other thing she said was very much exactly what she said in the book. some insult about orphans i think), especially knowing that zoya herself is a "half-breed," so that didn't make sense to me.

however, i was glad to see alina immediately embrace zoya as an ally - because she knows from the start of zoya's alliance that she had family that kirigan killed. in the books, alina's parentage is not at all important, and their deaths are never specified to matter, but the show points out from the very beginning that alina's parents were swallowed by the fold. i think this makes alina's immediate compassion and forgiveness of zoya make sense, and it was also very sweet and a little funny to see alina pull zoya into a hug that she so obviously does not expect or want to express as something she wants. it was perfect.

east vs west ravka civil war

i don't have much to say about this except it makes kirigan's actions at the fold seem a little better. not great, not by any means, but knowing that the leader of a growing coup was right on the other side really cements in the idea that kirigan is doing this for what he thinks is the greater good of ravka. im pretty sure in the original trilogy, there was also some tension between east and west ravka, but none of it comes to a head until the events of kos/row. great set up for future ravkan tensions in future seasons.

david and genya & fedyor and ivan

before we get into the last meat and potatoes of this post, i want to talk about love because it's a little bit of a break. take this time to stop reading, stretch, relax your jaw, straighten your back, drink water, etc. you've been here a while. you deserve it

okay so first fedyor and ivan. in the books, fedyor and ivan are just bros (i don't even remember them ever really interacting?) but in the show it is heavily implied they are dating. this is so funny to me, and i love it so much. especially because ivan was in a het relationship with marie in the books (but because the show kills marie off before she dies in the books, obviously that is not happening), so they really just decided that ivan and fedyor were gay for seemingly no reason. except i think ivan died on the skiff during the final battle in the show which is kind of a bummer because he lives through to ruin and rising and has an... interesting arc. fedyor, i think, dies in the battle of the little palace in siege and storm, but i wonder what they'll do with this relationship in next seasons. maybe fedyor will take ivan's place as grieving boyfriend with ptsd, but im not sure. i honestly don't even know for certain if ivan dies in the show, so we'll see.

as for genya and david, i would just like to point out the little hints of mutual affection. in the books, it's kind of implied that genya had feelings for david first and he didn't realize his own feelings until after she's scarred by the darkling, but in the show we see david actually looking at genya during the winter fete! like looking, appreciating the view! i loved the show choosing to include that small amount of mutuality, and after finishing rule of wolves it definitely made me feel some type of way. david and genya. i love them, they're perfect.

grisha theory/amplifiers

we're nearing the final stretch in this post, however, i have a lot to say about grisha theory and amplifiers, and i also have a lot to say for the battle of the fold so this "final stretch" will probably be. a very long stretch.

so obviously because of the nature of books and narrative writing, there was a lot of space within the shadow and bone book to go over the grisha theory alina was learning at her time in the little palace in great detail, however in the show we hardly even get any grisha theory at all. the little we get is actually from the apparat. im not sure if we get anything from bhagra. i don't even think we get the phrase "like calls to like" which is the most basic piece of grisha theory throughout the entire grishaverse.

i am definitely. bitter about this. i obviously didn't want huge long meditations on grisha theory in the show, but pretty much the whole time alina was at the little palace, i felt like she had so much time free time to wander around the palace, hang out with nadia and marie, daydream about mal and kirigan. don't get me wrong - those are all valuable activities - but i feel like it missed the point of alina's time at the little palace. she felt isolated there; yes, she had nadia and marie, but she couldn't share with them everything she was going through because she didn't want anyone to truly know how difficult mastering her abilities were. and because she was so isolated, she throws herself into grisha theory, especially during the times in which she can't summon her abilities by herself. this is when she learns about why she's been so sickly her whole life (because she has not used her abilities, and grisha derive some form of life force and energy from using their abilities), all about amplifies, and other really cool world-building for grisha abilities and culture. instead, it was difficult to tell (at least for me) in the show if the palace and the little palace were even different places while in the books the little palace was such a whimsical, ancient, and magical place for alina compared to the gaudiness of the main palace.

the collar

anyway, complaints about architecture and alina's subpar theory education aside, the little bit of grisha theory we get is from the apparat when he talks about ilya morozova and the three amplifiers he was attempting to make during his lifetime. when the apparat is describing amplifiers, it almost seems like amplifers - not just morozova's inventions - are super rare in the world of the show. amplifiers are relatively rare in the books, obtained by only some of the most powerful grisha (zoya, ivan, alina), but they still exist. from what we've seen of zoya and ivan, they didn't seem to have amplifiers on their person, so it looks like alina is unique not only in getting an amplifier from one of morozova's beasts, but also in just getting an amplifier in general, which is a little weird.

EDIT: thanks to @laelipoo for pointing out that zoya is actually shown to have what looks like a tiger’s tooth embedded in the skin of her wrist in the first episode! so okay this shows that powerful grisha still have amplifiers in the world of the show, but this probably suggests that instead of being pieces of jewelry like in the books, they act more as body modifications, which is really interesting. if im not mistaken, ivan’s amplifier is a necklace in the book, so maybe his show-amplifier would’ve been embedded in the skin of his chest. regardless, i’d still like to see more discussion on how amplifiers in the show work - which, now that we know zoya most probably has an amplifier, we might get to see with her becoming more prevalent of a character in the projected arcs of the show (both shadow and bone trilogy as well as kos/row)

i can't remember if morozova was ever referred to as "the bonesmith" (i feel like he has been, but not in the way the apparat refers to him in the show), but i feel as though that was a kind of. foreshadowing for how we would see the stag amplifier work later in the show. in the book, the stag's antlers are a literal collar around alina's neck that remains there until she loses her abilities, so the metaphor of being "owned" by the darkling is definitely there. it never stops being there until she loses the ability that makes her his mirror and his tool. however, in the show we definitely. do not get that.

so i've seen some people say that they hate the design of the stag collar, and i cannot say i was a huge fan of looking at it myself. but that just really cemented in the fact that kirigan forcing the collar on her is a complete violation of her body and her agency. the fact that the bones erupt from her skin and that her skin looks irritated where the bones puncture through her skin just reinforces the idea that this fusion is not natural and is not supposed to be pretty because kirigan taking control of her in this way is really really terrible actually. in addition to the collar, the show also gives kirigan a circle of bone embedded in his hand - which, hand versus collar, who has the most agency in this situation, his hand is quite literally around her neck, etc - but i feel like they made this change so that non-readers could see and understand the mutuality of the amplifier in a physical manifestation because the show doesn't expand on that theory at all.

i really liked that the show kept the reason for alina gaining control of the amplifier being her connection with the stag before kirigan killed it because that at least is consistent with the theory in the books, especially with the expansion of that same theory in kos/row with zoya's connection with juris and how true use of an amplifier requires mutual connection, understanding, and suffering between the grisha and the animal.

i also thought that the way the show portrayed alina taking back control of her power with the stag's horns absorbing into her own bones was a really effective way to show that the power is hers now, and that it is a part of her. however, i wish the show had kept some evidence of the collar because of how it quickly became a piece of her iconography in the books as well as a symbol of her power. seeing as how alina stabbed the circle of bone out of kirigan's hand (very sexy girlboss moment), i wonder if kirigan will still be able to control her abilities. if he can, i hope that any time he uses her abilities, the horns emerge from her skin again as a visual signifier that alina is being violated and that her own power is being used against her. OR even at the times in which alina uses kirigan's power against him (like if the show depicts the conclusion to the battle of the little palace where alina uses the darkling's merzost) to have the horns come out of her skin to show that she is reinforcing her bond with him. both would be really cool.

alina and mal

okay so in ruin and rising we learn that not only are alina and mal bffs and in love whatever, but also that they've been drawn to each other because mal is actually the host to the last of morozova's amplifiers. and then alina looks back at the times in which she's felt the most powerful or when they encountered morozova's beasts, and she realizes that all of those times coincide with when she had important moments with mal. this reveal is huge in the series, and without the build up, i fear it might seem like it would've come out of nowhere if the show chooses to go in the same direction.

for example, alina and mal in the book only find the stag after they kiss for the first time. however, in the show they don't kiss. they don't even move mal's "i see you now" speech to right before they find the stag. it's simply a jump cut to alina and mal in the forest looking at the stag. they might be talking, but i don't think it was an 'important' moment for them.

however, they've been setting mal up as a better-than-average tracker since the very beginning with ana kuya asking him specifically to hunt for dinner. mal also admits that when he saw alina's power come from the tent when kirigan is testing her power that he heard a 'high-pitched tone' and somehow intuitively knew that it was her or something like that. he also tells alina that he'll always be able to find his way to her, no matter what, which is really romantic of course, but it is also part of their connection as one of morozova's three amplifiers and the girl who will possess at one point in time two of the three amplifiers.

i also think that the scene in ruin and rising when alina kills mal for his power is supposed to directly mirror the scene in the shadow and bone book where alina tells mal before they find the stag that she wants him to kill her before she can be caught by the darkling; part of the reason she feels strongly enough to ask this is because she understands grisha theory enough to know what the darkling's plans for the stag and her are. when she's protecting mal and the stag from the darkling, she begs mal to kill her. but he doesn't. and in ruin and rising, when they're out of options during the final battle, mal tells alina to kill him. and she does.

but without alina asking to be killed paired alongside the lack of intimate mal and alina moment before they find the stag, i wonder if the show will be heading in the same direction as the books in terms of mal's status as the last of morozova's creations, or if they'll decide to do something different.

battle of the fold

i think the most obvious difference in the battle of the fold is that kaz, inej, and jesper are like. just chillin on the skiff. additionally, zoya is on the skiff (her presence there was discussed in the zoya section), and mal is not a prisoner in the skiff like he was in the book - he snuck on. for the six's presence on the skiff, i don't mind it and i actually like how they participate in the battle (inej throwing a knife into kirigan's chest and nearly ending his shit right then and there was something we always wanted but did not know we wanted. same with zoya and inej bonding during a fight), but the change in mal's freedom status on the ship is a little more complicated.

in the books, the darkling lets alina and mal spend one last night together (with bars between them) before whatever happens on the fold. i can't remember if he tells alina that he plans to execute mal in the fold, but regardless it becomes apparent that is his plan when he throws mal overboard, on the edges of alina's sunlight, and begins reigning in the sunlight so that mal will be consumed by the fold. it's the fact that mal is in danger that alina manages to gain control of her power once more, and she saves mal. the group of dignitaries from the various nations are still on the ship when she makes her escape, and she uses the Cut - a form of summoner ability that she has never used before and has only ever been used by the darkling. she makes the terrible and difficult decision to let the dignitaries die in the fold alongside the darkling, because she believes it's a worthy sacrifice to make, and she and mal escape together.

i think this sequence of events would've tracked really well in the show with how alina had previously been depicted as mal's protector, but the show chooses not to have alina save mal and kill the dignitaries. instead, the show has kirigan kill the dignitaries and also has mal have a homoerotic fist fight with kirigan which is. not exactly not in line with themes the show has put on, especially with how mal and kirigan have interacted before in the show.

in the books, we don't see mal and the darkling interact without alina as a buffer, and so a fistfight between them in the battle of the fold in shadow and bone wouldn't have made narrative sense and would've just ended up feeling cheap. however we do see mal and kirigan interact without alina in the show - when mal is showing kirigan where the stag is and kirigan learns alina's favorite flower through mal, and when kirigan gives mal that petty little speech about how he'll get alina eventually while mal grows old and dies.

there's an interesting phenomenon in certain kinds of love triangles; most of the time you see love triangles in the classic sense of Person B and Person C both being in love with Person A, who has to make the choice between B and C. however, that's not a true love triangle - there also needs to be a connecting factor between B and C. and, in most cases, that connecting factor is the ritual of masculine homosocial rivalry. so when applying this kind of love triangle to alina, mal, and kirigan, we see that both mal and kirigan have feelings for alina, but they also have a connection to each other through their rivalry, which is as much about rituals of masculine conquering (whether the person they are wanting to conquer is alina or the other man is a very interesting question to which the answer is yes) as it is about being the person alina loves.

do i personally like the kirigan/mal fight in the fold? no, i would've much preferred to see alina rescue and protect mal. however, i do recognize that the fight makes narrative sense within the show, and it was really funny to see kirigan get his shit rocked by mal's bare fists a couple of times. i would say i hope he's been humbled by the experience but we all know that's not true.

also remember when i mentioned that kirigan is the one who kills the dignitaries here instead of alina leaving them to die? and remember, way back in the beginning when i said that alina inadvertently getting her cartography unit killed in the show may have been a swap for some deaths in the battle of the fold? alina being excused from the deaths of the dignitaries in the show but responsible for the deaths of her cartography friends at the beginning is what i was talking about. like i said way back (or maybe i didn't say it but im saying it now), it makes narrative sense. i get it.

however, i think the choice not to have alina perform the Cut on the skiff when she regains control of her power is an interesting one. because, in the book, that was an ultimate show-off of power (even if it was a terrible moment for alina). no one else but the darkling can perform a Cut, and as soon as alina forcibly takes control of her power from the darkling she uses his own signature move to leave him for death? that's a power move. that's irony. that's a physical manifestation of alina being able to adopt and take advantage of some of the darkling's power and use it against him, which is definitely a main theme in the book as it happens every single time alina gets close to defeating him and also when she actually defeats him.

so the Cut is really important, and i want to see in what other situation the show might have alina perform a Cut of her own against kirigan, or if they'll even include that aspect of reclaiming of power. i really want them to.

conclusion

so what have we learned? i think, first and foremost, we have learned that i have so many opinions and should learn how to be sweet and concise with my words. we have also learned there were a lot of changes between the grishaverse books and the series, and these were only the changes that i remembered off the top of my head having watched the series almost a week ago and having reread the books over the past few months.

in addition to those things, we have learned that, in my academic opinion, many of the changes made to fit the story into the screen were positive changes or, at the very least, changes i am interested in seeing develop. in the end, i am just a fan, and regardless of what season 2 may throw at us, i trust bardugo's decisions because she has never let me down narratively before, so i'll probably end up loving things the show ends up doing because i am, at my core, a simple sort of person.

i had a lot of fun writing this all up, and i hope this super long post was informative or entertaining in some way. thank you so much for reading<3<3<3<3

#shadow and bone #s&b #shadow and bone netflix #s&b netflix #long post #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #the darkling #general kirigan #shadow and bone analysis #shadow and bone meta #peach stuff #jesus christ. if you read all this you are so strong. stronger than the us marines. i am so sorry im like this #you'd think during finals season my theory and analysis brain would turn off but no. apparently not #i did this as a reward. for finishing a research paper. i wrote and compiled all of this as a REWARD #also if my details are off or wrong in any way it's because i didn't do any fact checking <3 #im only human after all #and you can always comment or message me saying i fucked up and i'll edit this post #i haven't slept in. maybe 30 hours #i have gotten 5 hours of sleep within the past 48+ hours. i am having a great time #today is my break day though my next final isn't due until friday evening so i'll just. do it tomorrow and friday #anyways yeah. im so sorry for this. this also may be the best thing ive ever done

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funtimefishy · 4 years

Text

Beyond the Gate ~ PT.1

request: none!!

word count: 1192

warnings: no warnings that i can think of

canonical inconsistencies: i’m not too sure if a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza would still be standing 30/40 years later, but thats not really canonical, is it?

A/N: hi again! ive been working on this for a couple of days and i kinda like it tbh. its definitely better than some of my... OTHER posts (ahem.. As Time Ticked On). i think you might like this one if you’re always looking for action/exciting things to do. enjoy!!

extra: gender neutral reader :) this fic was created with a younger reader in mind (12-16), but it works with people of all ages. THIS IS NOT A ROMANTIC FNAF X READER POST!! part 2 coming... whenever

“Are you sure we should do this?” Finn asked, glancing at the exterior of the abandoned building. “I mean, what are we getting out of this? Juvenile detention?”

“Come on, Finn,” You said, eagerly. “Take your nose out of a book sometimes and have some fun.”

“I have fun reading.” Finn proudly said.

“Some real fun.” You corrected yourself, scoffing as you stared up at the rain pouring down. “Let’s hurry up and go inside. It’s not getting any drier out here.” You began walking through the tall grass and plants that spread like an infection as the building grew older. The wet grass beneath you squished and squelched as you walked through.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Finn said. “We’re trespassing. Illegally trespassing.”

“Okay?” You asked. “It’s not illegal if we don’t get caught, and we won’t.”

“And if we do?” Finn affirmed. You stopped walking and spun around, facing Finn, who still hasn’t stepped an inch closer.

“We say we’re on a school field trip and got lost. Simple.” You grinned. “Now, come on.” You continued walking towards the building, and Finn finally decided to follow.

“A school field trip on a Sunday?” Finn snickered. “I can’t wait to explain that to the cops.”

“Okay, Mr. Unhappy.” You said, pausing in your tracks once more. Finn also stopped walking. “If you don’t wanna do this, you can happily turn around and ride your bike back to my house. I’ll meet you there in an hour. Now, are you in or out?”

Finn looked away from you, aiming his eyes towards the ground. He sighed. “I’m in.”

“Good!” You grinned, patting Finn on his shoulder. “Let’s go.” You both continued your slow walk through the overgrown and thick nature.

“What do you expect to find here?” Finn asked. “The place has probably been picked clean by robbers or graffiti artists.”

“You think I’m here to steal?” You replied. “Nah, I plan to just look around and maybe pick at something that catches my eye. This place is, like, historic!”

“How?”

“You don’t know where we are?” You questioned. “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza? That name doesn’t found familiar to you?”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well, years ago, like, 30 or 40, this place used to be really popular. Your grandma probably came here!” You explained. “Then, out of nowhere, it just, like, shut down randomly, and no one ever knew why.”

“Well, there has to be a reason it shut down, right?” Finn was loaded with questions today, but it took you by no surprise.

“Well,” You started. “I spent about five minutes of research on this place and there are two possibilities. One, the company was hiding information from the public until the commotion died down, or two, what I think happened, it shut down for no reason.”

“Five whole minutes of research!? Wow, you’re really good at this!” Finn sarcastically laughed.

“You flatter me.” You smiled. The rain got heavier (as the forecast predicted), and you noticed a flash of light in the sky, followed by a loud crash. Finn jumped, startled by the thunder. “You don’t wanna be struck by lightning? Then let’s go inside.”

“Or we can just turn back and go back to your house, which is probably a much safer bet,” Finn replied. “I’m no expert, but you’ll probably be far better protected in an actual sturdy home than some rust bucket.”

“I told you, you’re more than welcome to turn back.” You reminded Finn. “And this isn’t a rust bucket.” You and Finn stopped walked as you reached the building’s double doors; the front doors. “This is history. You love history!”

The doors appeared to once be red, but years of decay and withering made them faded and scratched, leaving behind a pale pinkish color. You reached out your hand and gripped the metal doorknob, twisting it and pulling outward. Instead of the door swinging open, the door jolted and buckled as you yanked on the doorknob.

“This is a sign we should leave,” Finn muttered under his breath.

“Shut up and help me.” You replied. You continued pulling the doorknob as Finn walked up next to you. “You grab one, I’ll grab the other, okay?”

Finn twisted the doorknob of the other door and began pulling too, yet neither of you could get the doors open.

“We’ll find a way in through the back.” You uttered. “I’m sure there’s a backdoor or something.”

“Is this really worth it?” Finn complained once more. “Seriously, I mean, there’s probably nothing to look at in here.”

“Probably,” You said, turning to the right of the front doors and walking along the side of the building. Finn hesitated for a bit, then growled as he followed you through the heavy rain. “But that’s why we have to see.”

“We have to or we want to? By ‘we’, I only mean ‘you’.” You both turned the corner of the building and continued walking.

“I want to.” You nearly tripped on a stick on the ground, catching yourself before you fell face-flat on the grass. You pretended it didn’t happen. “Come on, Finn. How often do we get to hang out, just me and you?” Lightning flashed in the sky again, followed by another boom. Finn shivered.

“Last time we hung out, it ended in two broken tables, a shattered window, and an awkward trip to the emergency room,” Finn assured you. “I still have that scar-”

You stopped walking abruptly and Finn did the same, stopping in the middle of his sentence. “Look! An entrance!”

“Where?” Finn asked, staring at the outer wall of the building, the same wall you were looking at.

“Right here, Finn!” You walked up to the wall and lifted a bunch of vines that hid a small hole from view. Alas, you were right. There was an entrance to the inside of Freddy’s. You were surprised you noticed it. It was at the bottom of the wall, allowing tall grass and all different kinds of nature to unintentionally hide it, but also making entry much easier.

“That isn’t the most ideal entrance, don’t you think?” Finn mentioned. “Can’t we look for a backdoor, you know, a real entrance?”

“You can look for one if you want to, but I’m going in through here.” You said, determined to find something; anything inside the old pizzeria. There was something here. You knew it. There had to be.

You dropped to all fours, looking through the hole in the wall. It was dark inside except for the streaks of light that came in through holes in the roof, allowing other things like rain and vines to seep in. You didn’t mind the mud and grass stains getting in your jeans as you began crawling through the small hole, just big enough for a human to crawl through. How convenient.

“Y/N,” Finn nervously babbled. “This isn’t allowed. We’re on private property.” Once you were through the hole, you rose to your feet and glanced at your surroundings. You nearly screamed but quickly stopped yourself. You should have screamed.

“Finn,” You gasped. “You have to come see this.”

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf writing #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #freddy fazbear's pizza #fnaf 1 #fnaf 2 #fnaf 3 #fnaf 4 #freddy fazbear #bonnie #chica #foxy #part 1 #five nights at freddys

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writefinch · 4 years

Text

Dear Dairy, Pt.1 (cn: noncon, Mm, kidnap, emphasis on *forced* feminization, induced lactation, milking, bondage, drugging, induction of gender dysphoria in a cis guy, things of that nature)

7th July 2018

Cold day today. I dusted off my scarves for the first time this year. Not literally, they'd been vacuum sealed and packed away when the weather turned in October. I threw out the red and yellow knit scarf, something I should have done last year, as it's far too Harry Potter. I was going to pick out the UMIST scarf but that felt a touch dull for the first scarf of the year. In the end I picked out the green silk paisley, which I felt provided a contrast with the pink shirt. I wore them with the second-hand grey Armani that I've yet to have tailored; I haven't yet decided if it's worth the trouble. I'm leaning towards yes, as I received two compliments today, one from Jason's database administrator, a charming and flirtatious--to say nothing of attractive--lady from Perth. We've talked about the possibility of meeting up for drinks at some point, and I'm increasingly inclined to take her up on the offer.

Experiment C2 is adjusting to his newfound freedom since his release last week. It was sad to see him go, and I'll cherish the time we spent together, our first night especially when he violently objected to the idea of servicing me. Oh, how he kicked and fought, clawing at his neck chain, scratching me, biting, swinging wildly. He bloodied my nose rather viciously and left me in no mood for sex that night, to the extent that I almost let him go entirely.

Of course, his demeanor changed altogether after I bagged him. A clear plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck, watching him gasp and writhe for air that isn't there, screaming his silly little head off until he's sure that he's taken his final breath, then tearing a tiny hole over his nostrils. I let him suck in four generous lungfuls of air before I bagged him the second time, and I went through seven bags before allowing him a rest. After that he became such an agreeable and solicitous cocksleeve you'd have thought he was raised in a merchant marine!

Still, he was unsuitable both physiologically and psychologically for the experimental interventions, and I only have so much space in the cellar, so I had to let him go. Some of my social acquaintances are keeping a close eye on him. He's been told that running his mouth will lead to nothing but the cold grave, and I believe he's a bright enough lad to take that to heart.

I'm beginning the search for his replacement tomorrow.

20th July 2018

I've found him! I've found him I've found him, he is everything I've been looking for, he is perfect, it is as if God placed that boy on earth for no other purpose than my need for him. I can barely contain my excitement.

He is an itinerant surf bum, twenty years of age, single, underemployed, estranged from his family. He has flowing blond hair, a few wisps under his chin that can barely be called a beard, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, rangy figure that seems to be slowly growing into the top-heavy carrot-shaped build of a classic surfer. He's been living in town since May, surfing most days, doing temp jobs, lodging in the spare bedroom of a friend of mine.

What a perfect physique! His body is accustomed to being dashed over rocks and whipped by surf, what fun I will have finding and surpassing his tolerances for pain! Oh, to restrict and ration out air to a boy who has trained himself to hold his breath underwater since he was a young teenager, to see those taut muscles stretched over a rack, I cannot wait, I can't wait.

I won't speak or write his name. I now take every action with the foregone conclusion that he is mine, and that he is already Experiment C3. In my mind, he is already in my cellar.

My friend has kindly allowed him to get behind on his rent, and C3 apparently plans to move to Sydney in ten day's time, driving out across the country in his decade-old Ford Ka, surfboard strapped to the roof. When he disappears a few days before that, people will assume he left to avoid paying his rent.

They won't be wrong, in a sense. C3 won't be worrying about rent for a long, long time...

26th July, 2018

It hasn't been an easy choice, and it is in fact a decision I've been struggling with for some time now, but I've decided to let my hair go grey. I'm almost forty for heaven's sake, and I noticed my first grey a year before the financial crisis. Ever since then I've been religious in my application of dye and toner, carefully concealing each and every one of the pale little buggers that pops up, but it's gone from something I'd do after a haircut to something I'm doing twice a week. I won't rush it, I'm going to ease off the dye over the course of the next year or so, but by next July I'll be au naturelle salt and pepper.

Work remains dull but tolerable. I know I'm blessed to be able to do most of my duties from home given my hobbies, but there's a certain sense of removal from everything, as if it's not really a job at all and I'm back at university doing a coursework-intensive compulsory module. On the other hand, I do enjoy going to the office in a way that I did not when I was going there five days a week!

Experiment C3 is screaming his head off again, I think. It's very faint, and I've turned off the air conditioning in the sitting room so I can hear it coming up from below. I suppose I can't blame the boy, given the circumstances. He hasn't seen me since the drugs wore off, and he's in the same configuration I first kept C2 in: his feet are in snowboard boots and locked into clips in the floor, his neck is in a steel collar connected to an eyebolt on the floor by a one-metre chain, his wrists are cuffed and pulled up towards the ceiling by another chain, he has noise-cancelling headphones strapped over his ears blaring white noise, and he's wearing a blindfold snug enough to prevent him from even blinking underneath it.

He's been there for seven hours now, since three in the morning. He can neither stand nor sit nor lie down, he cannot turn around, he cannot see--though it is pitch black in the cellar even if he wasn't blindfolded--he cannot hear his own voice, and I very much doubt he has any idea how he got there.

As I said, I haven't been down to see him properly yet, so I'm monitoring him at a distance via CCTV and also his pulse and blood oxygen readings. I'm keeping him watered through an IV drip and I'm not at all worried about feeding him just yet, though I'm sure he'll be getting hungry given that I emptied out the contents of his guts with an enema while he was still unconscious. I want him properly good and woozy from sleep deprivation before I introduce myself, either forty-eight hours or until his vitals get a tad skiffy, whichever is shorter. By my word, I am not an impatient man!

Of course, given the close monitoring required, I'll only be getting a few more hours sleep than he will. I suspect I'm getting the better half of the deal. Ah, the poor thing just wet himself. He needn't worry, it's all going into the bucket between his feet, and it'll go to good use later.

I've calmed myself down since his capture, for practical reasons as much as anything else, but I am still abuzz with energy. I am already looking forward to writing my next entry!

28th July 2018

I introduced myself to C3 today.

He spent an impressively long time in the stress position before he was unable to push his legs and instead dangled from his wrists, almost twelve hours, at which point I let the wrist rope go slack and allowed him to collapse. To prevent him from sleeping I intermittently blasted him with high pressure cold water whenever his pulse dropped below 100, for about a further four hours until I decided he'd had enough rest and strung his wrists back up.

He lasted five hours that time, so I let his wrists down again and stood sentry with a paintball gun, giving him a good and proper three-round burst whenever he stopped whimpering. Up again, barely an hour, down again, where I pinned him to the floor with wiring from an electric fence, set to deliver low-intensity zaps across his arms and chest whenever it seemed as if sleep was a possibility. He only got a few shocks, I think the first few put him in such a state of alarm that he didn't dare relax enough to be given another.

I strung him up a few more times, sometimes combining the motivators--his quivering thighs made a delightful target for paintballs as he tried to hold them in a crouching squat--until we reached the forty-ninth hour. I then played my recorded introduction tape through his headphones. It was identical to the one I'd played for C1 and C2, which was itself similar to the one recorded for B4 through B9.

Of course, as the deaf and blindfolded boy was crouch-squatting in place hearing my voice tell him that his old life was forfeit, that he was livestock now, that he would be used as a sex slave, that disobedience would only lead to misery, and the details of the hormone treatments he would be on, I was standing in front of him, masturbating.

My timing was impeccable. Just as the last lines of the recording said "if you're wondering when you'll meet me, I'm right in front of you," I came all over his whorish face. I'm afraid I'm no Peter North, I've no more than four spurts and the first one is always rather watery, but I nailed him right between the lips with one burst and smeared the rest over his face with the tip of my cock. He froze up rather delightfully during the whole ordeal, barely flinching as I cleaned off the tip in his hair.

I took the microphone and spoke directly into his headphones. I told him he'd been in his predicament for two days so far, that he was to obey my simple instructions, and that if he did he would be allowed food and allowed to rest. I told him that I would not require him to speak at any point during these instructions, and that if he so much as whispered I'd keep him strung up without food for another two days. He nodded in agreement, which earned him a hard slap, as I'd not asked him to nod or shake his head. I told him then to nod if he understood, which he did.

I freed one of his arms at a time, telling them to keep them in place and move them only as and when I told him to move them. He obeyed--a far quicker learner than C1--and I put him into the straitjacket. I unlatched his boots one at a time, putting him in ankle cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them. I injected him in the buttocks with his first dose of anti-androgens, a painkiller, and his hormonal cocktail, and I removed the IV from his arm.

At that point I led him to his cage, a 2x3 metre cell, 1.5 metres high. I removed his blindfold, though it did him little good as it was pitch black in the entire room--I'd switched off the lights and was working via a set of light amplification goggles--and pushed him onto the wipe-clean bedroll.

"Lie still like a good little boy until the lights turn on, and then you can help yourself to some food," I said to him. He made a sound as if to respond, then silenced himself, lying still in his bonds.

The lights were on a timer, and they came on harsh and bright when I was upstairs, watching him through the CCTV on my desktop with a fresh pot of coffee. Three of the walls of his cage were walled off with a tarp, allowing him to see about a fifth of the basement through the remaining wall. Inside his cage was his bedroll, a doggie bowl full of oatmeal and bananas, a small plastic trough filled with fresh water, and a litter tray.

I considered staying up and watching him, seeing the fear grow in his eyes, his first attempt at eating cold food without the use of his hands, the humiliation of pissing in a litter tray, but I was exhausted. As soon as I've finished writing this entry, I'm going to take a well-deserved nap.

4th October 2018

The truffle salt from Coles is a waste of time. Don't misunderstand me, it's useable, it's palatable, and it has the necessary truffle aroma. "Has" is the key word there, it's got the half-life of Fermium and after a week in the cupboard it's now just table salt with black specks in it. I think I'm going to invest in some decent truffle oil at Christmas.

C3 is coming along marvelously. The combination of injections and a high-fat, high-calorie, vitamin-rich diet have had a visible impact on his physique. His skin has softened even further from a clear and healthy surfer's complexion to almost peachlike smoothness and he now has visible jiggle on his thighs, stomach and buttocks. Most importantly, he's now the not-at-all-proud owner of a set of A-cup breasts, complete with sensitive, pebble-sized nipples.

His breasts are extremely sensitive. He's told me as much directly, but I've confirmed it through experimental means. A few light stripes under the nipples with the cane used to bring a wince to his face when he first came under my care, now it brings him to his knees, and the mere sight of the thing leads him to cry and whine rather prettily.

He did have some issues with portion control, in that he wasn’t eating the full servings of food I had prepared for him. This was unreasonable and short-sighted on his part: while plain, I have not asked him to eat anything that I wouldn't willingly eat myself, and while I am not a professional cook I am certainly a talented amateur.

The solution was a simple one: if even a smear of food remains in his dish, I do not feed him for the next two to four days. I only had to enforce this rule twice, and he's finished every meal I've put in front of him for the past two months.

He's gone without sleeping for the last forty-eight hours, he's gone without speaking for the last three weeks, and I've added a low dose of LSD to his drinking water. Tonight he should be somewhat tractable for the induction of a hypnotic state. I am not trying to control his behaviour--there's nothing I want him to do that I couldn't compel him to do through more reliable means--but for an in-depth interview. In concert with a lie detector and a regulated dose of barbiturates, I am going to make him bare his soul to me.

There are a few specifics I'm interested in, such as confirming my assessment of his sexuality and gender identity, and it never hurts to shore up my security by inquiring of any planned means of escape or rescue, but in great part I am doing this for morale effect: I want him to have no respite from me, even inside his own mind. He will learn that he has no more control of his thinking than he does of his eating, sleeping or exercising.

Speaking of which, I had to leave him in an armbinder for a few nights when he insisted on doing press-ups in his cell. The additional restraints distressed him greatly, and he's seemed afraid to even move lest I restrain him further. That was back in August, and I have since acquired an elliptical trainer which I allow him to use daily, good behaviour permitting.

I will write again tomorrow with details of tonight's interview, and I only hope it's more productive than C2's interview was.

5th October 2018

Well, that was elucidating.

I left C3 unrestrained for the interview. It was his first time free of shackles and cuffs outside of his cage since he'd arrived, as I wanted him to be relatively comfortable and I was confident that his drug cocktail would prevent any serious escape attempts.

He is not a natural hypnotic subject and I was only successful in inducing a semi-trance state. I don't think he achieved a trance, but I think he believed he was in a trance, and for my purposes that was more than sufficient. He talked for hours and provided an unabridged history of his life so far. His parents, his brothers, his schooling, his love of surfing and camping, his romantic attachments and rejections, his childhood friends and bullies, his fear of dogs, his earliest memories, his deepest shames, enough to fill a short memoir.

The interview lasted for ten hours, with breaks every two hours to allow him to pee (as I'd also allowed him to drink lime cordial from a cup while he spoke) and to adjust his dose of drugs and deepen his trance state. He cried frequently and easily. He bears a great amount of shame and guilt for someone so young and so relatively innocent--raised by Catholics, naturally--and spent half of the fifth hour in uncontrollable hysterics. I let him rest his head in my lap and stroked his hair as he cried, and he clung on to me like a man drowning. Once he ran out of tears he had a bout of cathartic laughter, and after that a calm passed over him, and he remained in a state of detached, cooperative calm until I ended the interview.

Of course, most of this was filler and background information for the parts that truly interested me: his sexuality and gender identity. Both were perfect. His sexuality is less important but still delightful. He is entirely heterosexual and repulsed by men. He still has nightmares about the one time I have molested him so far, when I coated his face with cum shortly after his chapter. You wouldn't believe how hard I got as he told me that!

He sometimes masturbates in his cage, which he tells me is mostly from boredom than any sexual desire, and he fantasizes about sex with women. He has little interest in sadomasochism, no interest whatsoever about taking a submissive role, and aside from a weak interest in pegging he is plain vanilla. He has fantasies about sex in public, fucking multiple women, being woken up by receiving oral sex, and seducing older women.

His gender identity is much the same: male, through and through. He has insecurities about being slight and physically unimposing--related to bullying in school--and about being insufficiently masculine. He takes pride in the callouses in his hands and the scars on his body from surfing, and wishes that the thin, pale stubble on his face was thicker.

It's of little surprise then that he finds the changes from the hormones to be a cruel and unwanted imposition. His breast growth makes him feel powerless and disgusted with himself, he can feel his muscles weakening, the tenderness in his breasts is terrifying and degrading, and even the topic of penile and testicular shrinkage made him choke up and sob. He says that even when I allow him to sleep, his mind feels clouded and he finds it increasingly difficult to identify the particulars of his emotional state, which swings and changes in ways he is not used to.

Again, I must reiterate how promising this is. My experiments concern the induction of sexual neuroses and physical development on non-consenting subjects. C1 was unsuitable because he--well, she, more likely--was a little too keen to embrace the role I had planned for her.

C3 is sleeping now. I haven't actually left our impromptu "therapy room" and he's drifted off with his head in my lap. He needs the rest. I have big plans for him, after all.

24th October, 2018

I took a trip to the cinema today. Specifically the single-screen cinema in the back of the adult bookshop. C2 is turning tricks for the manager. I don't think it's his first career choice but for some reason he's been unable to get a job anywhere else in town. He tried being an independent streetwalker for a while, which didn't work out well for him as he was quickly picked up by the local police and treated rather roughly. Almost as if they were keeping an eye on him!

The manager of the adult bookshop got in touch with him, I believe he was waiting for him outside the local lockup in fact, and informed him of a safe, reliable means of plying his trade. Now he sucks cock in the back room cinema along with a handful of other whores in exchange for a roof over his head and ten percent of the ticket sales.

He was apparently given a second tour of the police cells for not handing his tips over to the manager in a timely and honest manner, so his left eye was still swollen shut when I saw him today. His garb was delightful: pastel pink yoga leggings with the Adidas stripes down the sides, and a duck egg blue midriff-cut t-shirt with "BOY" on the chest, with a female gender symbol in place of the O.

I sat down next to him in the otherwise empty cinema and flashed him my ticket, which had set me back $84--worth every penny--and he flashed me a charming smile. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like all of my experiments and side projects he'd never seen me without a mask. He put his hand on my thigh and told me his name, which I've already forgotten. The feature began, a rather energetic video from the noughties with Kelly Wells, Hillary Scott and Layla Riviera, prompting C2 to get on his knees in front of me. He gagged a little when he unzipped my jeans, not because I was unwashed but because I'd applied a generous quantity of deodorant and aftershave so that he would not recognise me via scent.

I enjoyed a slow, leisurely blowjob for the next hour, where he displayed all the basic techniques I'd so painstakingly taught him as well as a few new ones he'd picked up more recently. There's something to be said about consuming porn this way, not just the oral service but also watching the film from the beginning, without skipping forward to my favorite parts or switching between videos, letting myself slowly build towards my climax at the same pace as the on-screen action. I came just before the money shot, pulling out to cum all over C2's face as Kelly Wells guzzled piss on the big screen, and let C2 lick and suck my balls until the credits rolled.

Before he or I got up, I took out $20, waved it in front of his eyes, and then used the notes to wipe cum up from his face. He flinched at the roughness, scowled, told me to cut it out, and put his hand on my leg as if to push away from me. I said three words.

"Punishment position three."

It was as if I'd reached inside him and squeezed. He let out a pitiful squeak, straightened up on his knees, pushed out his chest, put his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let his tongue hang out. I stuffed the cum-soaked banknotes between his mouth.

"Be good, C2," I told him as I stood up. He didn't move a muscle as I walked out of the cinema, and as the door closed behind me, I heard a single muffled sob. It was an enjoyable experience and I certainly needed it after the last few days because C3 has really been a handful.

It began on the weekend when the first signs of lactation appeared. C3 has been getting increasingly upset with the changes to his body, his widening hips, his weight gain, his shrinking musculature, his shrinking genitalia, and his C-cup breasts. The breasts are especially upsetting, he complains that they ache constantly and are tender to the slightest touch. In any case, when the first droplets of milk dribbled out of his nipples something snapped.

Through tears, he told me that he refuses to eat, that he cannot live with the things I am doing to him, and that I should either let him go or kill him. Obviously this is unacceptable. I told him I was not treating his request with any seriousness, and that if he did not eat his meal, he would go without for the next several days. He nodded forlornly, but still refused the food.

I strapped his hands into leather mitts to prevent him from improvising methods of self-harm, and continued as normal. For the next three days, he refused to respond to commands or obey orders, remaining silent and going limp. He wailed in pain when I caned his soles and slapped his tits, but he continued to wallow in self-pity.

He was ravenously hungry by Wednesday, but when I gave him the opportunity to eat, he would not. I left the bowl of food in his cage overnight, and in the morning it remained untouched. He had not thrown it out or despoiled it, he had simply ignored it in an admirable, if misplaced, display of willpower. I gave him one final warning that there would be serious consequences if he did not eat now. He refused, so I applied the consequences.

I fitted him into a padded restraining board, on his back, his arms, legs, chest, stomach, forehead, chin, wrists and ankles held in place by canvas straps. He could not move an inch, not that he was trying particularly hard. A hollow dildo gag with a breathing hole went into his mouth, principally to prevent him from trying to bite off his own tongue. I catheterized him and inserted a hollow plug into his backside, not overly gently in either case, much to his consternation.

Then, intubation. I fed a heavily-lubricated silicone hose into his left nostril. He thrashed and twitched, as is expected when such a procedure is performed without the aid of benzodiazepines. Undeterred, I asked him to start swallowing, lest the tube end up in his lungs. He did as much gagging as swallowing, but after a few eventful minutes I felt the tell-tale glide of it being pulled down his esophagus and into his stomach.

Once the tube was taped in place under his nose, I attached the free end to a pump until it drew fluid out from within him. A few drops of this fluid onto pH paper revealed it to be stomach acid, which hopefully meant that the hose was not in his lungs. I then attached the hose to the feeding machine, and explained to C3 exactly how it would work.

He would have his meals and water combined into a slurry, kept at a cool four degrees celsius, and injected into his feeding tube. The pressure inside the hose would make breathing difficult or impossible while the food was being pumped, and the volume of his meals--around a litre and a half of slurry--meant that each feeding would be spread out in thirty second bursts, delivered semi-randomly over the course of an hour.

As I told him this, I undid my belt and began to masturbate. Despite the obvious temptations, I had not molested C3 in an overtly sexual manner since that first facial at the beginning of his captivity. By combining molestation with removal of autonomy, I wished to impress upon him the importance of obeying me with whatever autonomy I allow him to have.

I pressed the button on the feeding machine as I approached my climax. C3 squealed and gurgled like a drowning cat from the sensation of ice-cold sludge pumping through a tube in his sinuses and down into his throat, choking as the diameter of the tube expanded enough to cut off his breathing. He thrashed in his restraints with such force that he almost moved the gurney beneath him!

Seeing tears stream from his eyes was too much, and his eyes were precisely where I aimed. I landed a good few ropes on each eye, which he scrunched shut in disgust. When the tube stopped pumping I pried open his eyelids with my fingers and made sure a good quantity of my burning, stinging cum got in each eye, then smeared the rest across his face. He tried to blink it out, with little success, and before he could do much else I applied the padded blindfold. He hates and fears the eye-shutting pressure from the neoprene padding at the best of times, and wasn't overjoyed to wear it with his eyes gunked up with sperm.

He's been like that for the last three days, unable to move, speak or see, fed three meals a day through his nose. The only interaction he's had is when I've unrestrained his individual limbs and allowed them some movement, one at a time, to prevent bedsores and deep vein thrombosis, and when I come down to grope his sensitive tits. He is only able to relieve himself through the catheter and through enemas.

After a few days of stick, he's almost ready for the carrot. Tonight I am making pork carnitas with soft tacos, which he has told me is his favourite meal. I have also purchased one of the Harry Dresden books, which he told me he is an avid reader of. When dinner is ready, I will make him an offer: he will ask me for normal food and apologize for forcing me to use the feeding tube. In return he will be allowed out of his restraints and returned to his comfortable cage, along with his favourite meal and a good book, which he will be allowed to read during his spare time as long as he behaves himself.

I hope he accepts, for his sake and mine.

16 November 2018

C3 had his first true milking today! I've been teasing dribbles of milk from his nipples with my fingers for weeks, but today the volume was so high that I had to deploy a handheld breast pump. He whimpered for the duration but was obviously relieved by the reduction in pressure. It was as if he found the whole ordeal rather humiliating.

The milk is rich, a touch gamey, and less sweet than expected. I don't think the taste will be anything to write home about while his stress levels are so high, and I think that will be the case for some time. I've taken half for myself, and I'm mixing the other half into his food.

He's been docile since the force feeding. The intensity and inevitability of the punishment is part of it, but the rewards are equally important. My deal is that he can ask for anything once. Obviously I laugh at certain requests--he's not getting a phone or a two-way radio--and some things require compromise, but otherwise I have been accommodating. His cell now contains a lamp he can turn on or off, two dozen books and graphic novels, an old mp3 player, and a box of wet wipes. His relief from the constant boredom of being confined in a cage for twenty hours a day is palpable, and he has chosen the comfort that obedience brings over the misery that stems from disobedience.

He has asked if he'll ever be free from this basement and I truthfully said yes. One day he'll be walking around outside free of physical restraints and he will sleep at night in a bed he can truly call his own, though I'm unsure if he'll ever truly be free of me. He takes comfort in the fact that he has not yet seen my face or anything that might identify me, as he reasons that I am therefore not incentivized to bury him in a shallow grave to protect myself. His conclusion is correct but his premise is wrong; he'll know who I am eventually and I still won't fear him.

I'm currently milking him once per day regardless of his feelings on the matter, and I think this has hidden from him the fact that he now needs to be milked. Without his daily milkings the pain in his breasts would become unbearable, and soon he will develop mastitis if he's not milked. This will form another important part of his development: begging for things that are distasteful but necessary. With the exception of the wet wipes, there is nothing inherently humiliating in the things he's asking for. I believe he'll find begging to be milked intensely humiliating, and more humiliating still because of the tolls I'll extract from him when he goes down that road.

A brief note on his physical changes: his breasts are bigger but they remain C-cups for the time being. There are now a striking set of stretch marks on the sides and undersides of his breasts, along with some smaller, subtler ones on his thighs and buttocks which have also thickened up nicely. At some point I'm going to give him a regular schedule of retention enemas until he gets stretch marks on his belly befitting a pregnant little broodslut. His skin is delightfully soft and I'm shaving his face daily until the home electrolysis kit arrives. The combination of hormones, daily exercise bike sessions, and a lack of any upper body resistance training has changed his physique from a surfer's build to a more bottom heavy one.

As soon as I have finished writing this entry I am going to give him two gifts. The first gift is an ear piercing. It will be home to a yellow plastic tag, a miniature version of a cattle tag. The second gift is his name. He's not C3 anymore, and he's certainly not whatever stupid name he called himself before I acquired him. He has lovely tits and he's a milk cow, so his name will be Cowtits.

Cowtits. I think it suits him.

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harryandmeghansussex · 5 years

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The Great Kate Debate..

I'm going to get so much backlash for this but Zea and Laura made me share my thoughts on Kate's EYP.

Let me start with hi, I'm Becky, British born and raised, and working in the eduction sector. I've been a nanny, a hospital play coach and teaching in schools.

My first point before people jump down my throat is on the forefront I do very much agree with Kate and her pushing the importance of the early years. There are SO many studies about the development of early years, both positive and negative, nature v nuture, etc. And for sure there is more that can been done to benefit children massively.

My issue/issues with this are; 1. Don't announce you are doing something before actually doing something. I think the whole ~this is her biggest project/challenge yet thing meh :/

And now 2. This survey - which is the five questions, which are good questions and for the record, Ive answered them. Firstly why wasn't this done 16 month ago when she launched the project? To at this point be wanting information to guide her work? That should have happened ages ago. And secondly the data is going to be SO skewed down to the fact anyone can fill it in. It should have been national only imo, and over 18. I don't know, just parents, carers and people in that sector.

It's like my Dad likes planes and finds them interesting, he's got opinions on them but would I let him fly on? No, would I fuck. Because he doesn't have enough knowledge about it. I feel the same about the survey - collecting data is great, and needed. But meh could be done better.

Annnnd how it's been rolled out? The locations that are down to have visits I think could have been more varied 🤷🏻 it's the thinktank that's a tenner per entry, breakfast club and baby sensory.

I just think it could have been done better. What's the goal? To educate? To improve? To put procedures in place? I personally would have announced her interest - with a rough idea of what's going on; "The Duchess of Cambridge has long believed in the importance of the early years and how it can have long term affect as children grow into adults, and since becoming a mother herself, her interest in this area and her belief that all children deserve the best star in life has only grown. Together with experts in their fields, Catherine plans to explore this area through learning and understanding the difference areas of early years and hopefully will be able to use this to benefit children in future" - then the survey should have happened, and then the visits to low income areas, to hostels, to mummy and me groups, to nicu, to time with midwives, to children with additional needs, to schools, to play schemes, to meetings with teachers and experts. I don't know.

Get your data, get your hands on visits from all walks of life and then you've got something to show for it. At the moment it alls feels very... Princess Kate, The Children's Princess, look how much she cares 🤷🏻

Hey I'm just one person, and I'm sure she's got a team of people behind her and I'd be interested to read her findings and see what the scheme looks like in the end.

#i'm gonna delete this probably #i was talking with friends and they wanted me to share my thoughts #i don't usually post cambridge stuff / so sorry?

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part two) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part two: Jo picks up Y/N from the airport and doesn’t waste any time warning the intern for a notorious wrangler called Dean Winchester. When she arrives at Gold Canyon Ranch, she soon understands why. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Broken Halos’ - Chris Stapleton (car scene) and ‘No Good’ - Kaleo (saloon entry). (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

It stops raining just as suddenly as it started coming down, but the asphalt in front of the airport entrance still shimmers under the streetlights. Knowing that it's going to take at least forty-five minutes for her ride to arrive, Y/N treated herself to a cup of coffee from Starbucks, which she sips on while seated on her suitcase. Whenever a set of headlights approaches, she looks up hopefully, but up to now, all cars have passed by. With a bored sigh, she tucks her flat-ironed hair behind her ear and yawns, despite the caffeine she’s consuming. She checks her phone again. “Come on, already…”

When she looks up from the device, a black pickup pulls up to the curb. It triggers her to straighten her back and seek eye contact with the driver. As the car comes to a stop, a young woman has turned to look outside her downed passenger window. “Are you Y/N?” “Yes,” she responds a bit hesitantly as she rises. The driver grins and signals her to come closer. “Well, get in. I ain’t got all night!”

Y/N smiles back somewhat nervously, draws out the grip of her suitcase and rolls it to the side of the car. With difficulty, she manages to push the heavy load in the open cargo area, making sure not to scratch the paint or spill her coffee, after which she hastens to the passenger-door and gets in. Before she settles down, Jo picks up her ivory white cowboy hat from the seat and puts it down behind her, offering her passenger a place to sit. As she does so and closes the door, the driver holds out her hand. Y/N shakes it, surprised by the strength of the young woman’s grip. “Jo Singer,” she introduces herself. “Welcome on the Gold Canyon Ranch Express.”

While Jo steers the car back on the road, Y/N takes her in. She’s slender, not very tall, but the confidence she radiates makes up for that. She’s rocking the ripped jeans and western boots, a comfortable loosely knitted sweater covers the skin that her tank-top doesn’t. The young woman has plaited her hair in a messy braid which falls down from her left shoulder. With one hand at twelve o’clock on the wheel and the other casually hanging outside the door, she averts her focus from the road for a brief second, turning to her passenger.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait. Cattle just came in and Dad got a little caught up. He gets that way sometimes,” Jo apologizes as she lowers the volume of the radio. “That’s okay,” Y/N assures, holding up her coffee. “I had company.” “What is that, by the way? Do I smell cinnamon?” Jo eyes the coffee container as if it’s alien. “It’s a Cinnamon Dolce Latte,” Y/N states before taking a sip. “A what now?” Registering Jo’s expression, she sniggers. “Cinnamon, coffee, and milk, basically.” “Fancy.” The driver grins. “You’re from up north, right?” “Yeah. Freeport, Maine,” she elaborates. “It’s quite a change of scenery.” “I’ll bet,” the cowgirl behind the wheel reckons. “Ya’ll have pretty cold winters over there, huh?”

Curiously, the new girl looks over at Jo. The Southern charm in her voice is rich. Her accent has a lot more soul to it than the ones she picked up in the arrival hall and the coffee place back at the airport. Not even the local taxi drivers who were chatting as they waited for a ride sounded like Jo.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, answering the question after a beat. “Lots of snow too.” “You won’t ever be cold in Arizona, I can promise ya that, Yankee.” Y/N chuckles. “Yankee?” “That’s what us Southerners call Northerners,” she explains. “Better get used to it.” “I thought Arizona was considered the Southwest,” the intern says. Now it’s Jo’s turn to smirk, as she gives her a side-eye. “Aren’t you as smart as all get out? But you’re right. My folks are from the South. The ranch belonged to my grandpa back in the day. When he got too old to work the land, Mom and Dad moved in to help and took over when he passed. I was born and raised here in Gold Canyon, but what can I say? It’s hard to lose the slang when you’re around a bunch of Southerners.”

Jo continues to make small talk. Y/N doesn’t mind it, though. It’s nice to get to know the ranch owner’s daughter and at least there’s not an awkward silence dwelling in the old pickup. Easy conversation about the weather is soon traded for other subjects, like the ranch and the horses. “Dad mentioned you’re a reining rider. What level are ya?” Jo asks. “Debuted in Open a couple of months ago.”

She tries to stay modest, but a proud smile forms on Y/N’s lips anyway. Hours of practice and years of training have brought her to the highest level in reining sport. When the letter from the National Reining Horse Association came in to inform her of the promotion from Non-Pro to Open, she remembered being so excited that she ran through the house screaming high pitched and hugged her parents so tight, she almost suffocated them. It took hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, but she made it. It all paid off.

“Whoa, you must be pretty damn good then!” Jo responds, eyebrows raised, impressed. Y/N doesn’t really respond, not sure how to take the compliment. Instead, she looks down at the coffee container in her lap. “What about you?” “I’m not a reiner,” the cowgirl smiles. “I race barrel.”

Now, it’s Y/N’s turn to be fascinated. Surely, reining is an exciting discipline of horse riding, but barrel racing is a whole other ballgame. She always enjoys watching it at the rodeo. The speed, the acceleration, the tight corners around the barrels, beating the clock, every fraction of a second counting; it’s the definition of thrilling.

“What’s your PR?” she wonders. Jo looks at her sideways, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “16.1 seconds.” Y/N huffs, amazed. “That’s fast!” The ranch owner’s daughter shrugs it off. “I’ve got a very good horse.” “My grandfather taught me that a horse will never become extraordinary unless it’s matched with a skilled rider.” Jo smiles at those wise words and gazes at the road ahead.

The beams of the headlights reach out several yards in front of them. Everything beyond remains in the darkness of night. Although the rain stopped falling down on the dry and thirsty land, clouds still shield out the frail moon’s radiance. They left Metro Phoenix about ten minutes ago and Y/N can barely see what’s out there, but what she can see, captivates her. For a girl who has never been to the southwest of the US, it seems foreign, not from this planet even. A pair of tail lights glides down the straight two-lane freeway towards an invisible horizon, while a few lights on the mountains give an idea of the relief in the east. Dust, sand, and rocks alongside the road are all that she can make out, joined with tall cacti and small bushes every now and then. This is the first time she has seen a cactus in its natural habitat. She didn’t know they could grow that tall.

“You should stay away from those when you go on a trail, especially the little fluffy lookin’ ones,” Jo suggests, noticing her passenger’s amazement as she watches the cacti pass by. “There’s nothing fluffy about the damn things when you get too close. I’ve seen the most gentle and laid back horses go full bronc after running their ass into a ‘cholla’.” Y/N chuckles; she can imagine that happening. Appreciating the tip, she turns her attention back to the driver. “Any other good advice for my first day tomorrow?” She dares to ask, curious about what lies ahead. Jo smiles at her, appreciating her eagerness. The girl beside her isn’t the first rookie to ask her this. To her, it’s a sign of insecurity, one that comes along with the lack of experience.

“You didn’t do a lot of ranch work back in Maine, did ya?” she confronts. Out of balance, Y/N looks aside at the driver, then averts her gaze. The gentle expression on Jo’s face should tell her that she doesn’t intend to make her feel uncomfortable, but she can’t help herself from moving in her seat a little, lost for words. “How can you tell?” she replies shyly. “Your boots are too clean,” Jo grins, nodding at the intern’s feet.

Somewhat stunned, Y/N looks down at her shoes. Wanting to make a good impression, she polished the brown leather. Honestly, she spent more time cleaning them than she normally would before a show, but it might have been a better idea to leave them dirty. A blush warms her cheeks as she shakes her head slightly; apparently, she’s a little too eager to prove herself.

“You got me,” she admits. “You’re right, I lack experience when it comes to stable work. But I really want to learn.” Thankfully, Jo takes away the embarrassment and seems to appreciate her enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about it. We had workers who didn’t even know how to pick out a hoof, let alone ride a horse,” she reassures. “You’ll be fine. Keep your eyes and ears open, your head low and if there’s anything you need, you can always come to me.”

Slightly put to ease, Y/N smiles at her shiny boots. Jo is right; she will be okay. There is no need to be nervous about tomorrow, she’s not completely oblivious after all. And with the ranch owner’s daughter as her new ally, she feels confident enough to believe that she will manage just fine.

A moment of quietness follows as the young blonde takes the exit and directs the pickup onto Superstition Mountain Drive, leaving route 60 behind them. Soft music comes from the amplifiers, a country ballad bathing them in pleasant tunes. Despite her insecurities, Y/N feels comfortable with Jo by her side, and as she glances over at her, a future image of them becoming friends forms in her head. It doesn’t seem unlikely, not at all. Her wit, her confidence, the joy that she seems to have in everything she does; she can appreciate that.

“There is one other piece of good advice I’m gonna give ya,” Jo continues after a while. “And it’s very, very important that you stick to it.” Curious, Y/N waits for a follow-up, eager eyes on the blonde cowgirl in the driver’s seat who waits a couple more seconds, underlining the importance of her message. “Do not, under any circumstances, fall for Dean Winchester.”

A little underwhelmed, Y/N’s facial expression shifts from confused to amused. She scoffs, for a second thinking she’s joking. Jo’s dramatic build-up prepared for a line she was going to remember during the tough moments while staying at the ranch, so it’s a bit of a downer when it resulted in advice on men.

“Who’s Dean Winchester?” she asks, unimpressed. “He’s a wrangler at the ranch,” Jo enlightens her. “Also a shameless womanizer who has broken more hearts than I can count. That bastard lures gals into his bed like it’s a fucking competition. Or in the haystack, his truck, the restroom of the saloon. Whatever place he finds fit to hump somethin’.”

Y/N’s jaw drops, after which she covers her mouth to muffle her chuckle. And ten minutes ago they were talking about the weather. Well, that escalated quickly. “I’m serious,” Jo underlines, noticing the cynicism in her passenger’s laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not what I’m here for,” she assures the ranch owner’s daughter. “That’s what most of them say,” she returns, having heard this before.

For a second Y/N observes her co-driver as questions start to buzz around in her head. What are Jo’s motives? Might there be something more behind what seems like just good advice? “Did you…? Did you ever, you know…?” Insecurity overwhelms her once again, disabling her to form a proper sentence. A little confused, Jo looks over, but at the sight of Y/N’s raised eyebrow and a subtle smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, it suddenly dawns on her what she’s getting at. “What?! Oh, hell no!” She shudders in disgust. “Christ! He’s my cousin!”

Y/N eyes grow large when she realizes what she just implied, but then Jo snorts and they both burst out in laughter. How this conversation went from climate and desert flora to sex and men puzzles her completely, but she’s sure that she just gained a friend. When both of them can talk again after another convulsion of giggles, Y/N can’t help but wonder about this wrangler with a reputation.

“What’s so special about this Dean?” Jo wipes away tears that came running down her face in the uncontrollable laughing fit she endured. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She switches on the turning signal and turns left onto a long driveway. Fenced pastures stretch out on either side, running up towards the hills. Cows are chewing their roughage at the hayracks, but look up when the headlights of the Chevrolet captures them briefly as the car passes. Up ahead, a wooden sign arches over the road. ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ it says in bold capital letters. The pickup surfaces from underneath the sign and proceeds up the driveway, which fans out into a square. In front of a house - which is built from sandstone and has a red-tiled roof - Jo parks the car and turns off the ignition.

Amazed by the setting, Y/N gets out of the truck and takes it in. Several buildings, all in the same architectural style, surround the square as well. The soft and easing sounds of horses rummaging around in their stables originate from a large barn to the right of the family home. Then there’s that familiar and soothing smell of the farm, although the scent that’s reaching her senses now is sharper, more earthy than she’s used to up in Maine. Then another sound draws her attention; the sound of a cheerful crowd and country songs. Y/N looks over the top of the Chevrolet and watches Jo walk over to a building complex at the other end of the square.

“Leave your suitcase. Let’s fix us a drink first.” She hints at the saloon, from where the music is coming. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the bunch.” Y/N follows in a fast stride, forking her fingers through her hair and straightening it out quickly, then she tucks her checkered blouse into her jeans, even though she just decided that she was going to leave it hanging over her belt. This is ridiculous, she scolds at herself. Why are you so nervous?

She doesn’t have time to think about it, because when she’s about to catch up with Jo, the blonde swings open the double doors and makes her entrance. The musk of hard work mixed with beer and nicotine welcomes her, mingling with the lingering heat of the day. The music shifts to a new song, the guitars and a strong beat sounding through the space. Burning stares come her way as they walk into the saloon, making her feel like she got stuck in an old spaghetti western starring Clint Eastwood. Where is that cowboy to save her now?

“Look what I found out in the rain,” Jo jokes, casually putting an arm around Y/N’s neck. “Our Yankee!” Cheers rise from the group of men, glad that they made it back. Half-empty beer bottles litter the wooden surface of the table they are seated at; it’s clear that the party has been going for a while now, eyes getting hazy and laughs roaring louder. It’s a good thing that Jo basically drags her inside, because if she had been on her own, she would have frozen on the spot.

A middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair steps from behind the counter to meet them halfway. With a dish towel hanging over her shoulder, she approaches the new face, smiling genuinely. “Y/N, this is my mom,” Jo introduces. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Singer,” Y/N greets, humble, remembering her name from the email exchanges they had to arrange her internship. “Please, call me Ellen. Welcome. Make yourself at home, honey,” she says as her husband flanks her. “And this is my old man.” Jo pats him on the back, triggering a mutter. “I’m not that old,” he states, redirecting his attention to the new guest. “I’m Bobby. Nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout the delay.” “Oh, that’s alright,” Y/N smiles back at him, starting to feel more at ease.

The family seems really nice, but the group of men - which Y/N assumes is the ranch crew - still curiously lurks at her. Intimidated, she lets her eyes roam through the bar, trying not to stare. At home she had her brothers to back her up, their presence alone usually enough for guys to take a step back. But yet again she becomes painfully aware of the fact that she is on her own this time.

Her eyes glide over the workers and wranglers. At the far end of the table, a guy - who she guesses to be in his late twenties - looks back at her from under his cowboy hat. He has two poker cards in one hand and nurses a bottle of beer with the other, resting his strong forearms on the edge of the wood. Emerald green eyes seem to read her like an open book, taking her in with enough confidence in his expression to compensate for what she lacks. He puts his lips against the mouth of his beer bottle and takes a swig, slowly, without breaking eye contact. Did he really take his time or did her mind just process that in slow-motion? Suddenly aware that she’s staring, Y/N looks away and focuses on Jo again, who has continued the introduction.

“This is Ash, one of our wranglers and in charge of the cattle. Don’t let the hair fool ya, he’s a pretty swell guy under all the craziness.” She walks behind him, peeking into his cards. “Wow, you really just raised with a two and a three?” The guy next to Ash shoves two piles of chips forward, flashing the bluffer a big grin. Jo has settled between the two men, smirking at Ash’s annoyed face. Resting her folded arm on his shoulder, she turns her head and now puts a hand on her neighbor’s back. “Benny Lafitte. Best farrier in Arizona. Also, a master on the ground when it comes to starting young horses.” The man with a nicely trimmed beard tips his hat at Y/N, observing her with his blue eyes for a second before the ranch owner’s daughter moves on. “Over yonder is Garth. Wrangler and our man in the stables.” She nods at the fragile built guy with dark hair, who shyly looks up and greets the newcomer. “He’s harmless, great mounted shooter by the way.”

Jo straightens her back and folds her arms in front of her chest as she turns to her cousin. He doesn’t look back, though. His eyes haven’t left the new face, who forces herself to meet his gaze. After everything that Jo told her about this guy, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being the spectator for her discomfort and shyness. But my God, she gets why the girls swoon by the sight of him. He has great features, a few days old scruff adding to his strong jawline. Broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his jacket, his strong fingers running slowly up and down the smooth glass of the bottle. He looks like he just walked out of a Marlboro commercial, western hat and all. “And this is Dean,” Jo states simply, observing them both. As the guy in question takes another swig of his drink, he finally tears his eyes away from Y/N. The weight that was pressing on her chest is lifted and instantly she finds it easier to breathe. “What? No catchy intro for me?” he asks Jo. “Now, I know it’s hard to describe a man like me with words--” “Oh, I already described you just fine, Winchester,” she returns impudently. “Every girl about to encounter you deserves a fair warning.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that remark, not sure how to interpret the remark. His eyes flick back to Y/N again, startling her. She must have flinched, because her reaction ignites a grin. “You know us now, but what’s your name?” Dean asks, even though he is already aware. Pushing her self-consciousness out of the way, she speaks as clear as she can, not just addressing him, but the entire crew. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you all.”

When their gazes lock again, the cowboy’s smile grows a little wider and he flashes her a short and subtle wink. It’s close to unnoticeable, had she blinked she would’ve missed it, but she caught it, alright.

“Your turn, brother,” Benny calls for his attention on the game. Dean glances down at his cards once more. A pair of queens; surely he’s going along with the raise, but he doesn’t want to be obvious about his good hand. He shoves two stacks of chips forward to meet the stakes and waits for his friend’s response. Translating his expressions and possible tells, the blue-eyed wrangler stares back at him while dealer Garth unfolds the final card; a queen of hearts. Benny seems to ponder, but Dean doesn’t give him an inch.

The farrier throws in five more chips. “I raise with five hundred.” “One thousand,” Dean counters. Benny chuckles. He’s got to be bluffing, right? “Fine,” he agrees, adding five more to the pot as he throws down his cards on the table for his opponent to see. “A pair of Aces.”

A good hand indeed, but not good enough to win. Dean bites his lip, looks down at his cards, then back at the young woman that caught his eye. This time she’s prepared; Y/N doesn’t look away. All she does is stare back into those green orbs, standing her ground. Before it becomes obvious to the others in their company, Dean averts his gaze first. For Y/N it feels like a big win in this strange staring contest that started from the moment she walked in. The hand that Dean lays out on the table is his victory. Three of a kind just won him over three thousand chips. Interesting, how a queen of hearts in the last draw is the key to winning this game of cards.

“Well, shit!” Benny laughs, leaning back in his seat and admitting his defeat. “Guess the next round’s on me then.” “Let me pour you a drink, sweety,” Ellen suggests, bumping her shoulder into Y/N lightly. “You can use one after all that traveling.”

A heavy breath falls from her lips as she joins the ranch owner’s wife at the bar. Ellen isn’t wrong. Boy, she needs a drink, but not because of the long flight. The attention from Dean, him looking at her like he did; it’s unlike any attention she has ever received. It felt exciting and suffocating at the same time. Unable to truly understand what she is experiencing right now, Y/N thinks about what Jo said. The words she spoke in the car are starting to make sense now. The way this man has a grip on her since the moment she laid eyes on him, throws her off. He shouldn’t be having that effect on her, she’s not that kind of girl, after all. She’s the kind that keeps her eye on the ball and doesn’t let anything distract her. And if guys would try? She would give them a run for their money. With three brothers, Y/N learned to stand her ground in order to compete with her siblings. She developed a smart mouth and isn’t easily intimidated by men. But somehow all the lessons learned flew right out the window the moment Dean Winchester laid eyes on her.

“What are you having?” The one person who got her drowning in her thoughts settles on a stool on her right. She glances aside at Dean, who has a gentle smile on his surprisingly plump lips. “A beer would be great.” She turns to Ellen, who is waiting by the fridge for an answer. The wrangler puts up two fingers as he makes contact with his aunt behind the counter, signaling her to double it. Skillfully, she flips the caps off the bottles and hands them over. “Here ye go. On the house,” she insists, her expression gentle. “Thank you,” Y/N returns gratefully with a slight nod of the head.

As Ellen Singer leaves to join her husband, Y/N is forced to deal with the guy in the seat next to her. Conflicting emotions battle each other inside her chaotic mind. Working on this ranch is going to show her Dad that she can build a company worth his investment. It will teach her everything she needs to know about ranch work. She made an agreement with herself that she is going to use every second of her time to learn. Wasting it by fooling around with one of the wranglers does not fit in her schedule and it certainly isn’t going to deliver the message that she’s taking this internship seriously. But she cannot deny that a part of her is curious about this cowboy. He ignited a downright confusing interest, all that with a few lingering stares and a couple of words.

When she glances aside at the handsome man, elbows on the bar while holding her beer loosely by its neck, Jo moves into her peripheral vision. With a stack of plates in her hands, the blonde cowgirl enters the area behind the counter and continues to the kitchen, but not before shooting her new friend a glare that asks her what the hell she’s doing and tells her to stop it right now. Jo’s good advice fights its way to the surface and Y/N’s common sense takes over again. Dean didn’t take a seat because he likes her, he took that seat because he wants to get laid tonight.

“So--” he starts off. “Just let me get one thing straight,” Y/N interrupts, “I’m here to learn about the ranch management, not to entertain you during lonely moments. You might be able to wind any other girl around your finger, but not me, so forget it.” It’s out there before she’s able to stop herself. She doesn’t fully understand where the words came from and how she managed to gather the courage to speak up, but the harsh message is out, hovering between them and throwing her admirer off his game. Jo - who spied on them from around the corner - seems impressed and smirks, amused, before disappearing again.

She’s not the only one who is left stunned. Dean has raised his eyebrows and needs a moment to recover. “In my defense, I was gonna ask you if you were looking forward to your first day tomorrow,” he says with a chuckle, rubbing his chin. “I like to set boundaries,” she states, taking a swig of her beer. “Apparently.” Dean clears his throat, collecting himself before he speaks a little lower. “Good thing I like to break them.”

The charismatic man has turned towards her now, his hand holding the beer resting on the counter. He’s not hiding that this hard-to-get demeanor actually intrigues him more. His arrogance, on the other end, only fuels Y/N’s persistence to shut his attempt down. “It wouldn’t really be breaking boundaries if I’m just a number on the long list of girls you picked up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day and tomorrow probably isn’t going to be much shorter, so I’m going to get some sleep.”

With those words, she knocks back the last of the beer and leaves the bottle on the bar. Before he can stop her, she hops off her stool. “I’ll show you the way,” Jo offers, surfacing from the backroom again. With a suppressed grin on her lips, she passes Dean, who watches the two girls walk away from him, flabbergasted.

It’s then when the puzzle pieces fall in place. That little bitch... Jo just cockblocked him! He bets his lovely cousin told all about his intermezzos with some of the women that have passed through these doors. She just ruined a perfectly good chance to get together with the new girl.

Without giving him one more second of her time, Y/N starts to walk towards the exit of the saloon, followed by Jo. “G’night, everyone.” They all reply, either with words or by waving, all but Dean. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, turning on the stool to meet his beer again. It doesn’t happen very often, but his pride has taken quite a punch. When he looked at the woman that had him do a double-take when she walked through those doors, he could have sworn he saw her react to him. Maybe you’re getting sloppy, he thinks to himself. Maybe you’re getting too old for this shit.

No, that can’t be it. Just because he’s heading towards those dreadful thirties, doesn’t mean he has to change the way he plays this game. Benny is half a decade older than him, he still lives like a bachelor and will most likely do so for the rest of his days. The intern probably has some history that causes her to act this way, a backpack full of misery; not something he wants to deal with anyway. Too complicated, at least that what he’s tries to convince himself of.

“Hey, amigo? What’s that on your face?” Ash looks over at the bar, observing the man who just got rejected. He shuffles the cards for the last game of the night. “Oh, I see it too,” Garth acknowledges, pretending to be shocked by the sight. “That doesn’t look so good.” Dean feels his cheek and casts a confused gaze at his friends as Benny starts to snigger. “That’s one ugly lookin’ red handprint that’s swelling up, man,” Ash continues.

Garth giggles, his laughter coming out in a high-pitched sniggering sound. By now Dean gets what’s going on and rolls his eyes. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these assholes. “That’s gotta hurt, Chief. Want me to get some ice for that?” Benny adds, sparkles in his bright blues. “Y’all can kiss my go-to-hell,” Dean mutters, unable to appreciate the banter.

Now all three burst out in laughter and even Bobby can’t help but join in a full belly laugh. After the fun, Benny gets up from his chair and walks over to fill the empty spot beside him. “I think this is a good thing,” he comments, his accent as gentle as Southern comfort. “It'll keep you sharp, a gal like that.” “She’s quite somethin’, isn’t she?” Dean smiles at his drink. “She ain’t easy, that’s for sure,” he agrees. “Good thing she ain’t the only lady friend in town.”

Benny redirects Dean’s eyes to a beautiful dark-haired woman at the pool table. Casey is a guest that enjoys her time at the ranch every holiday, especially since most of that time is spent with a certain wrangler. She must have arrived just now, because he didn’t notice her earlier. Or was that because his eyes and mind were too occupied by someone else? It doesn’t matter, because when Casey makes eye contact before pocketing the striped number thirteen, the sexual tension between them is already stirring up. He might not spend the night between the sheets with Y/N, but he will be satisfied by the end of the night either way.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part three here

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nenestansunsthings · 5 years

Text

you know what screw it. it’s february five somewhere. i know i’m late but technically it counts.

entry for glass week! prompt: age

At six, Lara Glass knows something is wrong with her family.

She’s fairly sure that other people’s parents shouldn’t disappear. She knows they shouldn’t come back with blood on their hands or the splattered IDs of people she doesn’t know or a new story to tell about a raid gone wrong or right. She knows for a fact that they shouldn’t be trying to teach her to want the same.

Lara doesn’t want the same. She doesn’t want a legacy of blood on her hands. But the way her parents talk about it makes her think she shouldn’t say that in front of them.

So she stays quiet, and watches her brother believe in their stories, and wonders if she should believe, too.

II.

At eleven, Lara Glass learns about the Foundation.

She learns about the Chaos Insurgency first, of course-- her mother is part of that-- and she learns about the Serpent’s Hand that her father works in, but at the heart of it she learns about the Foundation. Her parents call them the Jailers. She wonders what that must mean to them.

What kinds of people would call a jail protection? Why jail when you could kill?

“It’s torture,” Daniel tells her one night, as their parents lie asleep. “It’s a way to punish them for being different.”

“I mean...” Lara fidgets under her sheets. “It’s not just about difference. It’s specifically the differences that kill people, and that make the world dangerous. If that difference kills people, isn’t it right? You’ve heard of the things mom and dad have seen. Aren’t they dangerous, too?”

“Then you could just kill them,” Daniel says simply. “If they can’t be safe for others, then kill them.”

Lara winces. Her brother would fit well in the Global Occult Coalition. His tone is determined, far too sure to continue talking with. He notices the reaction and frowns.

“What? Do you think it’d be better to be locked up forever?” Daniel scoffs. “You’re a coward, Lara.”

She wonders at his reaction even as he falls asleep. Because the answer seems clear to her.

Life, she thinks, would always be better. It can always be made better.

If her brother thinks it’s cowardly, if her family thinks it’s cowardly...

That can’t be right.

III.

At sixteen, Simon Glass-- a name that feels much more right-- has his first meeting with the Foundation. It goes surprisingly well.

The person he meets is named Paradox. Or, at least, that’s the name he tells him. Paradox was sent to contain an unknown anomalous object that had been causing spontaneous discorporation in the area. He needed to contain it, to keep people safe.

Simon knew full well where that object was. It was in his father’s study, guarded by the agent’s vigilant eye.

Paradox frowns when Simon tells him. But he thanks Simon anyway before he leaves.

He comes back a week later. This time, there’s a whole team with him. Simon panics when he sees them. When he sees their weapons, the damage they pose.

“Give me an hour! I’ll get them out of the house! Just--”

Simon shakes his head.

“Just please don’t hurt them.”

Paradox’s team looks hesitant. But Paradox himself agrees.

Simon takes everyone out to see the movie being shown nearby. And when they come back, their house has been robbed.

IV.

At eighteen, he’s become a bit of a Foundation spy. It’s work he believes in. Work he likes. Better yet, it’s work he knows will help the world.

At twenty, his parents find out. And Simon is removed.

Simon would say disowned, but he’d very quickly needed to avoid a series of hitmen and agents, both Insurgent and Hand, so he suspects that removal is meant to be permanent.

He only has one place to turn. And the Foundation knows it.

“You’re getting a doctoral, right?” Paradox asks once, after he’d found him hiding out in a hotel room after another team had been dispatched. “There are some colleges in Foundation territory we can transfer you into. I’ll put in a good word for you with my superiors. You said you’d like to work for us, before. Does that sentiment still stand?”

“... I think it does.” At the heart of it, the Foundation’s still doing good work. It’s work he wants to believe in. “It’d be nice to finish college.”

“I’ll get you a referral.”

And Paradox does.

Simon graduates ten years later, a degree in psychology under his belt.

VI.

“He’s an Insurgent’s son--”

“--parents in the Serpent’s Hand, in the Chaos Insurgency--”

“--can we trust him? Can we--?”

“--a spy, he was a spy, he could be a spy--”

“I’m not! I would never!” Simon’s thirty-one now, doubted, furious. “I’ll prove I’m loyal! Watch me!”

And he’s sent out with a gun in his hands.

VII.

“Stop it, Simon.” Paradox’s hands grip his wrists tightly. They’re shaking. Simon is shaking. “Look at you. You can’t do this anymore. I can’t let you.”

“Really, Dox,” Simon slurs, tears draining from his eyes. Alcohol is cursing furiously through his system. “You’re going to fight me on this? On my birthday? Do we have to do this on my birthday?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Si.” His friend shakes his head, steadying him. “You have to leave. You can’t spend the rest of your life as an agent. You hate it. You hate every bit of it.”

“But how?” Simon asks. “How can I leave? How can I ever stop being this- this mess? This person? I’ve killed people, Dox. I can’t go back now. There’s no way I could be anything else.”

“I’ll help you,” Paradox answers. “I’ll help.”

And he does.

Simon’s thirty-three when he forgets he was ever an agent.

VIII.

At thirty-six, Simon is the head psychologist of Site 19, and the Head of Psychology of the Foundation.

It’s work he believes in. It’s a life he wants to live. And it is a life he will keep living.

#i wrote this at school so it's honestly kind of a mess #but i like it #dr. simon glass week #dr glass #scp foundation #PLEASE tell me if i portrayed anything in a way that's offensive #specifically about glass being trans?#also #ask to tag #this is also kind of fitting for day 1: backstory #but i missed that day! so!#headcanon that simon can't remember being a field agent #it's in his file but it's stated in a few tales that he has no combat training #so i thought #hmmmm....

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mychemicalficrecs · 4 years

Note

lookin for any ship (no w*ycest oh god) but for it to be a historic / not modern au! ive read quite a few of the popular ferard ones, but I cant find them anymore so feel free to include those. longer ones would be preferable, and i dont mind if they include other things like vampires or like.. pirates or somethin. thank u so much!!!!

Hi Nonny!

First things first: This is a blog for all ships. I'll answer your ask this time, but from now on asks that hate on a ship will be deleted. It's perfectly fine to dislike a ship and want it excluded from a list you're requesting, but you can be neutral about it.

With that out of the way: This Frank/Gerard Historical AUs list might be interesting to you as well!

Historical AUs (Misc. Ship Edition)

Bury Me In Memory by Acadjonne, Ray/Gerard, 27k, Teen And Up Audiences. Since losing his wife, Ray has done everything he could to raise his daughter Grace on his own. His brother-in-law Gideon, however, somehow always finds ways to complain about Ray and his parenting abilities. Despite this, Ray is determined not to let Gideon get the best of him. A chance meeting with author Gerard Way may change things, however, as the two soon begin to develop an attachment to each other, though neither does anything about it. Gerard is too preoccupied with making a grand statement about it, and Ray is too afraid of how it might affect Grace if Gideon were ever to find out. One misplaced paper, however, may be the unraveling of an important and well kept secret; one which could bring Ray’s entire life crashing down around him.

If I Fall by GALEXY, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Gerard, Christa/Ray, Kristin/Mikey, 25k, Mature. “Jersey boys, huh?” The officer looked the five of them over before jerking his chin towards a table near the entry way. “Go on.” As they walked away, the blonde one—they later came to know him as Bob—sighed and muttered “I’m from Chicago” under his breath.

Gunpowder and Lead by prophetic, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Frank/Gerard, 53k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank and Gerard made it through their first cattle drive together, but now Frank is gone and Gerard doesn’t know what to do. His gut tells him Frank’s disappearance has something to do with the preacher man. Turns out, Lindsey is looking for the preacher man too, but she won’t say why. Gerard has reasons enough to hate the man, but Lindsey has more—reasons that stretch back into her family, her childhood, and what brought her out west in the first place. She wants what he owes her—she wants revenge. American Western, set in the 1880s.

In Firmer Chains, Our Hearts Confine by doctorkilljoy, Grant/Gerard, 37k, Explicit. Former musical composer and current writer Gerard Way is a sensation of the musical and literary scenes of 1800s London. But after struggling for ages with his new book, he’s close to giving up. Until he receives an offer from Grant Morrison himself; to go to his manor in Scotland and work on his novel in peace. Gerard seizes upon the chance immediately. Grant, however, has a dark secret he’s desperately trying to keep hidden. And Gerard has a few of his own.

GHOST OF YOU by wentz, Mikey/Pete, 13k, Mature. he spends a lot of time thinking about gaps... gaps in time, gaps in space. the gap between the hem of mikey’s t-shirt and the waistband of his pants when he stretches his arms over his head. gaps in teeth, gaps in narratives. gaps of silence between gunshots. mostly he thinks about the wide, wide gap of the atlantic ocean and the war waiting on the other side.

Lead Me Home by wordslinging, Frank/Gerard, Grant/Gerard, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 34k, Explicit. When Grant finds an unconscious young man on the edge of his country estate, he takes him in and nurses him through the fever that develops, only to find when the fever breaks that his guest has completely lost his memories. With only a first name--Gerard--and evidence that he's escaped from some sort of danger, Grant and Gerard begin a search for his identity, all the while finding themselves drawn closer to each other. When they make contact with Gerard's family--including his father's ward, a young man named Frank--their situation becomes even more complicated.

amnesiaverse by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Grant, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 45k, Explicit. Written for prompt number five of the yobrothatssick challenge: One foggy, wet afternoon, a mysterious young man collapses on the doorstep of Lord Morrison's manor. He does not remember his name or how he came to be there, but he does not seem that unfamiliar to Gerard, Lord Morrison's ward...

Below the Trees, Which Are Below the Stars by alpheratz, Frank/Mikey, Ray/Gerard, 38k, Explicit. In the mid-1920s, Gerard and Mikey moved to France - Gerard to pursue art, Mikey because he couldn't stay behind. Now, it's 1930, and Mikey's become an airmail pilot, flying the mail route to Dakar with his navigator Frank. For a long time, the only rough thing about Mikey's life was the strain on his and Gerard's soulbond when Mikey was away, but his growing feelings for Frank and the arrival of Frank's old friend Ray could change everything.

1930s Dragverse by wordslinging, Frank/Gerard, Grant/Gerard, 45k, Mature. It's the last year of Prohibition, and bootlegger Frank Iero wants to sever his ties to the world of organized crime and go straight, but his mob connections have other plans for him. No one would like to see Frank get away from the mob more than Gerard, but he's got problems of his own--like the fact that he's a cross-dressing cabaret singer constantly struggling to keep his true identity secret from those who can't be trusted. With the help of a devoted brother, a detective who just might be as trustworthy as he claims, and a wealthy, eccentric Scotsman who features prominently in Gerard's past, Frank and Gerard just might be able to get out and start a new life together, but it's not going to be easy. A tale of gangsters, garter belts, love (hopefully) overcoming all obstacles, and a whole lot of coffee.

in sickness and in health by mwestbelle, Bob/Jamia, Bob/Frank/Jamia, Frank/Jamia, 16k, Explicit. WWII AU in which Bob married his fallen comrade's wife out of duty, but Frank is not so fallen.

Fic: The End of the Beginning (PG-13) by tuesdaysgone, Lindsey/Gerard, Bob/Gerard, Lindsey/Alicia, Lindsey/Bob, Lindsey/Bob/Gerard, Alicia/Gerard, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Prompt #413 - post WWII fic where MCR are returned to the US in varying states of physical/mental hurt. Gee has his wife to go back to, but also has to face Alicia, and while he's managed to come to terms with Mikey's death with the help of his unit, he feels pretty guilty for letting Alicia's husband die. Lyn and Alica are strong women in the workforce (overalls and mechanics!). They all deal with their pain and trauma together. A billion bonus points if MCR made pacts to *look after* their wives if something happened to them, and Alicia refuses to be a charity case, and it all turns into 50s secret swinging GSF.

Fic: These Elegant Crimes (R) by tuesdaysgone, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Greta Salpeter, Frank/Greta Salpeter/Gerard, 33k, Mature. Gerard Way inherits a title and a seat in the House of Lords and decides to Save Lives Through Legislation. He also paints portraits, collects strays, and occasionally commits felonies in his spare time. A Victorian AU.

Undertow by silentdescant, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Gerard, 35k, Mature. Frank lost his ship, his crew, and his best friend in one violent storm. When he washes up on an island, he has to learn how start living again. Time passes, and he thinks he's settled down and moved on, but then he rescues a woman from the sea and in caring for her, realizes he hasn't fully recovered from his own shipwreck. Frank quickly comes to depend on her and though he starts to live again, he doesn't want to live without her. Vaguely-historical AU.

A Gentleman's Agreement by mahoni (orphan_account), Bob/Brian and other band ships, 56k, Explicit. Brian buys and sells unicorns and bicorns for the titled and wealthy. When Bob's stepfather defaults on a debt he owes Brian, he uses Bob as barter to pay the debt off. Brian and Bob agree that their arrangement will be a marriage on paper only, that Bob will run Brian's stables and the relationship will remain strictly professional. But despite Bob's trust issues and Brian's propensity for drinking a lot instead of dealing with how he feels, their mutual affection for Brian's horses breaks down the walls between them. With a little help from Brian's friends and his possessed house, they begin to fall in love.

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healersworld · 4 years

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Labourers in White Coat

It's 3 in the morning. And I'm tired. My legs hurt. My back hurts. I have a severe headache. My heels… oh… they are so tender that I can't touch them on the ground anymore. So basically I'm toe walking now. I'm a doctor and have been working as a general surgery resident for the last one year. And today I'm serving in emergency room which is usually a twenty four to thirty hours shift starting from 8 a.m. to the noon next day. Around 2 to 3 a.m., we (the doctors working in ER) take turns to sleep for two to three hours to gain strength to work for leftover cases in the next morning. I've been dealing with patients of various surgical issues all day but the ER is quiet now. There are no more patients and we are sitting on our chairs, tired, at the brink of falling apart, praying that PLEASE GOD, DON'T SEND ANYMORE PATIENTS. I look at the clock at the wall in front of me. It's my turn to sleep and I just want to lie on bed and never get up. Just to think about sleeping at this hour of night makes me relax a little bit. But for the last few hours, I'm feeling stomach ache, probably because of something I ate earlier. So I decide to take a little walk outside the ER before I sleep. I go out, pace a little, listen to the silence of the night, see the guards sitting on the chairs with their heads hanging down their necks in sleep, find the attendants of the patients snoring in their self-made beds over the muddy ground. I walk to the cafeteria a few yards away and sit on a chair spreading my legs on another chair. I close my eyes, lean backwards against the backrest of the chair with my head resting on it and feel lightened and vulnerable, and I'm afraid that if I sit here like this for an another few minutes, I would fall asleep and nobody could wake me up, not even the angels-of-waking-people-from-sleep (if such things exist). So I forcefully open my sleepladen eyes, pull my head up and contain my legs. But I'm still not ready to go back in ER because of the stomach ache which is kind of getting harsh now. I look at my cell phone. It's 3:15 a.m. Fifteen minutes of my sleeping hour have already been gone. If I sleep, probably my pain will go away. I shouldn't waste anymore of my precious time because I have to be back at 6:00 (after two hours and forty five minutes). Each single minute of sleeping hour is like a diamond and losing more minutes will be like losing more of my fortune. And while I'm thinking of saving diamonds, an ambulance pulls up in front of ER. The back door of the ambulance opens. The paramedics pull one stretcher out and then another one. These are two patients in one ambulance. So something isn't right. Then again whenever an ambulance pulls up in front of an ER, it's never right. And there's always an element of doubt that the patient might not be in severe condition. But two patients in a single ambulance at 3:15 a.m., it's definitely not right. I'm still sitting in the cafeteria watching this entire picture with the knowledge that my colleagues will handle. Those two patients are still on their way in through the door that another ambulance pulls up. Paramedics pull the stretcher out. By looking at the attendants of the previous two patients following this patient, I assume that these three patients are related to each other which means something disastrous has happened.

Okay. Enough! I can't sit anymore. I run to the ER.

The whole view of the trauma station has changed. Before I left, it was all quiet and peaceful, and now it's all uproarious and swarming with people. And that's the thing about working in ER, the situation is unpredictable. Nothing is for sure. One minute it's peace; another minute it's hell. I come to know that they are firearm cases. I see my colleagues tending to the patients. But their hands are full. They need help! I look at the clock, it's 3:20 a.m. already. I'm losing more diamonds and I'm tired and having stomach ache and my whole body is crying for rest. But I can't go to sleep now. Can I? Losing all my fortune is worth saving their lives. I buckle up. I put on gloves, cover my face with the mask and tend to those patients. Among the patients is one male in his thirties having multiple firearms in his left leg and a firearm shot in his chest. Damn! It is going to take whole night now just to manage this one patient. Firearms in different body parts are a sign of how much time it’s going to take. If they are in the limbs, there isn't much time it would take to manage unless an artery has been breached which is going to take a whole lot of your time. And if there's a fracture, it's out of my domain (because I’m a general surgeon). It's going to go to orthopedic, and that's a relief. If the firearm is in the chest, the time it would take depends where in the chest the bullet has made its entry. In some cases, the bullet is just beneath the skin over the ribs and that wouldn't take much. And in some cases, passing a chest tube will do the trick. And in others, you may have to cut open the chest, and that can give you the idea about the time it would take. If the firearm is in the abdomen, that's a red flare. It means we are going to cut open the patient and depending upon the damage inside, it takes about three to six hours of your time. If the firearm is in the neck, it's another red flare. And if it's in the head, it's again out of my domain and it's going to go to neurosurgery. And that's a relief too!

This man in his thirties is in my care now. He's conscious. Breathing. Responding to my commands. By looking at his chest wound, it seems like the bullet is just under the skin. That's a good thing and it has saved me from going through a whole lot of trouble. I count six holes in his leg. Probably three bullets have pierced their way in. And by looking at the contour of his leg, there's definitely a fracture. I check his distal pulses and feel the vibrations of his vessels over my fingertips. They are intact. Thank goodness! So this case is going to orthopedic, but his vitals are gradually dropping. His BP is falling. He's tachycardiac and sweating. He has lost a lot of blood through the holes in his leg. Before sending him to ortho, I have to resuscitate him first and make him vitally stable. And I need blood for that. I run to his attendants and ask them to arrange it as soon as possible. As I wait for the blood, I ask nurse to pass IV line and start fluids. That will give the patient enough time to survive until the blood is arranged. A few minutes later, I come to know that this patient has a blood group AB negative and nobody in his family is a match. And they are a long way from home. About a hundred kilometers away.

I'll be damned!

This blood group is so rare that people who have this type of blood group are just 0.36% of the world population. Of all the types of blood groups, this patient had to be AB negative. And I live in a country, where there are blood banks but still it is the family of the patient who has to arrange the blood. I go into a state of temporary paralysis. I'm standing still, deprived of sensations, not knowing what to do next and this is the worst kind of feeling when you are losing control. When everything is going out of your hands. And then suddenly, I break. I holler! I holler

at the attendants that do whatever the hell you can to arrange the blood because I'm not losing this patient tonight. I have seen so many people losing their lives in this same ER because they couldn't get the blood in time. I'm angry. I'm helpless. And now I'm sweating and can feel my heart jumping in my chest. I check his vitals every 5 minutes. My eyes are fixed at the monitor, beeping at his head side, showing his pulse and his oxygen saturation. His systolic blood pressure is in 80s now. Pulse is revolving around 120. He's shivering. Hypothermic. Confused. Slowly closing his eyes. I shake him every two minutes to make him stay awake. All this is

happening in front of me and I can't do anything about it. I'm losing him and I can't do anything about it! And in that moment, when I have done everything I could, I close my eyes and pray which I haven't done in a long time.

OH DEAR GOD, SAVE THIS MAN. DON'T MAKE HIS CHILDREN SPEND THEIR LIVES WITHOUT A FATHER. DON'T MAKE HIS WIFE SPEND HER WHOLE LIFE WITHOUT A HUSBAND. OH DEAR GOD, SAVE THIS MAN BECAUSE HE'S TOO YOUNG TO DIE NOW. BECAUSE HE STILL HAS SO MUCH LEFT TO SEE OF THIS WORLD. OH DEAR GOD, SAVE THIS MAN FOR IF HE IS SAVED, I'LL BE SAVED.

While I'm holding this man's hand, praying to the Almighty, my heart still pounding, my body still sweating, I hear a voice.

THE BLOOD IS HERE!

WHAT?!

AB negative?

How is that even possible? I don't know how the family arranged it, but they did it and I'm grateful. The blood is transfused. I monitor the patient's vitals every five minutes. An hour later, he's getting better. He's no more confused. No more shivering. His BP is coming up. His heart is going back to normal. He’s slowly opening his eyes. I'm relieved. I'm thankful. I'm happy! I see his family and tell them that he'll be okay, that they need not to worry anymore. Their melancholic faces have a new look now. They are blooming. And to see them like this makes me feel proud. When he's fully stable, I patch his wounds up and shift him to orthopedic bay for the orthopedic surgeons to deal with his fracture. My work with him is finished. I look at the clock, it's 07:00 a.m. I've lost all my diamonds. My pockets are empty but my heart is alive and filled with solace. I'm tired but kind of feel rested. I'm having body aches, but they are not killing me. My stomach ache has gone. I'm no more sleepy.

I'm a doctor and this is my life. I chose to live this life because when I was ten years old, I fell down the stairs and had a laceration on my knee which hurt like hell. I was taken to a hospital and the doctor stitched my wound and gave me medicine to relieve my pain. I was new again in a few days. I had no more gap in my knee. There was no more pain. All of it made me wonder about the life I was going to live. I was going to save lives as my profession! And here I am now seventeen years later in a hospital stitching people wounds, relieving their pain, saving their lives. It's just one incident I have mentioned here which occurred during a few hours of this night and I deal with these kinds of situations every day. I try to save people. Some I do, others I lose. And it's not just me. I have my colleagues here who work day and night, sacrifice their sleep, their comfort to save lives. We are just like the labourers. The difference is that they are in ragged clothes building houses brick by brick for the people to live and we are the labourers in white coats saving lives of those people.

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thewrongjackpot · 5 years

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Pidgeot used Whirlwind

Last few days have completely spun me around. I had my third round of chemo this past Thursday, and that in itself went fine. Afterwards, much else started to take a different turn. First of all, there were issues with my re-feeding because I went essentially from eating barley 400 calories a day (if that) to working up over three days to about 2200 calories in a full day. My labs showed some issues with my electrolytes and a couple other things. I had to drop my feeding to almost a fourth of that, and had to go back in for labs on Sunday.

Sunday is where things get… interesting. I went in for labs, which should have been a 20 minute visit, and we could head back home. I brought up with the nurse that the area surrounding my PICC line looked a little red and there seemed to be some kind of white gook around the catheter. They thought it looked questionable too. So I had to have blood cultures and cultures of the entry site taken. Thinking it could be some kind of infection, I had to go down to the ER for it to be evaluated. What came of it was that more blood had to be drawn, and my PICC line had to get pulled. YUP. I had this thing for barely three weeks. I have absolutely no idea how this even happened, but my line was pulled. UGH. I was and still extremely frustrated that I have to get another one placed because I still can’t be sedated because it’s still not safe (more fun expansion on that to come). Getting the PICC placed sucked. SUCKED HARD. Next, we had to wait to see if I could just go home with some antibiotics or if I had to be admitted. And just my luck, on SUPERBOWL SUNDAY, may I add, I had to be admitted when we already had Superbowl plans because we’re still normal Americans.

So I mainly had to be admitted because they needed to administer antibiotics by IV, which they had to throw one into my arm because bye bye PICC line. They also needed to watch for fevers for me because I ran one in the ER, and I ran one that night. Initially I was supposed to be admitted only until Tuesday so long as I no longer had a fever for more than 24 hours (which I didn’t), and my cultures came back clear for 48 hours (which they did).

BUT NO, apparently with me, it’s never been that simple lately. Life has been loving throwing some curveballs. I saw my main doctor on Monday, and we talked (well mainly she talked, I wrote and grunted). We discussed how it seemed like this newer piece in the front of my mouth has been growing pretty rapidly, and it seems the golf ball has been shifting. Despite little pieces of the tumor flaking off here and there, it seems that to some degree, my tumor is still getting bigger, despite what was hoped for. Also, on Monday, I started feeling like I was having more trouble breathing because I was having thicker mucus that seemed to be stuck behind the golf ball. I couldn’t really swallow it or spit it out entirely, so it was causing me some breathing problems.

So the rest of Monday went like this. I met with an ENT surgeon so she could get a better grasp on my story. She then brought a scope and another surgeon. The purpose of this was to see if in the case of an emergency, they could get a breathing tube in me. The answer is yes, they could. Next, I went and got more MRIs. I tried to tough it as long as I could on my back, but it got to the point where I could not breath. So we got creative, and I was on my side, and they could finish off the rest of the imaging. My doctor came back after they got the MRI results, and yes indeed some areas, especially in my mouth, have still grown significantly, and the golf ball was moving more to the right and back. So I was meeting with the radiologist the following day because they needed to attack this more aggressively, and they feel very confident that this tumor will respond very well to radiation. Lastly, to top it off I was made aware that also in the event of an emergency, ICU has been made aware of my situation, and may talk to me...just in case. OH! And my intended two day stay because of the new changes has now turned into ONE WEEK. I’ll get into this shortly.

Tuesday, day 3 of this nonsense. So now since the plans have drastically changed, the biggest reason I’m being kept so long is because with me about to start radiation, in the beginning, the tumor will sometimes get bigger before it starts to shrink. This is not ideal for someone who’s golf ball is definitely playing around with the joys and luxuries of breathing. They had also started me on a steroid on Monday to help combat some of that swelling, which on Tuesday, some current swelling went down. The radiologist was in the building earlier in the morning and stopped by (he’s not at this hospital, but in the same system and in a different building down the road). He told us I would be starting radiation today. We got transported there at 11:30, and we didn’t come back til almost 6pm. We talked to the doctor, and he showed up the MRIs with comparisons to the imaging in January, and in that time my mouth portion grew significantly. The portion creeping near my brain grew some, but not much. Not bad, but not great either. For now they’re just using regular (photon beam) radiation as they’re currently focused on my mouth with a short term plan, then in the following weeks they’ll come up with a more complex plan, and possibly switch me over to the proton beam radiation. Radiation is currently set to take place for 7 weeks, Monday - Friday concurrently with chemo. Next, they did a simulation first and made this mask to go over and keep my head in the same place for the treatment. They found a way for me to get propped up just enough that I could still breathe during the whole thing. We had about 4 hours of down time until the actual radiation treatment again. The nurse was super nice because mom winked at her, and she let us stay in the room. I even napped some. Total life saver instead of having to stay in the waiting room that long. The actual treatment is very quick, maybe 20, possibly 30 minutes long. I didn’t feel a thing, but afterwards, you could see the redness on my skin. We got back to the hospital afterwards. Last major thing to happen was the whole main ICU team came up here to talk more about emergency procedures and get introduced to one another.

Finally, this leaves me here, sitting in my bed, on my laptop, past 2am on what is now Wednesday. I’m going to get a new PICC line placed today before I get a fun five days in a row of chemo beginning Thursday.

Anyways, I thought the other week was crazy, but this week is way more nuts. However, I'm just going with the flow of whatever and enduring what needs to be to get fixed. I trust in the process and the doctors. And this point, I feel like I've endured a good amount, that these extra morning pokes for blood don't even phase me since I dont have a line to just grab blood easily. I've been through worse at this point.

Hope all of your first week of February has been going better.

P.S. I’m bald now, well, buzzed, but even the little hairs are slowly falling out.

#cancer #sarcoma #rhabdomyosarcoma #radiation #treatment #central lines #picc line #bald #superbowl

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marvelousmarvelimagines · 6 years

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Five Times You Thwarted Loki’s Plans

Pairing - Loki x Asgardian Reader

Summary - Loki has been a pain in your ass ever since childhood. Here are five times that you managed to be a pain in his.

A/N - This is actually my entry for @revengingbarnes writing challenge! My prompt was the sentence, “You know I can hear every word you’re saying right?” Congratulations and happy birthday! This is also my first time attempting a Loki story so I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings - None

There was no doubt that Asgard was one of the most beautiful places in the world. I had only traveled to a few other locations, but I knew that Asgard would always be my favorite. Everything here was so bright and gold, almost all of the citizens smiled . . . I couldn’t imagine anyone not loving it here.

Then I met that swine.

All I wanted to do was learn all I could about sorcery. Asgard was such a magical place, and I wanted to be a part of that magic, even help create part of it. I wanted to soak up knowledge and be the best. Unfortunately that wasn’t possible because of him.

Not only was he constantly interrupting our lessons with ridiculous stunts, but it all came so . . . easy for him! While I had to study and practice for hours and hours just to even understand all the science behind my work, Loki had the concept and practical work correct before time for our first meal.

It was infuriating, and he was infuriating. It was why, even at the age of seven, I was looking for any chance to one up him. Finally, that day arrived.

Watching him had become a habit. It had started out just as a way to pick up on any tips that made him so good. Then it became a way to watch for any disruptions before they happened. It was how I found out exactly what he was going to do. The glint, the mischievous shine in his eyes gave it away. My gaze then caught the subtle movement of his fingers underneath the table. I hated how elegant and effortless it looked for him. Within moments though, I realized what he had done. Our tutor was completely terrified of snakes, and Loki had turned his writing utensil into one. A writing utensil he was about to pick up.

I didn’t even hesitate, my fingers moved, though not as skillfully or swiftly as Loki’s, but it had the desired effect. The utensil turned right back to normal seconds before our teacher touched it.

A triumphant grin formed on my face, excited that I had been able to undo Loki’s magic. His face, on the other hand, showed disappointment before meeting my eyes in a withering stare.

I smirked.

The call came rather quickly when a prisoner collapsed, and his heart stopped beating. As the head of the healing staff, I was immediately sent to the scene. By the time I got there, they were already wheeling the patient out of the room on a cot. “Wait!” I called, immediately recognizing the black head of hair. I rolled my eyes and twisted my fingers, undoing the illusion and revealing the real Loki about to escape. “Really, Loki? I expected more.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Good to know that no matter how long I’m away, you’re still just as irritating as you’ve always been.” Loki replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Captivity did not suit him. His hair was a mess, his skin more pale and sunken in than ever before, his eyes lacking the mischievous glint I had become oh so familiar with. “You must be pretty desperate to get out of here if you’re attempting such a predictable trick.” I said as everyone else was ushered out of the room.

“To be fair, I would have tried harder if I had known they were going to send Asgard’s second most powerful sorcerer to heal me.” Loki replied with a smirk.

I glared at him. He knew just how much it irritated me that I had never been able to surpass him in our studies no matter how hard I tried. “Actually, I think that privilege of yours was revoked when you tried to take over Midgard.” I told him.

“Ah . . .” He stalked forward to me. “So I supposed you win by default. How proud you must be of your forfeited accomplishment.”

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to get into my personal space to make me uncomfortable, to intimidate me. I didn’t move an inch though. “It wasn’t a competition.”

“Are you sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, cocking an eyebrow, stalking me in circles like a lion stalks his prey.

“Even if it was, I wouldn’t be proud of winning by default because you had a dramatic fit of jealousy about how you weren’t going to be King.” I hissed.

Suddenly, my back was against the wall, Loki pressed against every inch of my body. I was unable to hold back my gasp at the sensation, staring up at him with wide eyes. This was the closest I had ever been to him, and I was shocked at just how entirely he filled my senses. “Don’t presume you understand anything about me, Y/N.”

Another gasp left my lips as a sharp burning sensation filled my arm. I hadn’t even noticed he was touching me. When I looked down, shock filled my features, for Loki’s arm was not in fact his normal, pale, Asgardian state, but was instead - “Frost Giant . . .” I looked back up at him in disbelief. “You’re part Frost Giant.”

As quickly as he had pressed against me, he was gone, letting go of me as well. “Well done. Your intelligence never ceases to amaze me.”

I ignored the sarcastic jab. “Odin never told you.”

“You can stop the pitying look for the monster.” Loki said, turning away from me.

An unlady like snort left my lips causing him to turn back around and glare at me, his eyes like icy daggers. I paid it no mind. “You’re not a monster. I believe you’re a bit of a fool, but not a monster.”

“You think me a fool?” His voice was somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“You were manipulated by a mad Titan to attempt to take over Midgard, a world with no true resources. The boy I was jealous of would not have wasted his talents on fool errands such as that.” This time I was the one invading his personal space as I approached him, “and parents lie, Loki. Sometimes for your protection, sometimes just because they want to. Even you are not immune to that. It doesn’t give you the right to throw a tantrum and murder thousands of people.”

His hand gripped my chin tightly, but not hurting me, just forcing my eyes to stay locked on his. I kept my face unchanged, unwilling to let him see just how much his proximity and touch was effecting me. “You should take care how you speak around a god, darling.” Loki barely whispered, so close I felt the warmth of his breath on my face.

It took me a few moments before I could find my words, but eventually I did. “I think we both know I’ve never watched my tongue around you, Loki.”

He only smirked.

III

I had found it a little odd when Odin had sent me off to teach my healing practices to the rest of the nine realms. I hadn’t questioned it though. One, because it was Odin, and I wasn’t about to argue with the protector of the Nine Realms. Two, because honestly, I could use the time away. Although I hated to admit it, over the past couple of years, Loki and I had bonded. While he had been in prison, I had visited him several times. I couldn’t explain to myself why, just that after hearing about how he had been lied to his whole life, there was a connection between the two of us. Hearing about his death and how he had sacrificed himself to save Asgard . . . it made my heart ache. So I took the job. I traveled the Nine Realms and helped teach and heal their wounded. It kept my mind and body busy, and I didn’t even have time to think about Loki’s death.

That was until Thor called me back, and I discovered the truth.

I didn’t go see him. I was too upset and angry. Instead I found myself outside of one of the doorways to exit Asgard. It wasn’t long before I wasn’t by myself anymore. “Ah . . . I suppose I should have assumed this would happen.”

I stalked towards him, stopping inches away from him. For a few moments there was nothing but silence between us.

Then I slapped him.

Loki rubbed his jaw where my hand had connected, but otherwise had no reaction. “I wonder, is that for deceiving you, or just some other imagined slight?”

“It’s not an imagined slight, you swine! I thought you had died!” My voice shook as I glared at him.

“I didn’t think that would bother you, considering you’ve been longing for my death for years now.” He replied.

My gaze darkened. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it is. Unless you’ve somehow grown fond of me -” Loki stopped, and I knew he could see through my flushing facial expression clear as day, because he burst into laughter. “Oh dear. Of all the terrible ideas you’ve had over the years, this is your worst.”

I gulped but refused to break our eye contact. “Be that as it may, I’m not letting you escape again. You -” Loki took the final step and invaded my personal space. “You will not escape again.”

He chuckled, his chest now pressed against my own. “I think we both know that if I wanted to, I could.”

My face hardened, trying to hide my heart’s reaction to his closeness. “I hate you.”

Loki’s fingers brushed my cheek, feeling the heat that was still residing there. I breathed out a heavy breath as his thumb touched my lips, leaving them trembling in his wake. Finally they settled under my chin, forcing my gaze to stay locked on his. Not that he needed the help. Those green eyes, darkened with desire, were impossible to look away from. “Not the most convincing lie you’ve ever told, darling.”

IV.

Midgard was interesting that was for sure. As much as Asgardians had loved their feasts, Midgardians loved them more. I had only been on Earth for a few months now, and I had realized that. This one was being held by the famous Man of Iron. He seemed to be the usual culprit of such events. I was finding I rather enjoyed them. I got to meet and enjoy conversations with several interesting creatures. In fact, at the moment, I was having a conversation with a Groot who was telling me all about his journey to Nidavellir with Thor and his father. My attention was distracted though by the entrance of a sullen god.

Loki had been attempting to make a sort of amends on the request of his brother. He wasn’t enjoying it, and no one gave him a speck of trust, with good reason, but he was doing it. That didn’t mean he didn’t have his occasional bouts of mischief. I watched as he took a small vile of Asgardian mead and slipped into a glass intended for the noble Captain America.

Sensing a scheme, I excused myself from Groot and hurried over to the bar, grabbing the glass and downing it mere seconds before Steve Rogers’ hand closed over it.

“Sorry, Captain, I though that was mine. I’ll get you another.” I said with a smile.

Of course Steve didn’t mind, thanking me as I poured him another glass while Loki smirked from his place behind the bar. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” Loki whispered in my ear, sending chills all throughout my body.

“And why not?” I asked, sliding the glass back to the Captain.

“Because, that was not just ordinary Asgardian mead.” He replied.

I turned to face him, biting my bottom lip as I noticed just how close we were standing together. “What was it?”

“A slightly stronger version.” He replied. “You are going to soon be quite intoxicated.”

I flushed. “Why in the name of Odin were you trying to give it to the Captain then?” I hissed.

“I would quite like to see the righteous and just man a little unhinged, wouldn’t you?” Loki asked, raising his eyebrow at me. “Really I was doing him a favor.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that since now that he had put the image in my mind, I couldn’t get it out, and it was amusing.

“Must you always ruin my plans?” Loki asked with a sigh.

I chose to ignore his words. “Well, I don’t feel anything, so you might want to check your source.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Loki smirked.

———

“He’s very frustrating, you know?”

“I completely agree.”

“It’s like he can’t take t-two seconds to just you know, breathe. He has to be causing trouble! Is it hot in here?” I asked Thor, stripping out of my sweater. “Anyway, don’t you ever just get . . . exhausted watching over him?”

“It is indeed. I would often end up with these . . . rather large aches in my head that would take much slumber to end.” Thor replied, taking another sip of his drink and urging me to do the same.

I giggled. “Exactly! We should call them Loki-aches.”

A hearty laugh left him as he held his drink in the air. “To Loki-aches!”

“To Loki-aches!” I repeated loudly, clinking my glass against his and taking a large sip. “I swear, if he wasn’t so damn good looking I would have strangled him by now.” I told Thor.

“Good looking?” Thor repeated with a slight smirk on his lips.

“Unfairly so.” I said.

“You know I can hear every word you’re saying, right?”

I gasped, turning and finding Loki sitting there, the picture of ease, with his legs propped up on the table, only his face showed the mixture of annoyance and amusement. “How long have you been there?” I asked in shock.

He rolled his eyes. “Since our last conversation about oh . . . ten minutes ago?” Loki replied, looking mockingly at his blank wrist.

“Oops.” I snorted causing Thor to burst into laughter again.

“I had no idea you were so amusing, Lady Y/N.” Thor said.

“Yes, she’s just the entertainment of the night.” Loki replied sarcastically.

“Might I remind you -” I poked his chest with my finger. “You’re the reason I’m so entertaining.”

“A mistake I will not make again. You are even more irritating drunk than you are on a day to day basis.” Loki replied.

“Yeah? Well . . .” I racked my brain for a reply. “There’s a strand of your hair out of place!”

Not my best work, but I could have sworn for a brief moment I saw a smile form on Loki’s lips before it quickly vanished.

“You know, brother, irritating is not the word you used to describe her earlier.” Thor said, grabbing both of our attentions.

“What?” A huge grin formed on my face as I turned from Thor to his brother. “What did you say about me?” I asked, poking him in the chest with both fingers this time.

“That you always exceeded my expectations -” He grabbed my hands in a tight grip. “At ruining all my fun.”

I pouted at him. “You’re so mean. I’m going back to talk to that Groot. He was much more polite -” As soon as I stood up, it was as if the world had decided to tilt. My foot slipped as I tried to right myself and suddenly -

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere other than your room, darling.” Loki said, a genuinely amused smile on his face as he held me upright in his arms.

His closeness had my heart pounding strong against my chest and even more heat rushing to my face. It made it difficult to form words, but somehow I managed. “Room - uh - my room sounds nice.”

“I’ll escort you to make sure you don’t stumble over any of this supposedly priceless furniture.” Loki said, his hand coming to rest on my back.

I nodded, my eyes wide as I stared up at him. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or just Loki’s presence, but my head was spinning so fast it was as if I couldn’t think straight.

It wasn’t until we reached my room that the unspoken tension mounted. I didn’t want him to leave, but I also knew that asking him to stay was a terrible idea. “I . . . I’m expecting a nice hangover cure by my bed in the morning.”

He smirked, his body stepping closer to mine, causing me to take an involuntary step backwards. My drunken mind was too hazy to deal with him and the alcohol. His mere presence was intoxicating enough by itself. “Are you giving me permission to sneak into your room, Lady Y/N?” He asked.

I gulped. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It wasn’t?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I took a deep breath, trying to focus. “I wouldn’t imagine you wanting to visit a room of someone who - who irritated you so, anyway.”

Suddenly my back hit my door as he invaded all of my senses and physical space. It was sobering, the way he stared at me, those green eyes dark. “I do find you terribly irritating.”

I let out a breath.

“But I also think you’re the most intriguing creature I’ve ever known.”

I couldn’t tell you who started the kiss, only that our lips had found each others with easy accuracy, as if they had done so several times before. My whole body heated from the touch of him, my pulse increasing to what I was sure was an alarming rate. I found I did not care a bit though. Kissing Loki felt more amazing than I had ever imagined. When his hands found my hair, I wondered how I could have ever considered this a bad idea. Nothing this good could be all bad.

His hands formed a fist in my hair and tugged. An embarrassing whimper left my lips as my hips thrust forward, searching for his. My actions caused him to pull away, and his fingers moved from my hair to touch my still trembling lips. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here, love.”

“Unfortunately, I know exactly what Im getting into.” I replied.

“I’m not a good man. That’s not going to change because of you.”

At least he was honest. Well . . . about this.

“What would I do with myself if you turned a new leaf and I didn’t have to constantly stay on my toes?” I asked.

Loki grinned.

“Schwarma is an awful idea, and it is now obvious why it is unheard of on Asgard.” I groaned to myself as I laid on the tile floor of my bathroom. Tony Stark had insisted that I try it, and Thor had agreed, so I decided there would be no harm.

It turns out I was terribly wrong. Terribly.

Just then there was a loud bang as Loki stormed into my room. “Loki!” I screeched, startled.

He looked at me, a disgusted look on his face as he took in my paler than pale skin, extremely messy hair, and baggy clothes. “What in Odin’s name is wrong with you?”

I became self conscious of just how terrible I must look as I used the last of my strength to throw a pillow at him. “I’m sick, you swine!”

A laugh of angry disbelief left his lips at my words. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Confused and not in the mood to deal with his anger, I covered my face with a pillow I had carried with me to the floor. “What are you talking about?” I groaned.

“Even when I’m trying to do something nice, you just can’t let me.”

“Since when have you ever wanted to do something nice? Yesterday you shut a door in my face.” I reminded him.

“I’m nice when it benefits me, such as taking you to that freezing cold ice . . .” His voice was full of contempt as he spoke. “Thing, even though I knew you would make an idiot of yourself in the hopes of spending some alone time with you after. Which is what I was planning to do today, but no, you had to go and get yourself some ridiculous Midgardian illness -”

His words were interrupted by my scramble to the toilet as my body continued to expel the offending food. After a brief moment I felt Loki’s hands in my hair, holding it back from my face. After I had finished, I took a towel and wiped my lips before looking at him. “You were going to take me ice skating?”

Loki sighed, “Thor said it was a good idea for a ‘date’ or whatever the Midgardian term is.” He informed me, rolling his eyes.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “I can’t believe you were going to do something that sweet.”

HIs nose crinkled at the word. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” I assured him.

With Loki, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to anything. He certainly lived up to his name as the God of Mischief.

#fatimas4kchallenge #loki #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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heavenlydreamerblog · 6 years

Text

In too Deep

Chapter 21

I can’t believe it’s Friday again! Hope you all have a great weekend and let me know what you think about this latest chapter! Party day’s almost arrived for Lexy!

You can check out previous chapters on my Wattpad account: https://www.wattpad.com/user/HeavenlyDreamerBlog

I pulled into the parking lot and switched off the engine. My phone vibrated from deep inside my bag. I sighed, digging past paperwork and my diary before eventually finding it nestled underneath a tub of body cream and a spare pair of old socks.

I noticed it was a missed call from the office. “Hey Jess,” I answered as she picked up the phone. “I’m on my way in now. Is there a problem?”

“No problem my end. What about you though? Where’ve you been for the past 36 hours Lex? ”

I decided not to answer that. “I’ll be 15 minutes max. I’m just picking up some coffees and I’ll be there. Is Carrie in the office?”

“Yes!”

“In that case I’ll make it three coffees to go,” I shouted before ending the call.

*********************************

I pushed open the door to hear Carrie shouting down the phone – hopefully to a supplier not a client – and Jess tapping away on her keyboard. She looked up as I cursed, coffee spilling from one of the mugs on to my jeans.

“Here, take these will you Jess,” I called, trying to balance bags, coffee and files in my too-small arms.

My desk was full of post-it notes and paperwork piled high next to my laptop. “God Jess, I haven’t been gone that long! What’s all this stuff waiting for me?”

I listened to her talking about new clients while I rubbed at the coffee stain down the front of my jeans. I’d showered at Jared’s before leaving but the memories of what happened weren’t quite so easy to wash away.

“So where have you been Lexy?” The abrupt turn in the conversation caught me off guard.

The look of confusion on my face must have spoken volumes. “Lexy, have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying for the past five minutes?”

“Sorry Jess,” I muttered. “This party’s gonna be the death of me. I’ve been going over last minute details with Jared this morning. We’re almost there, it’s just the little things he’s demanding that are taking up my time now.”

I sighed and pulled out my desk calendar. I preferred old school writing into little squares rather than using my phone. I pointed to today – March 7. “Ive got two more days before the party. Two more days Jess.” My voice was a whisper. Wow, surely nobody screws up better than me. Two days, two brothers and two colleagues who need me in the office working round-the-clock to clear a never-ending workload.

“Lexy, come over here for a moment!” Carrie was off the phone and straight on to the next task, which for my sins seemed to be me.

“Hi Carrie, what’s up?” I asked, pulling up a chair at the side of her desk.

“Christ Lexy, you look fucked. What’s been going on while I’ve been away? I need updates.”

If only she knew how fucked I was. I took a deep breath. “Let me get my notebooks and I’ll tell you where I am with everything.”

I walked back to my desk and sifted through piles of paperwork before finding the relevant documents.

I sat back down and spent the next twenty minutes filling Carrie in on the party planning and reassuring her we were on schedule for delivering the ultimate Hollywood bash.

“OK. Stop there for a minute,” she said. I held my breath for as long as Carrie held my gaze. It was too long and I looked away.

“So what’s it been like working for Jared Leto?” The question was a fully loaded pistol waiting for me to pull the trigger.

I paused, thinking how best to answer without prompting any further probing questions.

“Well, he’s been demanding and not the easiest person to work with,” I replied, looking anywhere other than at Carrie.

“It’s taken up a huge chunk of my time but as I’ve just shown you, we’re almost there.” I hoped this would satisfy her curiosity.

I looked up to see her eyes locked on mine. “One moment Lexy. Stay there.” She pulled out her phone and tapped on a contact.

Silence and then I heard the phone picking up the other end.

“Hi, it’s Carrie from Blue Sky Party Planners. You OK?” I listened, smiling at the way she schmoozed her clients, soothing their egos while promising them the world.

“So I’m told it’s all going to plan yes? I was wondering if it’s OK for me to pop over and take a look. Yes, I’ll bring Lexy with me because she’s been in charge of this project from the beginning. Lovely. See you in an hour. Bye Jared.”

WTF! My expression would surely have me hanged in the court of Carrie. “Ummm, surely you need to be getting on with work here Carrie?” I stammered, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt while trying boldly to hold eye contact with my boss.

“Yes, but I’ve still got time to check up on my clients and Jared’s top of my list for the next couple of hours. Grab your bags and paperwork and let’s go.”

I swear she was out of her chair like a rocket launching into space, a roar of fire and energy dragging me in her wake.

Jess looked up from her desk and I cursed the smirk writ large on her face. Good luck! She mouthed the words while wrapping her hands around her mug of coffee – yeah, the same bloody mug I’d so kindly brought her just moments ago.

I glared at her and mentally made plans to kick her ass in the house later.

***************************

“So Lexy, is this party over budget or are you managing to keep to Jared’s detailed costings?”

The questions kept coming thick and fast and my mind was kept occupied for the entire drive over to Jared’s place. My lap was covered in paperwork, the contents of my bag had spilled out over my feet and I was a complete mess.

Before I knew it, Carrie had pulled up outside and keyed in the pass code which Jared had obviously given her to gain entry. The gates opened and Carrie pulled in, parking up behind Jared’s beaten up truck.

I’m constantly amazed at the woman’s energy and ability to leave me standing; or in this case sitting in the car, unable to move. She’d bounded up to the door and rang the bell, leaving me to sort through the mess of paperwork.

“Jared, so lovely to meet you darling!” I looked over to see Carrie doing her usual air kissing and kissing ass while I desperately tried to restore order in the car.

“Where’s Lexy?” Jared’s voice cut through her schmoozy greetings as Carrie pointed towards the car. All I wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I hadn’t had time to go home and change, my jeans were now stained with coffee, my hair was a dishevelled mess and I didn’t feel up to facing Jared, especially with the forced of Carrie in tow.

But Carrie was now in charge and I knew they were talking about me. I looked up to see Jared walking slowly towards the car. With his back to Carrie, he grinned before opening the door.

“Let me help you with that,” he laughed, smiling at my obvious discomfort.

“I couldn’t stop her Jared,” I whispered looking over at Carrie. “I’m so sorry if we’re wasting your time. I’ll try to keep her on track and get away as soon as possible. I promise!”

“Don’t rush on my account baby.” He bent over, scooping all my shit back into the bag.

“And on no account will you call me baby in front of Carrie,” I replied sharply. “This is the business end of the deal and she wants to know we’re on top of things. OK?”

“That’s fine with me baby girl,” he nodded before looking back over his shoulder and then dropping his head to land a soft kiss on my lips.

“Shit J! Do you listen to anything I say?”

“Sshh. Emma’s taken Carrie inside. We’re OK.”

I swear that man could talk the pants off a nun. “Take my bag and let’s get inside before Carrie comes looking for me.” I swung my legs out of the car, turning round to scoop up my papers before heading into the house.

***********************

“So this is the poolside with the bar and DJ,” I explained, showing Carrie Jared’s chilled back yard before leading her inside. The caterers will be inside. They’re arriving tomorrow to prep the food.

“We’ve arranged a valet service, photographer, cloakroom and ....” I dropped my voice, “a special surprise upstairs ... but Jared knows nothing about that, so keep it secret.”

“What in God’s name have you planned Lexy?” Carrie’s voice was low and stern. “And is it covered by Jared’s budget? Please Christ say yes.”

I nodded and placed a finger on my lips, spotting Jared walking down the hallway.

Carrie turned and walked towards him. “So, are you pleased with what Lexy’s achieved so far?”

He glanced over to me and smiled. “I couldn’t be a happier man Carrie.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek before raising his finger to beckon me over.

“Honestly Carrie, this woman’s bent over backwards to meet my every demand. I think I’ve totally exhausted her.” He dragged me into his arms and hugged me in front of her. Was this a test to see how far he could push me? I laughed nervously and shoved him away.

“All in a day’s work Jared,” I muttered, feeling caught between a rock and hard place.

“Jared! You’ve just made a member of my staff blush!” Carrie’s voice seemed to echo down the hall. The woman has no filter on that mouth.

Being the total gentleman for a change, Jared smiled and led us back to the kitchen.

“Have you got time for some tea because there’s something else I need to discuss before you two go.” Jared pulled out two bar stools and gestured for us to sit down.

I sipped some tea and waited for him to start, wondering what other demands he had planned with just a day to go before the party.

He spoke slowly as if not wanting us to miss a word. “First of all Carrie ....” he looked at me before continuing. “Lexy’s been amazing and I couldn’t have asked any more from her. You’re really lucky to have her and I hope she’s appreciated.” He leaned over and put his arm around my shoulder. “I’m proud of everything she’s achieved while working for me. And I mean everything.” I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder.

This was so loaded I didn’t know where to look. I cleared my throat and looked at Carrie, who knocked that same goddamn look straight back at me.

“Thanks Jared. It’s been a complete pleasure.” The words came out confident, belying the utter confusion swimming around inside of me. “You said you have something else to discuss,” I prompted, wrapping my hands tightly around the mug of tea.

“Yes Lexy.” He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He padded back over to the bar, in no rush to let me know what else he wanted from me.

“The party will be brilliant. I know it’ll be amazing,” he assured me. “What I haven’t planned though is how to get Shannon here without giving the game away. And so I thought this was where I could use you.”

He smiled as he watched my reaction. I tried to keep my face neutral but I could feel my cheeks burning up and my stomach churning.

“What are your plans,” I asked tentatively, hardly wanting to hear the answer to my question.

“You will be his date for the night.” The words were delivered clearly and concisely. There was no question, it was a statement and he watched me with those blue eyes, waiting for my response.

“Here, have some water.” He offered me his bottle, allowing his fingers to brush over mine as he passed it over.

I breathed slowly and deeply before answering. “How will that work then?”

“I promise you it will work Lexy. You’ll love him. I’ll introduce the two of you tomorrow and then we’ll organise it from there. And more importantly ... this way you get to meet my brother before the party,” he explained, his voice soothing, but making me aware there would be no discussion. This was a done deal and I would comply with his wishes.

Carrie raised an eyebrow, her lips resting on the rim of her mug as she watched the scene play out in front of her.

“This seems all a bit above and beyond the call of duty don’t you think Jared?” She was watching to see how he’d react to her questioning.

Jared stared her down. “Carrie ... most of what I ask of Lexy is above and beyond our contract ... but I’m your client remember.

“Lexy? Are you OK with my plans?” His eyes met mine, demanding an answer.

I felt dizzy and drained with everything happening so rapidly. “Yes, we’re OK Jared. I’m just getting my head around everything. When will you speak to Shannon?” I asked, watching Carrie, watching me.

We broke eye contact and turned as Jared reached over the bar for his phone. He keyed in his code and hit the call button. “No time like the present is there. I’ll speak to Shannon now and organise things for the two of you tomorrow.”

I panicked. “Jared can’t this wait for a moment? You haven’t given me time to even think about what you’re asking of me,” I gasped, listening to the phone ring ... and then connect.

“Bro! You got a minute?”

Oh for the love of God, beam me up! This surely wasn’t happening. I walked out to the poolside with Carrie in hot pursuit.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on Lexy?” Carrie grabbed my arm, forcing me to face her.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s the problem and what’s with Jared making all these demands on you?”

Dammit. I could feel my eyes welling up with tears. This was neither the time nor the place for having a minor breakdown.

“Can you just leave me alone for a moment Carrie, Please!” I begged, turning away, wanting nothing more than to hide away from this monster of a problem I’d brought on myself.

What did they say? Something about being the architect of your own downfall. Shit! I was up there at the very pinnacle of the mountain waiting for my fall from grace.

I looked over at Carrie, silently begging her to give me space.

She reached into her bag and removed the car keys, holding them up for me to see. “I’m going back to the office Lexy. What are you doing?” She watched and waited for my response.

But she didn’t have to wait too long. Jared’s voice sliced through the late afternoon breeze.

“Lexy, we have to talk!”

Carrie raised her eyebrow. “I have to go Lexy. Call if you need me and don’t take any of his shit,” she whispered, giving my arm a slight squeeze for reassurance.

I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself before going back into the kitchen.

Carrie said her farewells and left me and Jared alone and in silence.

I stood by the open door, my body silhouetted by the dipping sun outside.

Please go easy on me. That’s all I could think. His features were inscrutable, his blue eyes drilling into my soul. “Baby, baby girl. Come here,” he said, leaning against the wall, waiting or me to make the next move.

I held my ground though, determined not to let him get to me. “Have you discussed your plans with Shannon then?” I asked, glaring at him.

“What if I have Lexy?”

“Cut the crap Jared!” I was losing patience with his games. “What did you say to him?”

Whatever they’d discussed, I had to brave it out now. I closed the distance between us, not wanting to show any of the fear that was balling up in the pit of my stomach.

We were standing toe to toe, my face turned up to meet his steely gaze. “What ... did .... you ... discuss Jared.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I told you what I needed from you Lexy. Tomorrow you WILL meet my brother and you WILL work out a way of bringing him to the party. Do you understand what I’m asking of you?”

His hand gripped my arm, pulling me closer. “And you will do anything necessary to get him here. I mean ... anything!”

I nodded, looking back towards the open door and the great outdoors.

“And Lexy.” His fingers loosened their grip, reaching up to brush over my face. “Let’s have no secrets between the three of us.”

As usual, here’s the tag list. Feel free to drop me a message if you want to be tagged in future chapters xxx

@letsbeautifuldisaster @llfd1977 @nikkitasevoli @letojokerownsme @wolfgirl624 @beautorigin @jaredlxto @i-writeandread @darlingdiary87 @reikihealermary @msroxyblog @lifeonmars30 @myxtina @pixieriding @lostinletoland

#jared leto #jared leto fan fic #jared leto fan fiction #shannon leto #shannon leto fanfic #shannon leto fanfiction #30stm #jared leto 30stm #shannon leto 30stm #In Too Deep #Black Fuel #30 seconds to mars

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