#If Rogue moved on to someone else the same harassment would still follow

[rogunetocentral]

I dislike when someone tries to retroactively say there was a ship war regarding Rogueneto when it was nothing of the sort. What really happened is that some folks thought Rogueneto was cool and then they got harassed out of fandom spaces by shippers of Rogue's other relationship. The same thing happened to Roguepool, Rogan, and RoguexJohnny fans to a lesser extent. To say there was a war was to imply both sides were on equal footing and equally involved fighting, which again, was not true and still isn’t true.

What I remember happening, first hand, was not being able to discuss Xmen legacy new issues because even insinuating you liked Mike Carey was an offense against nature even if Magneto wasn't even in the new issue with Rogue. I remember not being able to go to Rogue centered websites or forum threads without someone going on a diatribe every 5 posts about how awful Rogueneto was, how awful and sexist their fans were, and Mike Carey was apparently a pervert that needed to be harassed and shit talked on every social media platform including his Facebook page that he still graciously left public for fans to interact with him. I remember when he was forced to make an account on CBR to make his one and only post defending himself from accusations on his person by shippers who called him a supporter of sexual abuse and grooming, an allegation against the comic and writer that they made up 1000%

I remember non-fans of Rogue and Rogueneto getting fed up with the allegations and shipping madness that whenever they did defend Rogueneto from outright lies they were accused of being shippers themselves as a way to invalidate their opinions and perspective as a third-party. I remember there was no war but an onslaught of crazed shipping ruining everyone's enjoyment.

To say there has ever been a shipping war with these characters is to actively erase the one sided harassment and shitty behavior that surrounded that period. Saying, "oh my friend was harassed by Rogueneto fans" is not going to fly tbh, because there was a handful of fans of the ship and I can safely say most of them did not give a fuck about harassing other shippers. They just wanted to ship in peace away from everyone else. If anything the non-shipper readers would be more aggressive than the Rogueneto shippers in fighting, so that needs to be taken up with them.

The fact that it's happening again with x-men 97 should tell you something. Playful jabs between friends is one thing but once again complete and utter meltdowns are happening because Rogueneto gets rare crumbs. I had to see with my own eyes that someone genuinely believed Marvel and the X-Men 97 writers were engaging in psychological warfare because their ship didn't happen in this one thing. The voice actors are put into tight spots because if they say or do anything to make it seem like they enjoy Rogueneto then they'll get harassed. People pulling up the fake groomer allegations from their shipping agenda textbook again to make Rogueneto look bad and guilt people out of liking it. Misogynistic and sexist comments are consistently thrown at Rogue for daring to be genuinely attracted/attached to another man.

There was/is no war in Ba Sing Se. Just a bunch of shipper crybaby nonsense and other comic fans exhausted by it.

[bondsmagii]

Hey read (some of) this blog post (long as hell), tries to pick it up where your old scp cult post left off: lackoflepers medium com/scp-is-not-a-cult-196e87ce6b11

(link)

this is insane. I've never written anything that's ever received a full response before, so that's exciting. what's even more exciting is that this piece does raise some really interesting questions, and is very well-written and thoughtful.

the strange thing is, I think we're both in agreement -- but I'm calling it a cult, and the author of this piece is calling it a "fledgling religion". I agree with this outlook, if I'm honest -- but at the same time I can't help but think that this has filled a hole in my cult theory, rather than poked a hole in it.

when I wrote the original cult post, the one thing I couldn't quite equate was the religion aspect. there was a lot of things to consider from that aspect, in terms of cults requiring a certain doctrine, rituals, etc, and while I was able to draw comparisons to the site culture and these things, it didn't quite fit. this article explains and illustrates exactly what all of these things are, and the sheer amount of similarities between the SCP wiki culture and religious fundamentalists. it's absolutely incredible, how it all still adds up.

however, some things are way off. I understand the author has a history with site and with staff, and they obviously understand that there's a complicated relationship between the two. the piece certainly tackles the question from an educated site-critical standpoint, but I can't help but notice some glaring omissions and in some places, assumptions which I feel are quite simply incorrect. under the cut we go, because this is long.

the author seems to be very ignorant of the site's cyclical patterns. one of their main arguments for the wiki's not being a cult is how people like Dr Gears and thedeadlymoose don't have more power over the masses, being such important figures. the problem with the wiki is that it is very cyclical, and big names of one era do not translate over to new eras. big names replace old ones, and the old ones either become fond grandparent figures (like Gears, who had the sense to take a step back before the tides changed against him) or they become irrelevant or reviled (like thedeadlymoose, or pixelatedharmony (Roget).) this means that if the former appeals to the group, they will get essentially a pat on the head and a gentle dismissal, or if the latter speak out they will be silenced, harassed, banned, etc. this is very cultlike behaviour -- if somebody goes against the grain, they become an immediate enemy of the people. the only way to survive fame on the wiki is to retire quietly, at your peak, and keep yourself to yourself.

going on from this, there are also different levels to how a staff member is seen. there have been eras of the site where the site admin might not be as impressive as one of the prolific writers, for example. who these days knows about The Administrator? it's all Dr Gears to them. different authors have different levels of unofficial authority, and the author of the piece doesn't seem to realise that it's a cult of personality as much as anything else. there are constant divisions among staff, even if they present a united front; frequently those not toeing the party line have been ostracised or purged, and this filters down to the average user. just because a person is on staff does not mean they immediately skyrocket to godhood, if we're using the religious metaphor. this is why it seems as though "staff" as a whole isn't uniformly worshipped -- they're not. there are complex currents of power at work here, and it's frustrating because at first glance it seems to invalidate the very real fact that a few site members have all the authority. the staff worship extends to staff members. those in lower tiers will act similarly to those in higher tiers as a new member would act towards all staff.

the author draws attention to thedeadlymoose's impressive efforts to bring the site forward from its 4chan beginnings and make it more inclusive to LGBT members -- something that has undoubtedly had an effect. however, the author does not mention that to date, the site's only successful splinter site (as in, a site that lasted more than a few weeks) is RPC, and while this website came about for multiple reasons, it's undeniable that one of these reasons was because of the fact that the wiki was openly supportive of LGBT people during Pride Month. it's also interesting to note that the author is also a member of the RPC site, so it's odd that this piece of the site's origins is not mentioned.

the acceptance of these pro-LGBT policies also seems to be less wide-spread than the author believes -- most people don't care, there does exist users who are homophobic or transphobic, and -- something I'm surprised wasn't mentioned at all in the piece -- when LGBT members of the site spoke up and said the new logo made them feel pandered to, and the resulting blowout made them feel targeted and unsafe, they were mass banned from the subreddit by a rogue moderator who, incensed by the fact his authority was so challenged, then ragequit and abused people on the threads for several hours. this is a typical staff response to discontent in the masses. so yes, thedeadlymoose did have some significant sway in the attitude changing somewhat, but it was not as widespread (nor as cared about) as the article's author seems to think.

now, I shall move on to specific quotations.

Furthermore, as a gaggle of creators, SCP should never feature the mass conformity of thought that defines a cult; theirs is an ecosystem that predicates itself upon creation, and obsessively on the new and original — that is to say, the different (but tempered).

while the author does elaborate on this idea of creativity and conformity, this is just wrong. again, I blame the author's ignorance in regards to the cyclical nature of the site -- which isn't the fault of the author, in my opinion. such cycles are slow, measuring out in years rather than months, which is insanely long for an internet community. in order to notice them, you would have to have been observing for some time -- which I have been. since I have been observing the site (which has been since its very creation -- I was on the 4chan thread in 2007 when 173 was created and I have seen the wiki from its infancy on EditThis over to wikidot) I have seen this happen countless times. a type of writing, be it style or genre, takes off. it could be LOLFoundation, grimdark, whatever -- it takes off, it runs the site for a year or so, and then it crashes and burns. when it takes off, there are rules for writing it that must be obeyed lest you be downvoted to oblivion. as the attitude turns against it, those who still write it are vilified and ostracised, and the new one takes over. there have been mass purges in the past, and there has always been, since the wiki's inception, conformity of thought. one of my oldest complaints about the wiki is that, for a site full of writers, they have no imagination and absolutely no desire to step out of the approved style.

To put it very broadly, things get accustomed to the status quo in a highly regulated environment, and get better at simply remaining and surviving in that.

this could be a decent rebuff to my previous point, but the fact is that while the SCP wiki harbours cultish behaviour, a vast majority of the users are casual readers who maybe write one or two articles. the stagnation is, at least partially, because of the fact that most users sign up, read some articles, think "cool, I have an idea for one!", write it -- and have it emulate the articles they've read, thus sounding similar in tone and content to the rest of the recent articles -- get a semi-decent response if lucky, and then move on after a few months or years.

the people who power the wiki, however -- who are prolific, who churn out insane amount of articles -- are suffering from what I outlined in my above point. a small percentage of the wiki dictates the direction it goes. it has always been like this -- and people who go against the grain that staff have employed, be it old user or new, will pay for it. this payment is often in downvotes, but occasionally comes in harassment, bans, or deletions, too.

Lastly a cult is really the most extreme version of a religion, it is a religion on steroids.

this is straight-up incorrect. cults began as religions gone hayware, yes, but the idea of a cult as a Jonestown-style compound in the middle of nowhere is outdated. cults are the most extreme version of an ideology -- be it religious, political, or otherwise. they are ideologies on steroids. thanks to the internet, they also no longer have to be in real life spaces. you can be in a social cult on Twitter or on Discord; you can be in a cult of ideology on an incel forum or in a social circle of TERF blogs. all of these things are cults. they have cult-like behaviour and thinking.

this is where the author proves my point beyond all doubt. the author says the following about the wiki's increasingly left-wing inclusive policies:

What was intended to be an executive extension in peace has, due to the force required to counteract the sheer hostility and persecution once leveled at this group at its peak, instead overshot its mark and has become a brutal bureaucratic sanctioning of political identity. (I can hear someone saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.)

the biggest shift in this cult-think, for me, was observed when the shift towards Terminally Online Woke Left attitudes began to be increasingly observed. I'm not talking about getting people to tone down the homophobia and whatnot. I'm talking about this culture of purity and suffering that the author outlines very well in the article; if you have read the article, I needn't go over it again. the wiki now holds a monopoly on suffering using the same kind of Oppression Olympics as other spaces devoted to purity culture -- and purity culture is a cult. this is straight-up fact at this point. it is my belief that staff identified the power available to them in a) targeting people from oppressed and vulnerable groups and giving them a so-called safe space and b) using their various oppressions to their advantage.

something that is prolific in purity culture circles is that somebody who is oppressed in any way cannot be held to blame for their actions. they cannot be a bad person. this is ideological armour, and staff wields it. they also use purity culture and apparently progressive ideology to shut down anyone who dissents, and to smear their name and have then ostracised as an enemy. why do they do this? liking the power and fame of their position is a big part of it, as the author outlined, but something major is missing.

throughout the entire article, the author does not once mention the detailed and extensive history of staff sexually abusing minors on the site.

this is well-documented by this point. staff has seen many predators in its ranks, including one of the most prolific site members of all time -- AdminBright, or The Duckman. staff has known about these staff members and has covered it up over years. I myself have heard testimony from countless victims, but whenever we raise enough of a stink, a staff member does an "internal investigation" and nothing comes of it. the fact that the cult-like behaviour of this website can be discussed without one of the cornerstones of cult activity -- using its members for financial or sexual gain -- is astounding to me.

to go on from this, there is also no mention of the SCP lawyer fund, which raised over $30,000 and then faced staff actively resisting transparency as to the case and the funds. financial manipulation is another major example of cult behaviour.

without acknowledging these two things, I do not think that a full argument against the idea of the SCP wiki as a cult can be possible.

the author raises a good point that illustrates both why staff acts the way it does, and why the users are so eager to imitate:

The answer is something that can turn someone into their nemesis; something that would make someone sell their soul for 1000 upvotes; that tragic commonality that binds all individuals who feel the need to write; the need to be received, but more, to be loved for it.

this is a big reason why staff clings to its power, and why people sell out their creativity, and why people emulate this behaviour, and why prolific authors burn out so fast. however, running through all of this at its core -- through the need to be received and loved -- is the power that comes with it. this is all about power.

to mention the specific example of LordStonefish, and his reaction when he found out that his interviewer was enemy of the people pixelatedharmony, now of "burning out, ragequitting the site, and going to talk shit on KiwiFarms" infamy:

[...] it was as if LSF was speaking to a leper, and that the ongoing participation in the salvation of public approval (not to mention site participation as well) was directly dependent upon LSF’s rebuke of pH as a demon who is only worthy of a terrible fate and, as we see in the screencaps, even death.

leaving my personal opinions on Harmony out of this, going from a perfectly civil interview to finding out that the interviewer was an enemy and not only dumping all of his private information to offset doxing, but also going into detail about some highly personal stuff for shock value... I don't think Harmony quite required that treatment. the fact is that, as the quote outlines above, the only way to ensure that he wouldn't be completely ostracised for fraternising with the enemy (KiwiFarms -- of which Harmony is apparently the ambassador) was to behave like a man shunning a sinner. Harmony has sinned -- she rejected the status quo, she defied the group and its authority, and LordStonefish, in order to remain safe from being tarred with the same brush -- has to react with suitable horror to her presence.

it should be noted here that while KiwiFarms has a reputation for being a hive of scum and villainy, its main reputation regarding the SCP Wiki has been for being the one place where complaints against the site are openly discussed, often by defected staff members such as pixelatedharmony and Cyantreuse, and perhaps most telling of all -- the place where a lot of accounts of sexual harassment and abuse have been filed. staff rails against it on the grounds of it being filled with people who use slurs and have questionable ideological beginnings (ironic, coming from a website which began on 4chan) -- but as a leftist myself with extensive knowledge of the wiki, I can confirm that no criticisms I've seen on there have been unfair or inaccurate, and in fact a lot of the evidence and testimony posted there is damning. it would be fair to not wish to associate with the site because of its content in other places, or even its past reputation, but the fact staff rail against it so hard when it's currently one of the only places (and certainly the only public place) where their deeds are on display? it's interesting.

of LordStonefish's reaction, the author says:

This is the behavior of a deeply religious figure.

it is. this is the reaction of a Mormon meeting an old friend who has left the church. this is the reaction of a Jehovah's Witness crossing the street to avoid a shunned neighbour. it is the behaviour, you could say, of a cult member.

in the conclusion, the author states:

And if anyone is to shoulder blame for the creation of this pathology and its complex, it are those true bigots of history and today, who don’t have the spiritual maturity to understand that someone’s sexual preference or identity shouldn’t be enough to categorically separate them from a definition of humanity; to beat, maim, and wish death upon them.

perhaps this might have been true, perhaps this might have drawn a thoughtful and damning line under the whole affair, if not for the fact that this behaviour has been occurring since long before the internet became known for its progressive and now increasingly often, ridiculous takes on inclusion and sensitivity. this kind of cultish groupthink has been ongoing since the wiki's very first inception. the cyclical worship of a group of staff members and other prolific writers (though the group are often one and the same) and their chosen theme or genre has occurred like clockwork since the late 00s. it has occurred when the website was still entrenched in its 4chan days and saying slurs was barely blinked at. it was still there back when staff was predominantly (or at least presumably) cis, white, and male. it was there when being gay was the butt of a joke and being trans was all but unthought of. it has always been there, and while the latest progressive policies and attitudes have had an effect on how the power is wielded, it has not changed the power itself. if the tides ever turn on the Terminally Online Woke ideology, staff will change with it and adapt their policies and ideologies to keep their power.

if anyone is to shoulder the blame for the creation of this pathology, it is the elitist attitude that has allowed a select few to be worshipped unquestionably. it is the power-hungry individuals who seek out fame and respect on a writing website and then use this fame and respect to treat others badly and their fear of a fall from grace to shelter others treating people worse. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who use their position to groom and sexually assault minors. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who keep it silent. as the severity of staff's secrets has increased, so has their attempts to silence dissent and reform at all costs.

the author agrees that this kind of religious think might lead to a cult in the future. the author says the cult will be a cult of vulnerability, but I disagree. I believe the cult is already there, and it is -- and always has been -- a cult of power.

[queenbeean]

she's mine / ari levinson

werewolf au

author’s note: fic for @lielullabye 500 challenge, congratulations💕(this is a repost of my work) dedicated to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork love you amber💕

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual harassment, threats

prompts: slight beauty and the beast au; werewolf!ari x mate!reader

read please: this is an alternate universe with ari levinson, in this fic there’s no RSDR, no guy thomas, just the man with the same principles and ideals; also, my knowledge on werewolf dynamics is limited, i’m writing this with what i know from what i’ve read before

“Why do you hate her so much?” Sam asked Ari. They were coming back from yet another successful battle against rogues. Those wolves were tormenting packs all around the state and Ari made it his mission to help as many packs as he could. But the rogues were still coming, they were relentless.

“I don’t hate her.” He grumbled.

Ari didn’t want a mate. Simple as that. He didn’t want to deal with caring about someone who had the power to kill him. He was fine with saving packs from being murdered by rogues. That was his mission in life. No getting distracted.

Until she came along. Until he saved her.

Ari wanted to despise her. He needed to hate her.

Why couldn’t he just bring himself to reject her?

He had tried so many times. It would be so easy to go up to her, reject her and be free of their so called bond. The human in him didn’t want to be cruel. But he couldn’t allow himself to care for her, for anybody. That was the animalistic part of him. Because the wolf part of him wanted nothing more than to be her mate.

Still he couldn’t do it.

“Okay, then. Let me rephrase.” Sam chuckled, making Ari grit his teeth. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

“Can we not do this right now? I’m tired.”

“We never do this. You are always tired when it comes to her. Funny because she’s as quiet about you whenever I ask her.”

Ari’s head whipped so fast in Sam’s direction. “So now you are talking to her?” He demanded to know, his Alpha voice coming through. He didn’t know why Sam talking to her was making his blood boil.

Sam’s laugh boomed. It was so easy riling him up when it came to Y/N. “So what if I am?” He taunted.

Ari stopped the car, tires screeching on the pavement, making the cars behind struggle to stop as well. He got out of the car and before going to Sam’s side, he mind-linked his wolves.

“Everybody get to the house, now!”

The first driver resumed driving and the rest followed. The Alpha’s orders were clear. They wouldn’t want to disobey in any way, especially with an angry Alpha.

Ari opened Sam’s door and took him out by his shirt. “She’s a really nice girl, Ari.” Sam continued his teasing. If Ari wasn’t so angry, he’d realise what Sam’s intentions were. He would also know that Sam meant no harm and would never disrespect Y/N nor his Alpha. “Why are you so worked up over me and her?”

Ari dropped him and Sam took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Back at the pack house, Ari walked in with his mind set on someone. His pack bowed in respect and in other circumstances, he would nod in acknowledgement but he was on a mission. He opened door, making young wolves whimper in fear, something he regretted instantly. He tried calming himself down but the she and Sam would pop into his mind.

At last he found her. The sight in front of him doing something to his heart. Y/N was sitting with a book in her hands, the pages showing cartoon wolves. Around fifteen toddler wolves were sitting in front of her, their attention on the captivating woman telling the story. Her hands moving gracefully and her words smooth as honey.

“Fuck.” Ari muttered under his breath. Y/N gasped, letting him know that she had heard and so would the younglings would have if they weren’t so captured by the story. Their eyes locked and she looked away first, intimidated by his hard stare. “Y/N, a word.” She nodded in acknowledgement and closed the bedtime story.

Simultaneous whines came from the young wolves. “It’s time to sleep. We can finish tomorrow.” She said in a soft voice and Ari cursed in his mind. He stepped aside as the wolves dragged their feet towards their respective rooms. Ari let out a small chuckle at the sight. “How can I help you?” His head snapped in her direction and instinctively took a step back, something as an Alpha he shouldn’t have done. Weakness. Exactly why he didn’t want a mate. Especially a beautiful one with a voice like velvet.

Y/N bowed her head and took two steps back when Ari did that. He hasn’t officially rejected her yet but she knew it would nearly kill her whenever he did. It was already painful and he had only put some space between them. It was a ticking bomb that he was handing her and she no choice but to accept it.

Ari swallowed hard as he realised what he made her feel but then Sam’s words sounded in his mind again. “Why have you been talking to Sam?” No, he wasn’t beating around the bush. He needed to know with urgency what was going between his Beta and his very own mate.

“What do you mean?” Y/N sounded genuinely confused.

Ari groaned. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. He told me you two have been talking and I want to know why.” He didn’t realise he had walked into her personal space until there was nothing else he could smell but her. And it was maddening.

“Alpha,” Y/N whispered, feeling her heart beating worryingly fast and her wolf clawing for a way out, ready to be with her mate.

The way his title sounded coming out of her lips pushed him to the edge. In a swift movement, he carefully pushed her against the wall and kissed her. His lips were devouring her and she tried her best to keep up with him. As an Alpha, she knew he had the upper hand when it came to dominating her. And she loved it. The way his hands were firmly but gently cupping her cheeks until they needed air. Then one of his hands left to cup the back of her neck and the other to wrap around her waist. His hot breath fanned from his cheek, her jaw to her neck and shoulder as he placed open-mouthed kisses all over every inch of skin. She could do nothing but run her hands through his long hair, the feel of his silky strands were driving her crazy. And she gripped them tight when she felt his canines rubbing the place where her neck met her shoulder, what would be her marking spot.

As soon as Ari felt her tensing, he came to his senses and pulled away. His eyes locked with hers and his heart hurt when he saw the fresh tears gathering.

Y/N pushed herself off the wall and walked past Ari.

“Don’t take another step, Y/N.” He didn’t know what to tell her though, he didn’t know if he could succumb to her. She stopped, she couldn’t disobey direct orders from the Alpha, from her Alpha, her mate.

Ari saw her lips trembling but he couldn’t bring himself to move and get her in his arms. And he didn’t try stopping her when she moved. He just saw how she walked away from him, hurting him in the process.

Y/N ran out of the pack house all the way to the river a couple of miles into the woods. She knew he wasn’t following her but her body could still feel him. Then she yanked her clothes off and shifted, hoping that running would make him disappear from her thoughts. She needed to brace herself, harden her heart for when the time came that he would reject her. Because he had said so. Just waiting for the right time.

/

Ari’s wolf was going crazy. There was too much distance between him and his mate. The only thing that Ari staying put was knowing she was still in his territory. The patrolling wolves of that night let him know that she was safe. And as much as he hated it, Sam offering to keep her company kept his mind at peace.

He knew his resolution was crumbling but there was so much at stake for him. A few minutes with her had him losing focus. Nothing else existed but them. How was he supposed to care for an entire pack when he lost himself in her.

“Alpha Levinson.”

Ari looked up to the door and his blood boiled. Gabe Ashton was the type of wolf that shouldn’t be an Alpha. Ruthless, merciless and cocky. Had been tormenting wolves for years but without proof there was nothing much Ari could do to stop him. It didn’t help that he had an army of trained and loyal killers that somehow helped rogues destroy entire packs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ari stood up and tried moving forward when Gabe presented a gun and pointed at him.

Gabe tsked. “Be smart, Ari. I came in peace, I promise.” His smile was taunting.

“What do you want?” Ari gritted through his teeth.

“I have a proposition for you and you will accept it.” Gabe grinned maniacally. “I’ve been planning for months. You have a nice pack. Strong wolves. Pretty she-wolves. You have pretty much everything. Last I heard you were only missing a mate to have the perfect pack…”

“Sam, get Y/N back to the house. Now!”

“I’ve been planning your destruction and today, something made me realise that I didn’t have to plan so much. I don’t even have to do much. You have a weakness but then again, you are not even that strong. Ari Levinson, the mighty Alpha, but are you really?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” Ari repeated, his hands fisted and his face red. Nobody threatened him or what was his.

“How’s that pretty new wolf of yours, your mate? You know, I saw her shift earlier. Got the whole show for myself. It’s funny. I didn’t catch any scent that would indicate she’s been claimed, she was reeking of you but no mark on her soft neck…” Gabe taunted, waving his hand in front of Ari. “Since you don’t seem to care about her, what about I mate her? I wonder how she would look under me as I make her mine-”

Ari lost it. He grabbed Gabe by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Gun going off before dropping to the floor.

“One more word out of you and I’ll fucking end you.” He threatened. “She’s my mate, you hear me. Mine!”

Sam burst into the room. “Ari, Y/N… she’s gone.” Sam’s voice was frantic.

Gabe chuckled and Ari growled.

“Oops, too late I guess.”

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: a grain of millet drifting, ch. 3/3

Relationship: Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Characters, Nie Huaisang

Additional Tags: Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV Wei WuXian

Summary: Wei Wuxian reaches the Unclean Realm and talks to Nie Huaisang. 

Notes: See end

Chapters: 1 | 2 

AO3 link

———

Wei Wuxian wasn’t accustomed to having nothing to say, but as they entered the Unclean Realm he found himself searching for words. He’d always been able to fill silence, even with nonsense, but Nie Huaisang had perfected the facade of nonsense over the years, and he felt a little as though he was approaching a stranger. 

His old friend was fanning himself as he descended the battlement and approached them, the same fan he’d first carried during the Cloud Recesses lectures in that sweet summer before their world descended into hell. If he tried, he could almost pretend this was a visit from that august period—but only almost. 

“Aiya, Nie-xiong, I only caught your disciple when he took out the fifth assassin, he said,” Wei Wuxian finally settled on. “Someone seems to be spending quite a bit of money trying to kill me again—I’m almost flattered.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes seemed to narrow slightly over his fan, but when he snapped it closed he was smiling, the narrowing actually crinkling. 

“Wei-xiong, it was so nice of you to send Jiang-zongzhu a letter. He came to ask about it personally, and I think he was happy you thought of him.”

Wei Wuxian kept his face in a careless smile, though that cut at him a bit—he hadn’t seen Jiang Cheng since the Guanyin Temple debacle, and doubted his once-brother wanted anything to do with him, particularly after having learned about his deception regarding the golden core. He’d only sent the letter on the off-chance that it would impact Yunmeng or Lanling, as it was the least he could do after destroying the Jiangs. 

“Jin Ling will have enough problems leading that awful sect without surprise assassins,” he said with a shrug, “so of course Jiang-zongzhu would be concerned.”

The look Nie Huaisang gave him was almost pitying, but he said nothing in response, only ordering a couple of disciples to take Little Apple to the stables. 

“She prefers apples, but likes other fruit just fine, it seems,” he told them, letting them take the reins and lead her away. 

He didn’t bother with the saddlebags, knowing they’d wind up in whatever room had been set aside for him. 

Nie Hengxiang wasn’t quite able to stifle a snort of laughter when the donkey deliberately stepped on Wei Wuxian when she moved past him. Nie Huaisang’s lips twitched before he managed to get his fan up. 

Wei Wuxian almost made a crack about how the women in his life treated him, but none of them were still in his life, and shijie had never…

“There’s good food and wine,” Nie Huaisang said, somehow closer than he had been before. “Really, Wei-xiong, you don’t look like you eat nearly enough!”

He knew he’d lost some time, Nie Hengxiang in the distance following Little Apple, having apparently excused himself at some point during his fugue. 

It shook him, but it was easier to follow his old friend without comment, focusing on the changes in the Unclean Realm since his last visit over a decade before. It looked bustling, and there were more gardens and color, artwork and tapestries brightening the stonework. 

Anything to avoid thinking of his many mistakes and the people who had paid the price for them. 

Nie Huaisang kept up a running commentary about different pieces of art and their artists, about the tapestry industry he had worked to get started in Qinghe, trading for specially dyed silk thread from various places. 

The food was good and the wine was better. They were deep in their cups, still talking of frivolous matters, when Nie Huaisang sighed. 

“Wei-xiong, what on earth are you doing, wandering around?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere, and signaled a shift to more serious conversation that Wei Wuxian wasn’t certain he was ready for. So he pasted on a grin. 

“What’s so wrong with wandering, Nie-xiong? My parents were rogue cultivators, so why shouldn’t I be one as well?”

The look Nie Huaisang gave him was unimpressed at best, and certainly implied he didn’t buy Wei Wuxian’s smile. 

“You didn’t stay in Gusu. I thought you’d stay with Lan-er-gongzi.”

“He’s Chief Cultivator. Associating with the Yiling Patriarch would only make his job harder. He’s already got enough of a mess to clean up—he doesn’t need my messes on top of it.”

And, anyway, if he’d stayed he thought Lan Qiren would actually qi deviate, and he didn’t need that on his conscience. 

“And, anyway, where else would I go?” he asked, tiring of the game where they talked in circles. 

“Yunmeng. Here.”

Wei Wuxian took a big pull of wine, mostly in response to the first suggestion, which he’d rather not address. 

“I threatened you, so I figured you’d prefer I stay away.”

“It’s not like I didn’t deserve the warning, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said with a sigh. “I put far too many people in danger, and got others killed.”

He sounded almost sad. 

“Mo Xuanyu?” he couldn’t keep himself from asking. 

He was grateful for the second chance at life, such as it was, but the cost grated at him. 

“Mo Xuanyu had seen dage’s head in the treasure room, but… He didn’t want to live, even if I brought him to the Unclean Realm.”

Nie Huaisang twirled the wine jug in his hand, his expression morose. 

“I’d gotten to know him when he was in Lanling. I visited often enough to harass Jin Guangyao, after all. He was a gentle soul, and loved the arts. But his mother’s suicide broke what was left of him when that viper was finished with him.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t know what to say, but he could tell his old friend knows the true cost of that spell—that Mo Xuanyu was gone from all realms, his soul destroyed. Nie Huaisang, he could see, was well aware of that. 

“There was nothing I could do for him except offer the chance of vengeance.”

In the end, that was essentially all Nie Huaisang had gotten out of the whole ordeal—vengeance, justice, whatever they wanted to call it. He wondered if he would have preferred to bring his brother back instead of Wei Wuxian, but knew better than to ask. It would have been impossible, with Nie Mingjue’s soul trapped asunder in the scattered parts of his body. 

Wei Wuxian suspected his own soul had been shattered at his death, but it hadn’t been tied to his body. That, after all, had been destroyed, leaving the pieces of his soul to scatter to the earth. But the spell could fuse the pieces back together in the sacrificed body, so long as they hadn’t faded to nothing. 

Truly, he had to be grateful to Mo Xuanyu.

“No, I regret Qin Su’s death,” Nie Huaisang said. “Though her reputation would have been in tatters had she lived.”

There was no knowing if she had taken her own life with that understanding, or if she had been another victim of Jin Guangyao, controlled somehow by her husband and helpless but to watch herself plunge a knife into her own breast. Either way, whether a suicide or murder, it had arguably been caused by the letter Bicao had written at Nie Huaisang’s behest. 

“And I regret putting the juniors in danger,” he added. “Though I really didn’t mean Jin Ling to be at the temple. I didn’t plan for that.”

But he had endangered them by luring them to Yi City, and Xue Yang would have killed them without remorse, and enjoyed it. 

“I wish you hadn’t involved them, too,” Wei Wuxian said. “It was dumb luck they survived until Lan Zhan and I got there.”

“They have skills,” Nie Huaisang protested weakly. “Not like the two of you at their age, but sufficient to survive, at least.”

He had a point there, at least about the Lan juniors and maybe Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen, who seemed to have his head on straight. The rest had at least known to follow orders from a senior. 

“I don’t regret bringing you back, though,” Nie Huaisang said after the silence stretched a bit. “I missed you, Wei-xiong. You never treated me like I was useless, even when I was, and we had fun. I didn’t have any friends once you were gone.”

Wei Wuxian’s first inclination was to protest that Jiang Cheng was his friend… but he knew full well that shijie’s death had broken his once-brother. That had probably put a damper on any friendships he’d had. 

And Nie Huaisang had been alone after his brother’s murder, after the discovery that it had been a murder.

“I’m sorry you were alone,” he said, though it’s not his fault—he was dead at the time. 

Nie Huaisang offers a smile that looks exhausted, probably the first true one Wei Wuxian has seen from him. 

“You know, he taught me the song—the one he used to poison dage—so I could play it on a piccolo.”

A chill raced through Wei Wuxian as he realized what that meant, just how deeply Chifeng-zun’s death had impacted him—like how he’d been made into an instrument of his shijie’s demise. 

“He made you complicit,” he whispered. 

Nie Huaisang’s smile turned bitter. 

“If he’d just killed dage, he’d just be dead. But between the killing, the desecration, and that… I had to destroy him, Wei-xiong.”

Jin Guangyao had set up Jin Zixuan’s death, had caused the situation in which shijie had died… Wei Wuxian could understand Nie Huaisang’s desire for revenge. But revenge cycled over and over and just led to more death—had led to his own. 

“I know,” he said. 

But it didn’t bring back the dead—even he couldn’t really do that. Though people thought that was what he’d done with Wen Ning, it wasn’t quite correct. His body had been actively dying when he’d reanimated him with resentful energy, which had essentially put him in a sort of stasis. He was in between life and death. 

“But dage’s still gone,” Nie Huaisang said, as though reading his mind or seeing a tell on his face. “As are all of the other victims.”

Wei Wuxian set his bottle of wine aside, no longer having the taste for it. All he could focus on was the bitterness of it, and he took no pleasure from it now. 

“More bodies pile up, more blood is spilled. All we taste is gall,” he murmured, thinking of a poem he once read, one that romanticized war.

Much was written on the idea of just wars, often the defensive or punitive kind. But most people felt their wars were somehow just, and the opposing side or sides unjust. And regardless of the writings, he’d seen himself how non-combatants were massacred despite the philosophies of both Mengzi and Xunzi stating the execution of even one blameless person was inhumane and unrighteous. So much of the end of the Sunshot Campaign had been filled with acts of injustice, a disregard of jus in bello.

He found himself suddenly tired, feeling the weight of everything—his hubris, the people who died because of him, who continued to die because of him in service of someone who wanted him dead, his own death. 

“Is it so wrong to just want peace?”

He’d thought, having died once, that perhaps his sins—those he was guilty of and those he was falsely credited with—had died with him. If so, they had been resurrected with him, because even if some of the air had been cleared, he was expected to die again. 

Now he was just so tired, and there was nowhere he could go where he could just exist and rest. Anywhere he went, people would find reason to take offense to his existence, to make rest impossible. 

Wei Wuxian hated that sometimes even now, despite Mo Xuanyu’s sacrifice to resurrect him, he wished he was still dead. He didn’t remember anything of the years that had passed, only a sort of peace that had perhaps come from nonexistence. 

Times like these he felt like his skin was too tight. 

“Wei-xiong?”

Nie Huaisang was looking at him with concern, which was almost funny. Before his death, Wei Wuxian would have said he wouldn’t understand what he was concerned about. Now… even he had scars. 

“Too much wine,” he demurred. “I should… I guess I should sleep it off. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

That got a frown. 

“Wei-xiong, I’m still looking into the assassins. Please at least stay until it’s handled?”

Right. They hadn’t addressed it. Wei Wuxian had assumed Nie Huaisang had already handled it, which he supposed said something about how high his expectations of his old friend had become, now that he knew his role in Jin Guangyao’s downfall. 

“It’s pretty peaceful here, and we have a lovely library, and good food and wine, and you can rest and get a nice bath,” Nie Huaisang rambled, his tone at the end implying he thought Wei Wuxian needed one.

His old friend’s words, about not regretting bringing him back, came back to him, and Wei Wuxian was belatedly gratified that more than one person was glad he was alive again. He’d left the other one in Gusu. Well, maybe there were more than two—A-Yuan and Wen Ning counted.

“All right, all right,” he said, waving his hands to get him to stop. “I’ll stay, at least until the assassin thing is dealt with.”

Nie Huaisang’s smile was so full of relief and hope, it was almost heartbreaking to think he’d spent so much time alone with his revenge. 

“I wish you’d told me, though,” he said, schooling his voice into petulance, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. 

“If I’d told you about the assassins you might have thought I was threatening you,” Nie Huaisang said, pouting. 

That was fair. After all, he’d threatened Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, and was used to getting threatened himself. It wasn’t what he was thinking about, though.

“Well, maybe. But I meant when Lan Zhan caught you at the man-eating tomb. Couldn’t you have just told us everything then?”

“If I told you and Lan-er-gongzi, he might have told erge,” his old friend pointed out. “And if he tipped off Jin Guangyao, all bets were off about whether any of us would have survived.”

Wei Wuxian remembered the way Lan Xichen had been taken captive, the garrote against his own neck and then Jin Ling’s, the death of Qin Su and the fact that Jin Guangyao had killed his son, father, brother, and cousin, Nie Mingjue, and likely hundreds of other people to rise to power. 

Here all Wei Wuxian had wanted to do with his own power, the power everyone was convinced he’d use for ill, was farm potatoes (not radishes) in a mass graveyard and protect the people he’d rescued. He’d acquired power out of necessity, to win the war, not because he wanted to babysit the cultivation world—that sounded fucking exhausting and he felt bad Lan Zhan was now stuck in the role. 

“True,” Wei Wuxian mused. “We caught him relatively by surprise and he still managed to kidnap the juniors and organize another siege of the Burial Mounds.”

Plus the situation at the Guanyin temple in Yunping had been very touch-and-go. There had been so many ways it could have gone badly, and nearly did. He was still amazed no one had died—aside from Su She and Jin Guangyao and their peons, but he didn’t care about them.

Nie Huaisang finished his wine and set the empty jar aside.

“In the inn, when I told you about the issue with the sabers…” he started, then sighed.

Wei Wuxian knew what he was asking.

“As the foremost expert on demonic cultivation and resentful energy, you’re hoping I’ll see if I can solve your qi deviation issue while I’m in the Unclean Realm,” he said, not without mirth.

“I know you like puzzles, Wei-xiong. And you get bored easily.”

Nie Huaisang wrinkled his nose at him with a knowing smile, and Wei Wuxian remembered, back in Cloud Recesses, pushing his friend off-balance and into the freezing cold stream out of boredom. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll do less damage with something to occupy me, as you well know. I suppose I can take a look.”

“Excellent!” Nie Huaisang said, fiddling with his fan in a practiced way, but not bringing it to his face. “Now, we’ll discuss your compensation tomorrow, after you’ve gotten a nice bath and some rest. Your quarters are fully furnished, and I took the liberty of stocking it with some better quality and less threadbare robes…”

As Wei Wuxian feigned righteous indignation, he realized the prospect of staying here made him feel more centered, like he had found a place he actually could rest in this new world, somewhere where he wouldn’t be a burden, where he could maybe do some good.

He thought maybe Nie Huaisang had recognized that in him, but maybe also in himself—that they could help each other in what amounted to a time of transition for them both.

Wei Wuxian could rest here for a while, taking in a refreshing breeze, before he continued wandering this terrestrial world. 

---------

The poem Wei Wuxian is thinking of is Wei Wang’s “Song of Mt. Yanzhi,” which is more a celebration of war, but it’s a remembered line that hits him here. 

Regarding the issue of just war (and aggressive vs. defensive vs. punitive war), there’s a lot written on it in multiple cultures’ philosophies. Famously, Mengzi/Mencius resigned his post in the Qi dynasty when the Qi army killed non-combatants and plundered wealth. There are some really fascinating papers on this issue. Jus in bello is a really fascinating concept involving the responsibilities an invading army has to the inhabitants of the area they are invading. Yes, I read scholarly research articles when writing this chapter, because that’s how I roll.

The last line is a reference to Su Shi’s “First Ode on the Red Cliffs,” same as the title.

Nope, we don’t know who sent the assassins, but Nie Huaisang is working on it, so you know it’ll be resolved (hopefully in less than a decade this time). This fic is about their reconciliation, with that being an unresolved thread. Wei Wuxian’s feelings about Lan Wangji are also unresolved, as is the status of his relationship with Jiang Cheng. If I get inspiration, I might make this a series and handle those in the future. We’ll see!

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter Six

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Word Count: 2721 (this actually comprises chapters 7 and 8 on Ao3)

THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: it... it is a thing. Good luck friends lol

Warnings: smut and language and that’s probably it. mentions of death and gun violence probably, it’s been a while since I wrote this

Chapter One   Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four   Chapter Five

We sat, assessing one another and picking at our plates of food, more for something to do with our hands, as opposed to nothing at all. In those moments I could just read in his body language the fact that he had put two and two together and remembered why I looked so familiar. He had been responsible for training my sister when she failed on missions, whereas I had never had to face the wrath of the Winter Soldier and his handlers. For a year or so after we escaped, my sister and I saw his face in every passing stranger, terrified Hydra was coming back to reclaim us.

Because to Hydra, we weren’t members of a team, as they had initially led my sister and I to believe. We were their property, attack dogs trained to be set loose every once in a while. Caged, every other time. I let my fork clatter to the table before folding my fingers underneath my chin to support my head as I stared at the man across from me.

Barnes followed suit, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. His ice blue eyes flashed to mine before he took a sharp breath in and out and then spoke for the first time since he’d walked through my door just under an hour ago.

“So, were you sent here to bring me in? Wanda doesn’t seem to think so but I’ve known Hydra for a few more decades than she has, so I’m warier.” Simple and to the point. Disciplined even, to any onlookers there might have been. But, as a fellow survivor of Hydra saw all his tells, the brightness of his eyes, the clenched teeth and slightly hunched shoulders. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he wasn’t fully seated either, prepared to spring up at any moment, despite his look of nonchalance.

“You should trust Wanda more. No, soldat, I didn’t come to bring you in. You know,” I said, chuckling drily, “I thought this conversation was going to happen years ago but in reverse. Did no one from Hydra come looking for us? Before they went under? Or were Nadia and I just new playthings for you and yours?” I asked, ice coating my harsh tone.

Bucky flinched at my use of Russian and again at the name of my sister. So he did remember us. Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better about his presence here.

“Our superiors were… rather distracted by certain developments and felt that you all would return to your homes. I guess their arrogance finally got the better of them in that regard. And then, with the new threat of Thor, Steve and Tony and the convergence of the Avengers on the world scale, they more than likely shoved your files deep down. Though I’d imagine your recent resurfacing has been noted by rogue Hydra factions that are still operating around the globe.”

A solid enough explanation for why no one had come for Nadia and I. Another thing I had to thank the Avengers for, I supposed. “So, what happens now? Wanda has seen all she needed to see to support me. Where will the others fall in line?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, leaning forward so his elbows rested on the table. “Steve believes Wanda and is willing to work with you. Same goes for Natasha and Clint and the Maximoffs. Tony… well, he may get over this sooner than he did before but I wouldn’t count on it. We still haven’t figured our shit out, though I was the one who killed his parents in person. But I didn’t do it in my right mind. That’s the difference between the two of us I suppose.”

I laughed, darkly at first before it rapidly became hysterical, but I managed to keep a handle on the powers inside of me. “You really think I was in my right mind Barnes? After years of the torture and abuse I suffered at the hands of my parents to then be rescued and groomed by an evil organization when I was barely twelve? Not even close. But by the time I realized what Hydra really was, it was too late. They weren’t letting us go, not without exacting a terrible price.”

Barnes sighed and looked back at me, eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “You did come here willingly. And you show no ill intent, despite your obvious penchant for self-destructive tendencies.” I couldn’t exactly disagree. “I think you’ll find that you’ll fit right in with this merry little band of superpowered misfits. We’re all a little broken here.”

Nodding, I pushed back my chair and stood up, grabbing my plate to dump its contents into the trash can when Barnes spoke again. “You’re not on lockdown anymore. I would advise against leaving the Tower, but this is your home now. Not a prison. And we’d like for you to treat it that way. Just… maybe avoid tony for a little while.”

Yeah, easy enough when you live a few doors away from the guy. But, Barnes did have a point. He stood and moved to the door and wished me goodnight before slipping through the door without a backward glance.

I tossed and turned that night, but not due to overwhelming nightmares, which was a welcome change of pace. No, my skin itched and my brain raced, looking for something to hold on to, looking for any sort of distraction. My body begged me to take action, to do something. After days of being laid up, even just a simple jog sounded like it would hit the spot for my restless limbs.

I gave in at around two in the morning, throwing on my leggings, slick work out short and tennis shoes before pulling my hair back. Then I was out the door and down to the rec level of the Tower, which was like a carnival for enhanced people.

For the first hour, I thought I was alone as I ran a few miles, lifted so small-ish weights and completed over a hundred sit-ups, which isn’t a lot, but it wasn’t half bad for a warm up. It wasn’t until I was shadow boxing that I realized I wasn’t alone. I felt a rapturous presence behind me and to the left. So I spun quickly and jabbed at the face of the intruder, only to punch… two feet?

“Hey, don’t you know it’s rude to touch someone else’s feet without consent. Could sue you for harassing me, you know.”

Parker. Spidey, it seemed, had decided to literally hang out behind me, upside down, suspended from the ceiling. “What do you want Buggy?” I asked as if nothing had transpired between us over the past few, very eventful dates.

“Sometimes I just hang around here at night. Calms me down, plus the ceilings are high enough that I can practice some more… out of the box acrobatics without embarrassing myself and ending up on the front page of the Daily Bugle again. You know how they are.” I did actually. Their constant tirade against Spider-Man was one of the few things that actually made me laugh out loud.

But I totally understood the need for peace and quiet and to kind of get rid of the riff-raff. So I smiled brightly and asked Buggy if he could show me how exactly he managed to get that tensile strength in the material he used for his webs.

To say Peter was like a toddler around science would be an understatement. But it made us both happy. So we went, the past firmly behind us.

Peter and I spent the rest of the night in the labs. Mostly, it was just Peter demonstrating how each of his projects worked, like the changes he was making to his web formula and improvements he was making to his suit to change the way he could interface with his A.I. Karen.

Sometime later, as the sun was sluggishly rising, FRIDAY gently (for an AI) reminded Peter and me that now would be the only time to shower, eat and dress before training commenced for the day. At the reminder, Peter simply grimaced, and I returned the expression. What was waiting for me down on the common floor couldn’t possibly be good. Peter pushed down the sleeves of his sweatshirt nervously and gestured for me to follow him as he stepped into the elevator.

Down on the common floor, everyone was nursing their own cup of coffee, steam billowing into their faces. Well, everyone except Thor. He had a beer stein full of chocolate milk that he nearly chugged as he giddily bounced up and down in his seat, the godly equivalent of a toddler and golden retriever wrapped in one muscly package of happiness and positivity.

Without a word, Pietro handed Peter and I both our own coffees. Mine was an iced cold brew. Some deep, nearly dead part of me was touched that he remembered my disdain for hot, weak drinks. He winked at me as he turned back to return to his spot next to the fridge, but not before swiping another donut from the breakfast bar. Something must have happened before Peter and I arrived because Clint and Sam both glared daggers at Pietro.

“So...” I began, “we going to talk about the elephant in the room or ignite it until we hit the training rooms and punch it out?”

Steve and Wanda looked up sharply from the food in front of them, taking not so sneaky glances at the others. Tony was gripping his coffee mug so hard, if he’d been anyone else in the room, it would have shattered. Sam just looked weary and Bucky... he was leaning up against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. He almost looked disappointed.

“Punching it out seems to be the winner. If you have a problem with me or need questions answered, you know how to get them. Beyond that, I’m not leaving so don’t even try.” I began choking up out of nowhere. “I’m not letting those bastards take another home from me. You all have always been nothing but kind and I treated that kindness with deception and indifference. But I’m going to blame that on the whole, kindness being a completely new experience for me. Obviously, I mean everyone here no harm...” I petered off, not knowing what to say to get my feelings across. I looked around, lost, capturing the gazes of Pietro and Bucky, who both just nodded back at me.

Bucky pushed off of the counter and approached me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Kaida is no more Hydra than I am. If you trust in me, be open to trusting her. We’ve all... made mistakes.”

Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

Even Thor looked uncomfortable at this point and Tony was just straight up heading for the elevator without a backward glance. Bruce trailed after him, shrugging apologetically. Seconds that felt like hours passed and finally, the elevator began to descend to the lab floors.

“Alright team, move out. We have work to do,” Steve said in his most Captain-y voice. And damn if it wasn’t kind of hot. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I could tell just from the shift from light blue to icy gray in Bucky’s eyes that he was going to be pulling Rogers into his room later. Or sooner, depending on how tight his shirt was today

Hours and buckets of sweat later and the whole team broke for lunch. As expected, no one took me up on my offer but we still weren’t pre-incident buddies anymore. Bucky and Pietro seemed most inclined to stick by my side while Wanda was off with Vision. Peter gave me these weird agonizing glances from across the main training floor the whole time. The kid was weird. Who knows what he got up to in his own brain.

Anyways, I knew what I had to do as soon as I stepped on to the elevator, moments after everyone else left to the cafeteria area. There was a confrontation that was way overdue.

As soon as I stepped out on to the slightly grimy linoleum floor of the lab, Bruce looked up and blanched before quickly shoving his papers and laptop into a satchel and bounding for the elevator before it closed behind me.

“Good luck,” he muttered shakily. I nodded in thanks and a moment later he was gone. A quick look around told me that Tony must be in a back room somewhere, probably grabbing parts. In the background, Black Sabbath tinkled through the inlaid speaker system.

“Brucey, darling, do you want to go with blue or green for the new nanotech in Veronica?? Or maybe purple, unless that would be too on the no-.” He quickly cut himself off as he came waltzing around the corner of desks and displays to see me perched on his stool.

“Get out,” he growled, standing stock still, shoulders tense. When I didn’t move, he did, reaching for the minibar he had installed on the wall opposite me, pulling out a bottle of scotch and taking a swig.

“Well if it’s going to be that kind of party...” I drawled darkly before reaching down into my gym bag and pulling out my flask of bourbon and followed suit. Tony didn’t exactly roll out the welcome wagon after that but he did seem to relax a bit. At the very least, he didn’t summon what was left of the Iron Legion protocol to physically remove me from his presence.

“Why are you here Kaida?” Tony finally asked, ice coating his words as they pierced into me in ways I wasn’t expecting.

“Is it so odd for a former assassin to check up on her friends? I mean, it would be a shame to just throw everything away for a simple misunderstanding right? At the very least we have to work and live together. Unless you intend to kick me out?” I stared Tony down, waiting for that explosive anger that I knew he was trying to shove deep down.

“Oh Kaida, we were never friends. We fucked. But I’d fuck anything with two legs and a rack. I think you know that as well as I do. The only reason I ever gave up that life was Pepper and, well, you know exactly how that turned out.”

“Again, not my doing. I was long gone by the time someone executed the hit they had on her.”

“But you knew and you did nothing. Warned no one. You know, it’s not like I’m hard to find. A literal skyscraper that used to have my name on it not stand out to you?”

“I-,” I began, searching for any explanation for my inaction. As terrible as it was to admit, I’d simply never considered interfering with Hydras plans. I was much more concerned with keeping my sister and myself alive at the time.

“You know,” Tony said, interrupting my frantic, guilty train of thought, “some kid once told me that when you have the powers and abilities that we do and do nothing, then the bad things that happen, they happen because of you. Maybe you should chew on that for a little while Kaida. I won’t kick you out but I don’t want to see your face around my space for a long while.”

And then, like a switch flipped in my body, hot rage filled me. What did this entitled, rich snob know about being a kid my age and seeing the shit I’d seen? When he was my age he was partying every night and wrecking Bentley’s and Aston Martin’s like it was nothing, like nothing mattered to him at all.

“Maybe you should grow a pair then Stark. You’re really angry, huh? Prove it. Fight me. Kick me out. We both know I can take it. You saw the bruises when I first moved in. Couldn’t be missed with that lack of clothing when we first got acquainted. Do your worst.”

Suddenly he was in my face again, hatred and something else raged in his eyes. Maybe not hatred at me, but at the reaction, I could always weasel out of him. Had been doing for my past few weeks at the Tower.

Stark slammed his bottle down on the desk right beside me before wrapping his hand through the hair at the back of my hair hard, twisting and pulling me forward before viciously kissing and biting my neck. It was painful but not in a way that made me inclined to push him away.

“God I hate you so much,” he said and he ripped my shirt up and over my head before taking a step back.

“Wanna be useful? Turn around and bend over the desk, hands behind your back. And don’t move a muscle.”

I did as he said, breath coming out in gasps.

Oh, this was bad.

Really bad.

Or maybe really good.

TAGLIST: @peeterparkr @laurfangirl424 @private-bucky-barnes

[pass3rby]

Element of Surprise

#1

Fandom: X-men (movies) Pairing: Allerdrake (Pyro/Iceman) Summary: Everybody has to make decisions. Decisions that might or might not work out. He wasn’t in a habit of looking back either way.

A/N: 

Greatest thanks to my brother from another mother for bestowing an infectious prompt upon me and all the wretched jokes that accompanied his insightful comments. You’ve been a great help and an ass at the same time.  The rest of my gratitude belongs to my dear family who has an immaculate sense of recognizing each highlight and “I saw the light!” moment of my writing, reliably and effectively ruining every single one of them. You’ve been an invaluable teacher of forced multitasking (which I still fail at spectacularly).  Thank you, guys, for harassing me at the most unfortunately-picked times imaginable but standing by me still.  Love you.

St. John Allerdyce was a survivalist. And this might be a very sucky way to begin one's story, but he was nothing but cut-the-crap kind of guy, so go deal.

Where was he again? Ah, yes. Good at the pretend game, he knew how to play tough; easily irked when deprived of a fire source. Bad-tempered, really. All of these stellar qualities went well with him being a realist to the bone. Wrap it up and ship it off.

He wasn't confessing all that out of some twisted delusion of having a chance at redemption, though. Wanting to save his tar-dark soul? No. It was only so that when he says that he's done morally questionable things to pull through, it would be clear that it was no slip up, not a 'few times' kind of deal. He's actually done them more often than not. Not that he counted; just saying. That was what he meant by being a survivalist. That was what this was about.

The main point here? He kept on going. Always found a way. Pushed. Squeezed in. Got his hands dirty. Gritted his teeth. Whatever it took. Morality was overrated where he lived; nobody abided by it anyway, so why should he? He was just a 'misfit' trying to get by, same as the next guy from a broken home.

On the streets and on his own. Making it, no matter the circumstances. That was the source of his pride. He might have turned out brash as a result, distrusting on a good day and suspicious round the clock, but who gave a shit. Certainly not him, not when it kept him alive this whole time.

When the X-men found him, he didn't feel elation; not even relief and he was far from thankful, too. He suspected the worst and he kept on running from them until they corralled him in and got him on their overly flashy and disgustingly impressive jet.

They took him in; full of reassurances that he'll be alright from then on, that he'll be safe now. Who were they to tell him that? Who were they to be so sure about it, to have balls to warrant that? What was the guarantee? Their skin-tight black&yellow spandex? If so, allow him to doubt the empty promise, because those were a sight for sore eyes – literally, just to make them sore.

Everything would work itself out and quite naturally in its usual, wary and solitary way, though (after all, once you lean onto someone, you're only bound to fall sooner or later) – if only they didn't have Bobby Drake on their "team" already.

The guy was way too cheery and overly friendly. Optimistic. An impersonification of a 'Think positive!' attitude, "Not made from concentrate, one hundred percent natural". It was almost like he was shooting for some such ad twenty-four seven. Think about the descriptive adjectives for a straight-laced goody two shoes from suburbs; you name it, he's that.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was dandy.

Bullshit.

He couldn't stand the guy. The poster boy irritated him; got on his nerves like no one else before. John was way too pragmatic to join this sort of let's pretend. But when dear Bobert started cracking, show that not everything was quite so well in his lala land… That's when John took real notice and interest.

You see, he couldn't be arsed to give a flying fuck about some fake looser, but a kid who had his whole life perfectly lined up and sorted only to get "screwed over" by mutation his parents wouldn't take well to? That was John's kind of real that he was willing to interact with.

Sure, Drake was still a sunny boy with majority of views intact and therefore headdesk-ishly naive, but he wasn't all plain "guy next door" (quotation marks because same door actually) anymore. And while John's own personality and stands had been torn down or have crumbled and been rebuilt time and time again, making him into who he was (coincidentally basically the opposite of his roommate), he and the Snowflake there suddenly had a link of communication and it held ever since then. Thus, their companionship begun.

It didn't hurt they both were element-sensitive – that wasn't to say their co-existing was a cakewalk, though. After all, like Ice and Fire, they too were diametrically different. Just a small example to draw a picture here: while Bobby was afraid of his abilities, scared of his element, John felt an undeniable thrill whenever setting free his own; he loved to see fire reign over anything in its way, watch it burn strong.

Ultimately, their mindsets resulted in both of them failing and it was all for the best that they were roommates in the end, because accidents.

Reason number two was that they were a good "confidence boost" and "recklessness dampener" (whatever) respectively for each other, too. That's what their instructors said, but if anybody asked John what it was for him, he just simply enjoyed coaxing Sub-Zero ("Very funny, you pyromaniac." "C'mon, that was weak. You'll have to do better than that, Ice Cube.") out of his shell, letting his fire frolic with its counter element. Negative and positive of the same, if you wanted to get poetic.

Of course, there was also the aspect of them both being young and as such, hormone-driven, too. He was always open to some serious self-exploring opportunity. Safe environment for that wasn't a given, not for him, and even less so in combination with someone begrudgingly-trustworthy (i.e. with no other agenda hidden behind the forementioned romping between the sheets).

It was nothing; just fooling around – one that was kept secret from their teachers and anyone, really, since Bobby-boy was too chickenshit to admit to a healthy dose of experimenting himself. John couldn't care less; he wasn't the guy's keeper after all.

Until he somehow turned out to be. What was worse? Without him even expecting it. You see, the thing was… he kinda screwed himself over. For all his puffed-up chest and big shoulders about how he was prudent and cautious, he landed himself in a swamp (or moving sand if he'd so chose to rather stay dry; same difference, though) right there. Knee deep and it was only a matter of time until it swallowed him up whole.

It was all the Ice-berk's ("I'm not stupid, John!" "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.") fault. If he wasn't so pure and open and easy to approach – hell, he, approaching him all of his own! – in the first place, John wouldn't have fallen into this trap.

Who was he kidding. He blew it. Big time.

But it was still all good, right? What he meant was, there was no rush or anything. They could simply keep at it the way they had up til now with Ice Ice Bobby none the wiser and everyone chilling, pun intended.

He should have known that he was never meant to have a happy end. Not ever (as if life hadn't showed him enough indications to that already) and definitely not with Snow White on top of that. When had he sunken so low as to think he even could?

Shame. Shame on you, St. John Allerdyce.

As he was forced to witness and live the changes that wafted in after Rogue's appearance and continued presence, years of evolved camaraderie and any ease connected to it began to shrivel.

He had suddenly more free time on his hands than what he knew what to do with, his subconsciousness developed an almost uncontrollable need for a facepalm at least once per every 24 hour mark, his teeth were bound to rot any day now with the diabetes-inducing teenage romance developing before his eyes and he better man-the-fuck-up right now, because he did not make it this far only to become a sob story.

So, he watched with skeptical interest as Bobby, encouraged by Rogue's supporting words, froze his mother's disgustingly milk-ruined coffee instead. John knew long before they had even opened their mouths, what side Bobby's parents would pick, what their reaction would be. He could not keep his sarcastic thoughts pointed at his roommate from emerging then.

Why did you think, all of a sudden, they won't mind? We talked about your bigoted parents so many times… You think that you having a girlfriend like a good, normal teenage boy somehow neutralizes your negative mutant points?

If not knowing better, John would say Bobby did it on purpose just to fuck with him. Nobody could be that sickeningly foolish after all. And the Drakes? He silently dared them to surprise him; to call their "Art teacher" out on his blatant lie even. To prove him wrong.

Which would be when Wolverine got shot in the head right infront of them. That did surprise him, John will give them that.

An unexpected rush of everything followed right after and with startling clarity.

One too many black eyes.

Sleeping in a cardboard box, freezing (nobody cared).

Broken jaw.

Stealing a pack of matches the first time around – to get to feel at least a bit safe (they were too tricky to operate, to strike with shaking hands, wrong move there wrong wrong wrong).

Hungry, impotent anger.

Running away.

The breath; foul and heavy with booze.

First fire (pure accident please!).

His mother on the floor, bleeding (never fighting back; just taking it run!).

Heavy hands.

Cops chasing him back into slums (you'd have to know it here better to catch me, assholes).

Bloodshot bottomless eyes. A vortex about to swallow him up, too.

Events flashing before his mind's eye at random and in no chronological order.

His heart not having a foggiest how to deal with the overabundance of adrenaline that jumped up out of nowhere.

"And the rest of you, on the ground. Now."

He could almost physically feel Wolverine, right before his feet, lifeless.

See Bobby, lying down, obedient.

"Look, kid. I said, on the ground."

Rogue, too; docile.

They can't be serious. Why were they kidding themselves? They were gonna die here.

"We don't want to hurt you, kid."

Really. The fucking cop just shot Wolverine. If they won't protect themselves… They're dead. If he's not gonna do anything now…

He gulped. Palmed his zippo; the warmed-up steel that bit slicker with sweat. Or sick memory?

C'mon, Pyro, show up. Fight.

In the pit of his stomach, hot magma twisted and curled, warming him up until he could almost sense the licks of unborn fire on his fingertips.

There.

He won't lie down. Not until he's six feet under.

A/N: So I’ve found something of a themesong for EoS I think. If you’re wondering, you can check it here.

A bit of explanation on a side:

My idea is that St. John Allerdyce still has Australian background, he just moved to US with his family when he was a small kid or something. So... just bear with the little mess, please. I love him being "St. John" way too much as to delete half of it from my story.

Also, I’ll deviate a bit from the movies timeline (which is a tangle anyway) in this version (I got two total, don’t panic), which you’ll notice on the transition from X-2 movie to X-3.

[dis-easedfairy]

Impulsive Decision pt.2

Chapter 2: The Duck Tape Pillar

WARNINGS: SWEARING/STRONG LANGUAGE | KIDNAPPING | MENTIONS OF MURDER |

Pairing: BTS x Reader / Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2,723

Summary:  Y/n is the owner of a very wealthy and successful company, Barnanby Inc. Y/n attends a BTS show. They make a very impulsive decision to show a loophole in BTS’s security and end up kidnapping BTS and 2 girls. In a fit of panic Y/n stashes BTS and the girls in a very luxurious bunker for the time being, but Y/n’s world slowly starts to crumble the longer the boys are out of the public’s eye.

A/N: This is mostly angst with a small amount of fluff at the end.

"Okay, my friend is gone, I'm calm, I'm confused and mildly stressed, aka me most of the time. I'm sorry you had to see me pop off on 'My-Daddy-Is-A-Lawyer' over here, but I'd like to show you the rest of the bunker. If any of you try what she or Jimin did, you will be exiled to the ducktape pillar until you learn manners, are we clear?" I stated, walking out the bathroom in front of them all. 

Everyone nodded, all but the girl ducktaped. I walked over to the double doors and slid them open revealing a very open layout. It was a nice spacious living room with three couches, large tv, and speakers. A normal sized kitchen behind the living room and a dining room with a large table.

I had the whole place black, white and gray besides a few things here are there that were different colors of the rainbow to add some personality. I walked into the dining room with them following. There were two openings on the left and right of the dining room. 

I turned around to face them

"To your right is a hall that leads to a gym, a locker room, an office, a library and a bathroom. To your left are the bedrooms. There are only 4 done so you may have to share rooms. I was supposed to have the other four rooms fixed up, but never got around to it and never saw a need to. Also, there is a laundry room and 3 large bathrooms in that hall because I prepped this bunker for my family and they take like 3 hours in the bathroom for some reason. You are free to play my arcade games, eat my snacks, drink my alcohol and do as you please. Be sure to eat dinner and I'll be back." I announced and began to walk out. 

"You're not staying?" Jimin asked quickly.

I stopped to turn to them, they all seemed panicked.

"Don't worry this place isn't riddled with traps or anything. I'm only leaving to tell my company I'm taking a week off, get food and inform my family that I'm going rogue for a week or so."

"'Going rogue'?" RM questioned.

" Your company??" J-Hope asked.

"Yeah, I do this thing where I just drop off the face of the earth for a few days. It usually happens when I'm depressed, or just want to be alone. They understand already. Yes, my company, I inherited it from my dad. It started from cartoons to TV to toys, how else does someone acquire enough money to build a bunker with 8 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, large TV and speakers, a nice kitchen, a gym, office, library and gaming room all well stocked with top of the line equipment? I'll be back in a bit." I began walking out once more.

   I ended up over-shopping. I got too much food and bought clothes for the boys, hoping they'd fit. I got out my car and started loading everything at the dial door. I made sure I had everything before I closed and locked the vault door and opened the punched in the code, loading everything in the now empty feeling room. I noticed the girl wasn't taped to the pillar. I sighed. I slid open the doors dramatically.

"HeLLO FELLOW BITCHES!" I called out moving bags to the kitchen.

Jimin and Suga were sitting on the couches, mindlessly watching TV, I could hear an argument happening between Jungkook and Jin along with a Mortal Kombat tune playing.

Jimin jumped up and went to grab bags from the previous room and Suga gave me a look I couldn't figure out.

"What's with the look?" I asked, starting to load things in the fridge.

"Why so many bags? Are they too heavy?"

"I got a lot of food and clothes for you all. Unless you like using the same underwear and hoodie for a week, then be my guest." I tried to make it seem like his sudden concern didn't faze me.

Jimin came in with a ton of bags, dropping them on the floor and started helping me put things away. 

"Since when did you become helpful?" I asked Jimin suspiciously. 

Jin walked into the dining room, he saw me and gave me a small smile.

"Hello, how was the trip?" He asked softly, walking up the counter, looking curiously through the bags.

"Fine, I guess. I got a lot of food and got you all clothes, where is everyone?"

"Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok are in the gaming room cheating," I let out a small giggle. "Namjoon is in the library with Seongmi and Linza."

"Which one is the one I dislike? Ducktape Girl I mean."

Jin was trying not to laugh as he got the name 'Linza' out. 

"How's your back?" Jimin asked quietly. 

"Okay, what's going on?? Suga looked at me funny but asked if the bags were too heavy. You held a knife to my back and are now asking how my back is feeling like you weren't threatening to stab it a few hours ago. Jin has been mostly calm this whole time and it's starting to freak me out." I admitted. 

"Yah! When I have I not been calm!?" Jin almost demanded, making me smile.

My phone gave off a notification that I had lost cell service from being in the bunker. It made me freeze. I walked over to Suga and held my hand out. 

"Hand over the phone."

He looked as if he was going to challenge me, but decided against it. He handed me his phone. I turned on the screen. An app was open, a recording app that had several 10-20 minute recordings on it within the past 4 hours. Since I kidnapped them. I frowned and handed his phone back. That's why he and Jimin seemed so concerned with me, they wanted to not be suspicious. They wanted to seem compliant.

"You're not deleting anything?" Jimin sounded timid, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing.

There was no doubt that he recorded me popping off on 'Ducktape Girl' when I was angry. Out of context, I would be painted as an unhinged monster in front of a judge, especially since 'Ducktape Girl' insisted her father was a lawyer. Not only that but my family's reputation with the law since my father passed was an extremely unsturdy bridge that was one gust of wind away from completely disintegrating. The police in the area were just praying to get a family member of mine to harass every day. I could go to jail for life.

I was going to jail for life. 

I felt my eyes begin to water at the thought. I didn't even consider how long I'd go to jail for this, or how much more my family would be ridiculed when I did go to prison. All because of my poor impulse control, all because I made a stupid decision and didn't back out of it once I saw it go south.

"I'm not deleting anything; That's destroying evidence. I'm going to bed. I had ruined my life enough today." I emotionlessly spilled out, turning to the big double doors. 

"You should eat something! Or at least a snack." Jin called out.

"You can eat all you want. I'm not hungry." I closed the double doors behind me and got on the large bed. 

I pulled out my phone. I saw I had a call from my mom. I pulled myself out the bed and opened the dial door, closing it behind me. I got outside the bunker and caught service, despite the bunker being in a forest in the middle of nowhere. I tapped 'call back' and waited.

"Hey, Y/n your brother and I were just having a debate, want to settle it?" I smiled a little.

"That depends, what are you two arguing about NOW?"

"Mom wants to make HER 'Watermelon Wonder' bullshits for our sister's picnic." My brother butt in.

They were clearly drinking. My mother would never let my brother call her 'Watermelon Wonder's 'bullshits' without some kind of influence.

Our family was into charity events, whether it be picnics, fairs, library 'parties' or even college parties, we always liked to help out those in need. We did this all year round whenever given the chance, but summer was our busiest season.

'Watermelon Wonder' was a concoction my mother forced us to drink when we were younger. My MOTHER'S recipe had different types of melon, plus every leafy or healthy green thing she could get her hands on. Broccoli, spinach, kale, peas, you name it, blended into a thick liquid that was practically paste. 

My FATHER'S recipe was just melons, mint and a small amount a lime blended into a smooth refreshing drink that was meant to be kept ice cold, we sold it in cans at our toy stores, it was a fundraiser tradition. 

"No mom, DAD'S 'Watermelon Wonder' is the only one that shall ever have our involvement." 

"HA! Remember when mom put WASABI in them!?"

I shivered at the memory as my mother and brother began bickering. No fun fundraisers in prison. No family dinners. No Drunk Family Night. No fulfillment of the promises I made to my father. My chest tightened making me let in a shaky breath that made my family stop bickering.

"Y/n? Honey, are you okay?" My mother asked.

The tears in my eyes spilled over.

"Yeah, just...depression." I lied. 

"Are you taking your pills?" 

"Yeah. I think I have to up the dosage. We still can't get it right. I'm sorry I can't be at the fundraiser, but I'll be sure to donate. I uh, need to make an appointment with our family lawyer too. I've been getting a property offer and want to make sure everything goes to you guys." 

"Seth hasn't seen you since your father passed, I'm sure he'd love to know you're scheduling. I heard you're trying to expand to games?"

I smiled and I began to cry more.

"Yeah, dad loved them so much." My voice wavered.

My mom let out a dreamy sigh. "I remember our first date was in an arcade. He joked that if we'd have kids, he'd ignore me and play video games with them. Sure enough, your brother and sister showed up, you shortly after, then your little sister, I barely got to see him out of office or off the living room floor. He somehow always remembered anniversaries, birthdays and what I was wearing on the 13th day of that month. He never, not once, made me feel neglected or not paid attention to. He loved me. He loved all of you."

"Sorry mom, I have to go, work is calling." I managed. 

"Okay, don't forget about your Dad's birthday coming up. We have a big even set up!"

"I won't, love you all." I hung up quickly and let out the sob that I was holding back.

I had so much to lose. I was so angry at myself. I texted Seth, the family lawyer to schedule an appointment, sent Jason a text, threatening him, telling him if he told anyone I'd let out all the details about the dirty magazine I found in his room when we were 10 and went back into the bunker. 

I fell into the large bed, hoping Freddy Kruger would do me a solid and pull me far away. No such luck.   I heard a soft knock on the double doors.

"You may be blessed with my presence," I called out loud enough for them to hear. 

The door slid open, showing V in a large white T-shirt and boxers, hugging a pillow. I sat up.

"What's up?" I asked softly, my voice was still hoarse from crying. 

He frowned, stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He climbed on the bed in front of me and sat there looking at me for a bit. 

"I want to get to know you." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Not much to know, just a crazy fan who kidnapped everyone." I laughed bitterly.

"I don't believe that."

I looked into his eyes, almost silently asking if we was serious. He was waiting patiently. I sighed, running my hands through my hair as I lied back. He quickly lied beside me, making my heart nearly jump out my chest and make a run for it.  I tried to stay as calm as a possibly could. The luminous god beside me was making it pretty difficult.

"I own my father's company. He was an aspiring game designer until he met my mother who was an animator. Most of the companies she went to, to sell her work denied it for more popular animators. Talent didn't get her anywhere. So my father switched gears for her and became a business student. He didn't even finish college but managed to win over anyone who got within 100 yards of him. People loved him. He made a ton of connections, got a lot of job offers, made a lot of money from 2 to 3 years of hard work, bought a company, named it after my mother's first character, 'Barnaby' and had his new buddies run ads, shorts and other animations on their networks.  My family's company got bigger, started showing their animations on their own platform. My older sister helps run that side of the company, Broadcasting and Entertainment. People wanted merchandise, my father expanded to toys that he and my mother designed. My younger sister helps with feedback and my older brother helps run that side, Toys and Merchandise. I was planning on moving to video games, my father used to love them. Every time he had a day off, I'd wake up to waffles with a tower of whipped cream on top, bacon, eggs, sausage, every berry he could find and every video game he could get his hands on. We'd all sit in the living room, until he had to go to work the next day, just playing games, having fun until that sun came up." I ranted, looking at the ceiling, smiling slightly.

"What happened to him?"

"He was murdered. His car somehow didn't have breaks suddenly in the middle of a busy highway. He crashed. The police said there was no foul play, My father was diligent with the car around that time since I was learning how to drive. The breaks weren't worn. Someone wanted him dead. They succeeded. My father always thought I was the most caring, likable, wittiest, smartest, bravest and most cunning of his children, so he gave me the company in his will." I let out another bitter laugh.

"He's probably the most disappointed billionaire ghost." I sighed feeling a sense of acceptance wash over me.

"Why would he be disappointed."

"Because I 'yeet'ed that shit out the window as I ran 12 red lights with 7 very famous idols and 2 innocent people in the back of a limo. All gone because I wanted to see how far I could go. Once I saw how far I could go, I was too afraid, too stupid to back out. Now I have a girl who says her father is a lawyer, an innocent girl whose family misses her dearly, 7 idols who are either terrified or disgusted in me in which case two of those idols have evidence that can destroy me, a best friend who can be labeled an accomplice,  a police force who hates my family and is just waiting for the moment when one of us slips, and a family who will get blindsided by the news that their 'Golden Y/n' finally snapped."

"I'm not terrified or disgusted in you." V whispered softly. 

"Are you saying this because you want plushies?"

"Yes." His boxy smile lifted my entire soul. 

I giggled. "I'll get you one tomorrow, any color preferences?"

"Gray. I'm sure everything will turn out okay." 

I turned on my side to look at him.

"I hope so. You know, V, you may be my new favorite." I yawned.

"Good, I like the crazy ones."

We both let out tired laughs.

"Call me Tae." He whispered.

"Okay, Tae. Call me, N/n. Nightie night."

( Previous Chapter ) - ( Next Chapter )

[bitchyfeminist]

Feminism: Empowerment or Oppression

I was raised as a feminist before the term ‘feminism’ was mainstream. My mother looked at my family women who felt that they were subservient to men and decided something needed to change.

In the late 70’s, my mother was born in a family of a young teenage mother and her teenage father, who were forced into either marriage or an abortion. They decided on the marriage, though were divorced shortly after because my grandfather was abusive toward my grandmother. My grandfather gave the same ultimatum to my own mother when she was pregnant at fifteen-years old. My grandfather tried to raise my mother to be someone who felt that women belonged in the home taking care of a husband and children, just as his family believed. But using the wise words of my mother, she said, “fuck that,” and raised two daughters to be strong and independent women who never needed to rely on anyone, no matter what.

My mother made us into the type of people that could be role models for young girls and women of all ages. Because of this, I’ve received numerous messages from not only my tumblr page, but even personal friends, who have commended me on being so outspoken during a time of harsh politics. My mother never wanted my sister and I to be like she was – a stay-at-home mom with four kids by the age of twenty-two – if we didn’t want to be. My mother has never been a stagnant person, and she didn’t want us to settle.

Obviously, I have my own opinions on the matter of feminism. This isn’t just about my opinions, though. This is about other’s opinions. This is about making up your own opinion using the ideas others share.

I’ve always believed feminism to be equality between the sexes. Helping to raise women up in the patriarchy and even helping men. While women have their issues with being disrespected and sexualized, men have issues when it comes to showing their emotions.

I believe feminism to be empowering to women. I believe it shows that women don’t have to be any different than men, and they don’t have to change. My little sister doesn’t have to babysit our cousins while the men move mattresses, she can help just as much – if not more since she was a competitive cheerleader and weightlifter in high school – as the men can.

But not everyone has the same concept of feminism. Some are similar, but everyone has their own version of what it is, just like everyone has their own version of religion. I’ve come to the conclusion over the years that some people don’t believe in the legal definition of feminism, that is, equality between men and women. Some reject the definition flat out.

And I’ve learned that many people these days don’t want to claim feminism as a title of theirs simply because of the negative stigma, though they do believe in gender equality. Rejecting the title of feminism doesn’t mean they don’t care, it just means they don’t consider themselves a feminist.

After making a post on tumblr, I became more aware of what many call “tumblr feminism”. I had never thought of others believing women to only want benefits to equality and not the consequences as well. I’ve always believed that if men have to sign up for the draft, women should be required to as well (but I don’t believe in the draft for anyone). That a male abuser should receive the same punishment as a female abuser. Some have lashed out at me and said I’m a supporter of the patriarchy because of this. Most have given their support on the matter. Some have even said I’ve given them faith in modern feminism because of my stance on the matter.

I’ve said so much about how I believe feminism to be, but it’s about time I get to the other opinions I mentioned earlier. I spoke to several different people on the matter of feminism*. I wanted to get plenty of different opinions about why they do or do not believe in it.

On tumblr user, content-stunner, says, “I belie[ve] that feminism is the fight for women to have what men have always taken for granted”. A sweet and simple idea of why this user supports feminism, and it brings up the great concept of women fighting for rights, such as voting, that men have always had given to them.

@silverthewolf2202 says, “feminism to me is just the idea that women are equal and should be seen like they are humans and can do the same as a man”. This is brought up well with the general idea of feminism – sometimes known as gender equality. They follow with, “I also think they shouldn’t always be so sexualized in movies”. There has been constant debate on women being oversexualized in video games with female character’s body armour, as well as female actors being sexualized for commercials and such.

Now, I wrote this next paragraph before Carrie Fisher passed away, but I want to include the original paragraph anyway. I had actually written this just days before she passed, and I wish she would have had the chance to see it.

“I don’t know if any of you are Star Wars fans, but when I saw the new one (no, not Rogue One), I heard people comment on Carrie Fisher’s “dwindling” looks more times than I can count. But no one said anything about Harrison Ford (may Han Solo rest in peace) and Mark Hamill wasn’t in it until the end, so you didn’t even really get to see him, but I know he’ll be in the next one. I think the only beneficial thing from Carrie Fisher’s aging is that Star Wars doesn’t oversexualize her like they did in the older movies anymore.

Carrie Fisher, you’re amazing. Don’t let people hate on your looks. You’re a mature woman who has aged gracefully. I hope you’re in the next Star Wars movie.”

An anonymous user stated, “I think feminism is very important because we live in a world where women still aren’t equal to men. To me, feminism is about making the world a better place for women in the future”. There are a lot of people who don’t agree with feminism because they believe they live in a world where women are equal to men. Many people like to believe that things like gender wage gaps and glass ceilings don’t exist.

Another anonymous user states, “I understand why they picked feminist, because the text-book definition of feminism implies what they’re trying to do; they want equality across all genders”. This viewpoint is particularly interesting because the anonymous user happens to be a man. I wanted to include a man’s opinion on the matter since the majority of feminists voicing their opinions happen to belong to women. He continues, “[S]ince you have that minority group of feminists that are the loudest and talk over everyone else (…) a lot of people who aren’t overly involved in it see feminists as not-good people (…) making other feminists look bad. And other feminists (…) just ignore it, but nothing ever really happens because the only people you see are the over-reactive people that are going to get offended by something and throw out tweets, Youtube videos, and comment on someone, when any intelligent and real feminist is the last to respond – not because they aren’t active, but because they are going to take their time and think about what they’re [saying] so they can get their words across without being taken out of context.” He finishes with, “[y]ou can do the whole feminist movement thing without calling yourself a feminist. You can call yourselves whatever and it shouldn’t matter. You have feminists and anti-feminists who believe in gender equality. For me personally, I agree with gender equality one-hundred-percent for every gender (…) not just male and female, but female to male – [trans men] – and male to female – [trans women] – but I wouldn’t call myself a feminist because of the minority that makes the group look bad and I’d rather personally just stay out of it”.

It was a long one that I’ve had to reduce, but I think he speaks volumes about the subject. To tell you the truth, this anonymous user and I were up for three hours in the middle of the night hashing out the subject and it was while he was talking that I started taking notes on his words. After we had finished our discussion, I asked if I could include what he said in this and he said yes. I’m glad he did.

Another anonymous user said, “[f]eminism is standing up for what is right. It’s fighting for fair and equal treatment of women and against systematic oppression” and that, “[f]eminism is something that shouldn’t have to exist, because men and women should be considered equals in all respects”.

The last user I was able to get into contact with is a user by the name of @loudlytransparenttrash. This person is an anti-feminist who I believe had a lot to bring up on the subject. However, their post was very long in what they had described to me, and I unfortunately can’t include all of it. However, if you were to message them, I’m sure they would be just as kind to you as they were to me and let you view the private post.

loudlytransparenttrash begins with, “I was a feminist for many years and I have plenty of feminist friends so I have nothing personal against individual feminists”. I believe this is one of the reasons they were so willing to speak with me, as other anti-feminists I reached out to for the purpose of this piece were unresponsive.

They continue with, “What is the definition of feminism? I have no idea. Why? Because not even feminists can decide on a definition and stick to it for more than a second. When prompted for the definition of feminism, most self-proclaimed feminists will trout out the very nice sounding ‘belief in equality between the sexes’ line”. They continued with, “there is (…) the real definition: feminism is the pursuit of unlimited rights, privileges and power for women and women alone”. Honestly, this is the definition of feminism I see most often on tumblr.

“Feminists set the trap by saying feminism’s on the side of truth and equality, and if you don’t call yourself one, it means you favour women being sexually harassed, assaulted, or worse (…) Believing women deserve equal treatment and rights doesn’t make you a feminist, it makes you a regular, everyday decent person,” loudlytransparenttrash continues.

“Feminism for what it used to be is finished in the first world. That brand of feminism is over (…) Today [feminists] try so hard to keep themselves in the past world of oppression and inequality while forgetting that they are some of the most free, capable, equal and privileged people in the world. Real feminists are ashamed of what they women are doing with the freedom and rights they once so vigorously fought for.

“Modern feminism has become beyond embarrassing. There’s a reason why so few women identify as feminists: it’s less a true ‘women’s movement’ and the public face of hysterical leftist intolerance (…) Feminists point to the wage gap, glass ceiling, women’s vulnerability to sexual objectification, rape culture, mansplaining, street harassment and before long you have constructed a full-scale patriarchy (…) You can still believe in equality without believing in feminism,” loudlytransparenttrash finishes.

As I said before, I did leave out quite a bit of loudlytransparenttrash’s original post, since I believe it was almost 3 pages long on its own. But, as I also said before, if you speak with them directly, I am sure they will link you to the original post.

As you can see, feminism for everyone is different, like loudlytransparenttrash said before. There are different ideas associated with feminism. Some believe it to be empowering, others believe it to be oppressing.

With all these different ideas of what feminism means, from feminists to men to anti-feminists, I encourage you to find your own idea of what feminism could mean to you.

 *All non-anonymous users have agreed to be named prior to the writing and editing of this piece.

[the-record-columns]

Jan. 1, 2020: Columns

Resolutions are like sobriety, kept one day at a time...

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

What exactly is a New Year or New Year's Resolution?

The most accepted definition I could find is basically a promise you make to yourself to start doing something good or stop doing something bad on the first day of the year.  An example which would apply to many is, “I am going to eat healthier and give up smoking.”

Each year I, like so many other folks, think about making New Year Resolutions.  Sometimes I quickly ignore the subject completely, sometimes I think about it, and, albeit rarely, I write some down.  My track record on keeping the resolutions once made, however, is less than spotty.  In fact, it is downright terrible.

And therefore depressing.

So,  now that I am officially old and set in my ways, perhaps this year is the one where I will write down and maybe even follow up on some resolutions I have found for someone just like me—a person who has taken being a somewhat loveable, but altogether worthless slug—to an art form.

What follows are a series of resolutions that even I should be able to live with.

*Get out of bed without being hooked up to a coffee IV.  I resolve to do this at least once a quarter to improve the quality of my life and for my sanity and general mental health.

*As a tie-in to the above, I resolve to take longer naps. The logic of this being that if a 15 minute nap is good, just imagine what a couple of hours of deep sleep and snoring can do for you right smack in the middle of the day.

*Eat better, which, for me, means to pay attention to my health guru, Carl White. Carl, who produces the Life in the Carolinas syndicated television show, is an amazing source of dietetic information, and puts things simply, so someone like me who is woefully ignorant of food facts can readily keep up.

*Take up a new hobby.  However, only resolve to do it once—anything else is a bonus.

*Hang up my clothes.  No actually. Let's forget that one.

*Get a haircut.  Nah, drop that one too.

*Take my wonderful dog, Angel, for longer and longer walks as I become able.

* Cook a meal for others.  With the exception of the amazing Ikey Eller barbequed chicken, this resolution is guaranteed to be a one time deal if they try to eat it.  As they say, I can't even boil water without scorching it.

*Read more.  Now this one I don't mind doing, if the book has real paper pages and at least two thirds of them are old Lewis Grizzard column collections. That guy was amazing, and the hero of any southern man who fancies himself a columnist.

*Take the stairs instead of the elevator—at least most of the time.

*I will stop being a procrastinator.  That is, of course (and you knew this one was coming), if I can get around to it (particularly when it comes to my “Deadline Poet” ways of waiting until press days to write my column).

*Have Ellen Shepherd at the Coffee House on 421 make more carrot cakes.

*Eat more of those wonderful pub chips at The Dispensary.

*Forgive.  **I am still struggling with the forget part.

*Drink no alcohol.  Now, this one I have nailed for lo these 41 years—TODAY!!  And, if I keep this resolution, there is a much better chance for the rest of them.

I am truly fortunate to have among my friends many readers I have never met but who help bring joy to my life.  I cannot even imagine what it would be like without you cheering me on. 

To everyone, have a great New Year and let it be the start of a blessed year for everyone.

Thank you.

Resolute in History, and Into the Future

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

As everyone moves into another year, with more self promises of living better that have no intentions of being kept, I personally find myself reflecting on my journeys in life that have brought me to this moment, and specifically the of women before me.

For instance:

The year 2020 is an election year, but more importantly it will be 100 years since the suffragettes won an historic legal battle, and received the right to vote. While it still took decades to make sure this was a fair process for all women legally, it was seen as a huge step to equality among the sexes. If only they knew women after them would be fighting   the next hundred years to keep making those strides...

I was fortunate enough to be raised by strong, tenacious, women on both sides and later in the century, so many of the below I’ve never personally encountered, but the history that has been made in my lifetime is amazing to me. Some of the most basic things women were not allowed to do.

Get a credit card:

Until 1974, banks and credit card companies could refuse credit cards to single women and could require married women to get the cards in their husbands' names.

Get an Ivy League Education

Harvard didn't admit women until 1977. Yale and Princeton only admitted their first women undergrads in 1969. However, to its credit, Cornell started admitting women way back in 1870

Legally use contraceptives with your husband in every state.

Only in 1965 did the Supreme Court make it illegal for states to ban married people from using contraceptives.

Keep your job while pregnant.

Laying off women employees who became pregnant wasn't illegal in the U.S. until 1978.

Seek legal redress if you were sexually harassed on the job.

U.S. courts only recognized workplace sexual harassment as an offense in 1977.

Attend military academy.

Women couldn't attend any U.S. military academy until 1976, when the women were admitted. In 2015, 16 percent of the graduating West Point class was made up of women.

Refuse to have sex with your husband.

Until the 1970s, marital rape wasn't illegal. Rape was defined in all US states as follows: "a male who has sexual intercourse with a female not his wife is guilty of rape if..."

Get the contraceptive pill easily.

Oral contraceptives were only approved by the FDA in 1960, and weren't widely prescribed by doctors for several more years.

Serve on a jury.

It wasn't until 1973 that women could serve on juries in all 50 states.

Practice law.

Until 1971, women could be denied the right to practice law, even if they were qualified as lawyers, purely because they were women. Barring women from practicing law was only prohibited in the U.S. in 1971. We would have been watching Judge Johnny instead of Judy had this not been overturned.

Get divorced easily.

Before the 1969 No Fault Divorce law, divorce could only be obtained if you proved your spouse had committed serious faults.

Divorce her husband for beating her.

Domestic violence wasn't considered grounds for divorce in many U.S. states in 1960. It only became grounds for divorce in New York in 1966, and the wife needed to prove that a "sufficient" number of beatings had occurred.

Serve in combat.

Female military recruits couldn't serve in active combat roles until 2013.

Live with their boyfriend anywhere in the U.S.

Incredibly, in 2013 living together before marriage was still illegal in four U.S. states. In 2011 several Florida couples were even charged with misdemeanors under the state's anti-cohabitation law. Those laws are still on the books in North  Carolina, but not enforced.

Get a mortgage.

A married woman would likely have to get her husband's signature in order to get a mortgage. This was especially a problem for unmarried women, even through the1980’s.

Have paid maternity leave.

The U.S. is the only developed country that doesn't require employers to provide some period of paid leave when a woman has a baby.

Become a Supreme Court Justice.

There wasn't a law stopping women from serving on the Supreme Court, but no women were appointed until Sandra Day O'Connor in 1981. As of 2015, there are three women out of the nine SCOTUS judges. (Can you imagine life without RBG?)

Become an astronaut.

"We have no existing program concerning women astronauts nor do we contemplate any such plan," NASA told one young woman in 1962. They first admitted women as astronaut candidates in 1978, including Sally Ride, who went on to become the first American woman in space.

Get a job without being rejected simply for being female.

Until the Civil Rights Act of 1964, it was perfectly legal to discriminate against women on the grounds of your gender when you were considering whom to hire or promote.

Ski jump at the Olympics.

Women couldn't enter any Olympic ski jumping events until the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

Marry another woman.

The U.S. movement to gain civil marriage rights for same-sex couples began in the 70’s, but it wasn't legal anywhere until 2004, when Massachusetts became the first state to allow it. As of 2015, same-sex marriage is legal in 36 U.S. states. Of course, this legal barrier applied to men just as much as women.

Officially enter the Boston Marathon.

The Boston Marathon wasn't open to women runners until 1972.

 Become presidential nominee for a major political party.

Hillary Clinton was the first woman ever to receive a major party nomination in 2016. Before that, women had run for president, but they stood no chance because they weren't major-party nominees. Victoria Claflin Woodhull was the very first female candidate for president all the way back in 1872.

Get a legal abortion

The first state to allow legal abortions was Colorado in 1967. Roe vs. Wade made terminations legal nationally in 1973.

The sad part is many women around the world are still fighting for some of the most basic human rights. We are so fortunate to live in a free republic, and I admonish all to spread kindness and equality relentlessly in this upcoming year, regardless of what resolutions get left behind.

Peace through Strength

By AMBASSADOR EARL COX and KATHLEEN COX

Special to The Record

For those who may be anxious or fearful concerning affairs in the Middle East, this article will not put you at ease.  It’s meant to serve as a wake-up call for all who do not believe we could be in the pre-dawn stages of a major confrontation with Iran and other rogue regimes who have their sights set on destroying Israel and the United States.

U.S. military foes Iran, Russia and China, have just concluded joint naval war games in the Indian Ocean and the Gulf of Oman.  Russia’s warships were deployed from its fleet based in Syria.  For Iran, this is a plus on many levels but, most importantly, it shows the world that Iran is not isolated, that she has powerful alliances, and that U.S. sanctions may not be working as well as anticipated.  China has declared that these exercises are designed to “deepen exchange and cooperation” with and between Iran and Russia.  The Gulf of Oman is strategically important because it connects the Arabian Sea with the Strait of Hormuz through which a significant portion of the world’s oil supply must pass to reach its destinations.

Back in September, it is believed that Iran was responsible for the cruise missile and drone attacks on oil fields and oil plants in Saudi Arabia.  With no reply and no retaliation from the Arab or Western worlds, Iran has become emboldened to continue its aggressive behavior. Israel, on the other hand, has met force with force proving she is the only country in the world standing up to Iran and preparing for what could evolve.  Israel’s enemies know she is strong and ready.

A few days ago on Dec. 27, 2019, Israel Defense Forces’ Chief of Staff Lt. Gen. Aviv Kochavi, underlined this same sobering fact – that Israel alone is fighting Iran.  Israel has never been under any illusion about Iran’s intentions and with good reason.  Iran has repeatedly declared their intentions to wipe Israel off the face of the globe even going so far as to paint a simple and clear message on the side of their missiles, “Death to Israel,” and also, “Death to America.”  With Iran’s self-confidence growing by the minute, Israel is busy preparing militarily and psychology, overtly and covertly, 24/7.   Any future war, Kochavi warned, will mean taking the fight to urban areas. Israel’s military leadership is determined to stay ahead of all threats and to emerge the victor from any attack.  It's no secret that Israel has powerful weapons, superior technological advancements, and well-trained forces and her enemies know she is prepared to use them decisively yet responsibly.  Under no circumstances will Israel allow Iran to build up its arsenal of nuclear or conventional weapons which it is working overtime at doing and attempting to smuggle them into Syria and Iraq.  Furthermore, with no real resistance from the West, Iran is also working at enhancing and expanding their nuclear capabilities.  While the Western world seems to be holding still, the IDF (Israel Defense Force) has been busy day and night developing techniques and strategies for winning, under any circumstance, against their aggressors.  Israel’s enemies are in an arms race seeking to acquire precision missiles.  “While Israel will always operate on the principle that war is a last resort, when diplomatic efforts fail and limited operations don’t succeed, war is a solution,” said Kochavi.   

By standing with Israel, the United States is standing in its own self-defense.  If Israel fails to act against Iran’s weapons build-up and their growing nuclear capabilities, the weapons will remain, and their nuclear capacity will expand.   With China and Russia cuddling up in Iran’s corner, we must face reality.  Until the Messiah comes, peace comes only through strength.  Israel has proven herself. Iran is now testing our mettle.   

 An Irish Tale

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

Katie, who works at the post office asked what I was working on this week. I replied, “a few things are on the schedule but the first is a story about the Irish heritage in the Carolinas.” to which she quickly replied. “I’m part Irish.”

Katie went on to tell me about her family that settled in Pennsylvania. Her great grandmother did not want her sons working in the coal mines. Her husband was no longer in the picture, so she planned a move to Detroit, Mich., where safer employment was available. This would prove to be a good move for the family. As time passed, she sponsored and helped other families make the same move. The positive impact of lives saved is countless.  

The Scots-Irish influence in the Carolinas is profound. It is reported that in the 18th century as many as 250,000 Europeans sailed to America. Some would become indentured servants as they did not have the funds to pay for the voyage. Unfortunately, for many the life of an indentured servant was little more than slavery.

Settling in the eastern part of the Carolinas was not an option for large numbers and for this reason many settled in the back country of the Carolinas. The feel of the land was not unlike that of their homeland.

Many were craftsman such as spinners and weavers. They worked hard and cared for the land. The making of whiskey was skilled and would not be uncommon.

Mecklenburg County would also become home to many Scots-Irish. So many, in fact, that in 1775, when the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence was signed almost all the signers were Scots-Irish.

It was the fighting tenacity of the Scottish and Irish immigrants that fueled the victory at the Battle of Kings Mountain, which was a turning point in what would become American Independence.  

United States President Andrew Jackson was born in the Carolinas with Scots-Irish parents and so was U.S. Vice President John C. Calhoun from Abbeville, S.C.    

The folk traditions and culture of the Irish and Scottish will forever influence who we are in the Carolinas. Many of us are aware of our connection and many are discovering via DNA tests that tell us where we come from.

I always feel a closeness to the people when I attend the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. The gathering of the clans is a gathering of families with common interests and pride in their heritage. It happens every year with no regard to weather or anything else. The people make a way to come together. Maybe that’s a good lesson for all of us.

What would happen if we all started to come together more often and celebrate just being together?

Maybe that small or large piece of Irish or Scottish DNA will give us the will to fight against the obstacles that keep us apart. And just maybe we can defeat the problems of life, or at least sleep a little better knowing that another kinsman has our back.

 Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 10th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My 12. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com.