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megalony · 1 year ago

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Don't Leave Me

As promised, here is a new Jonah Hauer-King imagine for all you lovelies, I hope you like it. Any feedback or requests are always amazing, enjoy.

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Masterlist

Summary: Jonah is on his way home when a car accident delays him a while. And he finds himself desperate to help the girl in the accident and make sure she's alright.

Enjoy.

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A steady beat drummed out against the steering wheel, matching in time with the tune playing quietly from the radio. As the daylight started to fade and the darkness drew in, he turned down the radio every so often until the tunes were soft and quiet in the background since his mind was so easily distracted.

He didn't always find driving calming and easy and distractions tended to make it worse.

The moon was a dusty, pale yellow with an outer white glow that looked very luminescent and eye-catching. There were a few stars poking through the layer of mist and the sky was a pale navy blue with streaks of purple and tints of red. Jonah loved looking at the evening sky because it looked so capturing and interesting.

He used to hate driving on the motorway, it always panicked him because everyone was driving so fast but now it felt normal. It didn’t feel like he was getting whiplash when he increased speed, it felt rather slow now that he had gotten used to it.

Drifting his eyes around the road, Jonah rubbed at his temple as he noticed his sliproad was coming up to get him back on the normal roads and not on the motorway anymore. He wasn’t too far from home now which was a relief because he couldn’t wait to put his feet up and just have a drink.

He was ready to go home.

His fingers hovered over the indicator at the side of the steering wheel but he didn't get chance to flick it on.

One fleeting, chancing look in his rear-view mirror drew his attention to a car that was flying up behind him, swerving between two lanes. The car was out of control. The driver wasn't breaking. He was going to slam into the back of Jonah's car. They were going to crash.

Jonah did the only thing he could think of. Without looking in his side mirrors or really thinking it through at all, he slammed his brakes on and swerved into the hard shoulder to his left. It was a small, grit covered lane for emergencies and this was definitely an emergency. Jonah would be crushed or run off the road if he didn't swerve into the safe lane on his left and it was all he could do. The front of his car spun towards the left, bumping into the barrier as he came to a sudden, jerking stop.

Every muscle in his body tensed, curse words flew past his lips and everything started to shake as ragged breaths passed his lips.

"No-"

Jonah jumped back in his seat as he watched the car speed past him in the lane he was just in. His eyes widened in terror when he watched the out of control car slam into the car that had been in front of Jonah.

The cherry coloured car propelled forward a few feet before swerving and spinning into the hard shoulder lane. The back end of the cheery car hit the metal barrier so harsh and fast that it smashed through and slanted the car part-way down the hill. It was by sheer luck that the car didn't roll off the hard shoulder and go down the ditch. It was wedged between the metal that was saving that poor driver from going into the water at the bottom of the ditch.

Was that Jonah's fault?

Would he of had time to flash his hazard lights to let that car in front know something was wrong? Should he have tried to warn them somehow? Shouldn't that of been Jonah who was almost falling down into the ditch?

He couldn't see where the out of control car had ended up. It seemed to be a mile ahead on the motorway but Jonah could see half the people were stopping and others were hurriedly shooting up the exit Jonah should have been on by now.

He didn’t know if someone had called the police or an ambulance or if the drivers needed any help. He guessed the people in the cherry car needed help, no one had made a move to get out yet and they needed to move. If the car jolted an inch, it would be in the ditch.

There was no way Jonah could try and drive home now. He had seen the accident. He would need to give a statement to the police, if he drove off now it would make him a bad person, just as bad as the people who weren't stopping to help.

When Jonah unsteadily climbed out of the car, his legs had gone to jelly and he had to lean heavily on the door and take a few seconds to catch his breath and calm down. He had never been in a car accident before. He was a good driver- not that he had done anything wrong tonight that had caused this crash, not really. He had never witnessed a crash like this before. What could he do to help?

He locked the car, stuffed the keys into his pocket along with his phone and jogged on numb legs down towards the cherry coloured Fiesta.

People further ahead on the road were starting to stop and check on the driver who had caused this mess but no one was coming Jonah's way.

Jonah rounded to the driver’s side. It took him a few moments to jiggle the door handle so the door finally opened, almost swinging off the hinges when it swung open with a creak that made him shiver. He bent the door as far open as it would manage and weaved behind it so he could lean over and see if the person needed any assistance.

Whoever was in here, Jonah wanted to tell them to get out. He didn't like how close the car was to the edge of the ditch. One wrong move and the car would be gone.

Turning her head slowly to the right, (Y/n) let out a shuddering breath at the stranger who managed to open the door. Her mind was coming back under her control now. As soon as something hit her car and it started to swerve, her mind blacked out and she couldn't see a thing. A sob burned against the back of her throat that felt like sandpaper and pain bolted through almost every nerve in her body.

Her eyes tried to focus on the mop of raven black curls that swished in front of her eyes as the stranger who had seemingly come to her rescue bent down on his knees. He had one hand holding onto her car door and the other was clamped around the roof of the car like he was trying to hold himself up.

He had a calming, somewhat sugary sweet smile and for a second or two, it distracted (Y/n) from why she was panicking.

"Hi there, love. I’m Jonah, can you tell me your name?" Jonah paced his words to let (Y/n) have a moment to process them and hear how calm and collected he was trying to be.

"(Y/n)… out, p-please get me out!" Her throat burned, her words came out croaked and weak but with an air of urgency that stunned Jonah.

(Y/n) didn’t know which area of pain to focus on or where exactly the pain was coming from because it was circulating everywhere. But she knew that she didn’t want to be in the car anymore. She could feel the smoke drifting around the car, seeping into her lungs and making it harder to breathe. She could feel that the right side of the car next to her legs was dented and the bonnet had been crushed and the metal was pushing towards her. She felt like she was becoming boxed into her car and she wanted out.

The seatbelt was cutting rather harshly into her exposed neck and chest near her collar bone and it was grating like a sharp knife slowly tearing through her skin. She wanted to be out of the car to feel a bit more at ease and safer. Sitting in a car wasn’t the best if it was stationary and still on the motorway which was dangerous as it was without her being in a car which was now a hazard.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. I don’t know what injuries you have, it’s best to wait for the paramedics, I think I saw someone calling them up ahead."

Jonah could see she was obviously distressed and didn’t want to stay where she was but now he had glanced at her injuries, all thoughts of telling her to get out vanished from his mind. He didn't want to be the one to move her. She could have damaged her spine or her neck or even her head and skull, moving her could disrupt any injuries and cause permanent damage. He didn't want to be the cause of any paralysis and he wasn't trained to get her out of a car with those sorts of injuries.

Basic medical first aid was the only thing Jonah could offer, along with a calming presence and a promise he wouldn't leave her in here alone until proper help arrived.

"Please,"

Her sob burned into Jonah's ears and he cringed, rolling his lips together at how desperate she sounded. He couldn't risk hurting her or making her injuries worse unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Not yet, let's wait for an ambulance to get you out safely, hm? But I won't leave you here alone, that's a promise."

"Okay," If he wasn't going to get her out, him staying beside her was at least a relief and his smile was as calming as it was charming.

"Let’s get that belt off you." Pushing himself up so he was leaning over her instead of on his knees at her side, Jonah tried his best not to touch her in case he hurt her. He didn't know if she had any internal injuries. All he could see were the external ones such as the cuts to her face from the inside of the windscreen shattering.

He rolled his lips into a thin smile and reached over (Y/n), trying to hold up his own weight. The belt came undone surprisingly easy and Jonah carefully pulled it back but it made him queasy to see the belt peel off her skin like a layer of skin ripping away. It revealed a slanted cut along her collar bone like it had burned into her skin, but thankfully it didn't look too deep.

Pulling back a little, Jonah started looking over (Y/n) to see what other injuries she had and how bad they were. He saw small cuts on her cheeks, one on her neck, her hands looked a bit scraped but when he looked closer he saw her right wrist looked damaged.

"I think you’ve broken your wrist, try not to move it for me." The complicated joint seemed to jut out on the left and it was beginning to swell too.

Pushing the almost deflated airbag out of the way, Jonah looked over (Y/n)’s other arm which seemed to have no damage. He locked eyes with her for a brief moment and he smiled to show her she was okay and he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t see any blood on her shirt which was a good sign but with the airbag now moved out of the way, he noticed a new problem.

There was a thin chunk of metal puncturing into her thigh, causing blood to pool around her navy blue leggings.

"Can I?" He questioned, referring to her leg. He didn’t really want to leave her bleeding out when he didn’t know how long the paramedics were going to take to arrive and the least he could do was take a look and see if he could help in any way.

"Hm,"

There was a tear in the material so Jonah slowly pulled at the thin cotton and ripped it further so he could see the damage. He held his breath in his lungs to calm himself down; the metal looked like it was rather deep into her leg and Jonah knew better than to even attempt to pull it out. If he moved the metal an inch he could worsen the bleeding or rip a muscle and if he took it out all the way, the blood flow would be a lot worse. The blood was seeping from the deep cut like a tap that was continuously spluttering the liquid everywhere. It was soaking into her leggings and creating a mass dampness around the wounded area.

"Okay… sweetheart, I need to stop the bleeding. Can you talk to me? Tell me what you were up to today or something about you while I fix this."

Jonah needed to stop the bleeding and the best way he could think to do that was to remove his belt and tie it around her leg above the wound. That way the blood would be restricted to her leg because even though the metal was stopping the blood loss from becoming worse it was still pouring out. He knew (Y/n) might become lightheaded and it would hurt so he thought talking might distract her and it would show him she wasn’t suddenly going to faint or fall unconscious.

"What's wrong with my-" (Y/n) cut herself off with a choked moan mixed with a cry when she saw the metal poking out of her thigh a little higher up from her knee. She pressed her head back into the headrest, feeling the urge to scream or try and move because she didn’t even realise that had happened. She didn’t feel the metal puncture through her leg, she simply thought it had gotten bashed and bruised like everywhere else on her body.

"Ssh, hey it’s alright. I’m gonna stop the bleeding and then the paramedics will sort this out for you, don’t worry. Come on, tell me about yourself or your day." Jonah’s voice was oddly soothing to (Y/n), he had one of those deep yet rhythmic voices that you could listen to about anything. It was a voice that you would constantly listen to without registering what was being said.

"I don't, um… I like t-to sing." (Y/n) licked her dry lips, trying to speak clearly though her throat and lips were both dry and felt tight.

It was the first thing that came to mind.

Something soft flooded Jonah's eyes while he stood up and snapped his belt free from the loops of his jeans. He prayed his jeans would stay where they were and wouldn't fall down now they were a bit loose on him without the belt.

He crouched back down beside (Y/n) whilst hoping some form of help would arrive soon to help them.

"I bet you have a beautiful voice. I quite like to sing too," Jonah pushed his knees into the bottom of the car while he carefully lifted up (Y/n)'s thigh, just an inch, so he could thread the end of his belt under her leg. He did his best not to disturb the metal. He made sure the belt was close to the wound but not touching it in any way.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and she looked down to see what Jonah was doing. It took her mind a few seconds longer than usual to process what he was doing and understand he was going to cut off her circulation to her leg.

When Jonah lifted his head to look at her, he winked in a way that sent (Y/n)'s stomach flooding with butterflies and his smile made her want to squirm and blush. She noticed his smile morph a little when he bit down on his lower lip and threaded the belt through the buckle. Then he yanked it as tight as he could manage. When the belt indented down into (Y/n)'s skin, he heard her ungodly scream as if the belt was around her chest, not her leg.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He hushed quietly. "It won’t hurt for long, sweetheart." Jonah pressed the pin into the belt to create a new pinhole to make sure the belt didn’t loosen any more than that before he let go. Her leg would turn numb soon enough and it would stop both the pain from the tightness and the pain from the wound.

Jonah ran his fingertips over (Y/n)’s legs to make sure she had no other cuts or injuries, stopping when she choked on a cry as soon as his hands found her left ankle. He pulled up the end of her leggings and moved her sock out of the way before trying to be gentle when grazing his fingers over the swelling skin. Relief bolted through him when he saw that the bone wasn't poking out and it didn't exactly feel broken, it felt in tact. She might have just sprained it.

"It’s not broken, probably sprained… hey, you gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Come on, open your eyes."

Reaching his hand up, Jonah gently brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to get her to talk to him when her eyes closed. He didn’t want her passing out on him in case it was a sign that she was still having bloodloss or that there was something else wrong.

She managed to open her eyes and move her left hand, barely remembering that Jonah said not to move her right wrist which was broken.

"It hurts." (Y/n) didn’t exactly know what she was referring to, whether it was her broken wrist, her bleeding leg, her damaged ankle or her head that was pounding, but she felt the need to express how everything hurt. Jonah didn’t seem to care what she was referring to, he understood what she was going through. He moved his right hand and gently took her left hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.

"I know it does, but it won’t be for long. Squeeze my hand, help will be here soon."

Jonah couldn’t give her anything for the pain and he couldn’t take it away, all he could do was be moral support and to try and help her in any way that he could. He darted his eyes down to her leg which was fading in colour meaning that the blood wasn't getting past the belt so that was a good thing at least.

He felt slight relief when (Y/n) held his hand tightly to show she wasn’t asleep just yet. She didn’t know what she would have done if Jonah hadn’t turned up, she wouldn’t have known her leg was bleeding or how to stop it, she would have tried to get herself out if she had the energy. Her panic died down immensely when he turned up because he seemed to know what he was doing. It wasn’t as scary with someone else here with her.

"P-please don’t leave me."

"Now why would I leave you?" Jonah could hear the worry in her voice as if she thought he was just going to vanish and head home. He wouldn't do that even if he wanted to because it wasn’t fair. He had come over to help and he wasn’t finished helping yet because he couldn’t leave her alone and afraid.

Jonah rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as (Y/n) continued to squeeze his hand every now and then to show she was still awake. She pushed her chest out to let her spine click into place before settling back against the seat that felt incredibly uncomfy right now.

Something akin to fondness bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and pooled in her eyes when she looked over at Jonah. He wasn't looking at her but he was squeezing her hand incredibly tight. He was swaying on his heels, shifting his weight back and forth and his left hand had moved to rub his chin and brush across his lips while he watched for any signs of an ambulance or even the police.

She could see how focused he was on watching for help and how intent he was on staying right by her side. It felt like they had known each other for years, not minutes and his presence was calming and soothing.

The car moved.

A burning scream left (Y/n)'s lips and her body tensed up and pushed back into the seat when she felt the car jolt backwards. The horrid sound of metal scraping on metal sent her body shivering and burned her ears.

She was going to fall. The car was going to do down the ditch and crash. She was going to die here.

Jonah's weight unbalanced and he fell backwards on his bum, one hand scraping against the gravel to steady himself while his other hand clenched as tight as possible around (Y/n)'s hand. As if he was Superman with the power to pull her back and stop the car from falling any further.

"No, no no!"

"Oh God!"

Jonah scrambled to get up and his free hand instinctively pressed out on the roof of the car until it stopped moving and once again got wedged between the broken metal barrier. As soon as it stopped, Jonah breathed shakily in relief and moved round again. He let go of the car, he didn't want to touch or lean on it in any way in case any little touch made it move more towards the ditch again.

He leaned his head down into the car and his hand let go of (Y/n)'s hand so his hands could hold her neck. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, his thumbs brushed over her jaw and he tilted her head up so she was looking at him. He could see the panic in her watering eyes and hear it in each shuddering, shallow breath she took. Panicking wasn't going to do them any favours.

Reaching up, (Y/n) clamped down hands down around Jonah's wrists, even her broken wrist that was now pulsing and throbbing from the movement. She was shaking so badly she was causing Jonah's arms to tremble but neither of them cared.

"Jonah p-please get me out!" (Y/n)'s fingers dug bruisingly into his wrists but it was her eyes that made his stomach flip and sent his knees buckling.

"I could hurt you-"

"Please,"

His eyes slammed closed and his body jolted on the spot when (Y/n) slammed her foot down against the footwell as she let out a sharp cry. She wanted out, she wanted to feel and be safe on the roadside. She didn't want to be in a car that was about to be in the ditch.

She was moving all of her body except for the leg Jonah had tied his belt to, surely that had to mean she didn't have any nerve damage or paralysis? Wouldn't it be safer for him to get her out and move her now than to risk waiting for paramedics to do the exact same thing he could just do right now?

"Alright, alright sweetheart let's get you out of here."

Reaching down, Jonah let go of her neck and trailed his hands down to hold her arms and loop them around the back of his neck. He could see the metal that was punctured into her thigh wasn't still connected to the car so he could move her without ripping it from her skin.

He gently held her lower legs and turned them until her body was shifted so she was facing him and her legs were now hanging over the side of the seat out of the car.

Jonah bent his knees and circled his arms around (Y/n)'s waist, trying to hold her firmly but also be gentle because he didn't want to cause her further pain. He could feel her nails scratching into his shoulders as he carefully started to lift her up from the car. When (Y/n) reached her hand out to hold the door so she could keep her weight on her good leg, Jonah grabbed her hand and looped her arm back around his neck instead.

"Don't lean on the car in case it moves. Lean on me, I've got you."

He could feel the car start to slide again the moment (Y/n)'s weight was lifted from the seat. Jonah moved as quick as he could without hurting her and shuffled backwards with (Y/n) in his arms until they were a safe distance from the car that was four feet away from going down the ditch.

"Are you okay?"

His nose brushed against her hair and her breath tickled his skin when she took rapid breaths but managed to nod against his neck.

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) was sure she heard him whisper 'You're alright' into her hair before he carefully turned to help her sit down. His hands moved under her arms and he lowered her down until she was sat on the gravel with her legs stretched out in front of her as straight as rulers.

Her head felt like it was about to explode and for a brief moment, everything started to spin and her mind went dizzy. She thought she was about to flop down against the floor until a strangely familiar pair of hands grabbed her upper arms. Jonah reeled her into his side and let her weight fall onto his chest as (Y/n) suddenly realised he had sat down on the ground next to her.

His hand rubbed up and down her arm and in her slightly delirious state, (Y/n) was sure he kissed the top of her head, although she couldn't be sure.

"Cavalry’s here, love." As soon as the words passed through his lips, (Y/n) could faintly hear the blaring sirens that sounded very distant but she didn’t know if they were actually far away or if it was her ears distorting the sounds around her.

Two ambulances and a road traffic car pulled up and Jonah suspected they were going to block off this whole side of the motorway for a few hours.

Two paramedics hurried over with a stretcher to where Jonah was sat down beside (Y/n). He could see she was close to falling asleep now but it was alright if she did because the paramedics were here, they would know what to do.

"Jonah…" (Y/n) managed to open her eyes but soon closed them when all she could see was a rotating picture that was blurring too much to make anything out. A flurry of panic bubbled up in her chest when she felt strange hands on her arms pulling her forward to try and check her over and her head shook when she felt her eyelid being held open and a light cross in front of her pupil.

She didn't want Jonah to leave, as selfish as that made her. She barely knew him but she wanted to keep holding his hand and lean on his shoulder and hear his melodic voice telling her she was going to be alright.

"Jonah-"

"I’m still here sweetheart." He responded, feeling his heart pang at how she was beginning to panic again.

He shook his head when one of the paramedics asked if he was injured and his arms folded over his chest as he bit his lip, watching them assess her and talk about the best way to move her. They couldn’t afford to move the metal in her leg but it was easier now she was out the car. They didn’t have to cut her free which was the most important thing.

Jonah felt all the sirens and car horns and voices drift away and blur into silence as he watched the paramedics very slowly ease (Y/n) onto the stretcher. Both making sure her right leg was moved as little as possible as they laid her down. All three of them winced when (Y/n) suddenly made a choking sound. Her chest moving like it was convulsing and she moved her left hand to press to her lower chest before blood started to coat her lips.

One of the medics moved the stretcher so (Y/n) was sitting up instead of lying down so she didn’t choke. Her eyes closed tight and her face contorted into a look of either pain or disgust, Jonah couldn't be sure, and she tossed her head forward to spit the blood from her lips.

"Can I go with her?"

Jonah didn’t even think before the words were rushed from his lips and he felt relieved when one of them nodded. He didn’t even know her and yet he found himself wondering what her fate would be. If she would need surgery and what for, if she would be okay, who needed to be contacted. If her parents needed to be told, if she even had parents or maybe siblings or even a partner he had to contact. All the questions he could possibly have about her and her life rushed through his head as he jogged to keep up with them.

He stopped for a second to tell an officer which car was his because he would undoubtedly get clamped or have a ticket for leaving his car there if he didn't tell someone first that he was involved in this mess. He was too shaken to drive and he needed to make sure (Y/n) would be okay.

When they were in the ambulance, one of the paramedics held a white plastic bowl in front of (Y/n) so she could cough up the blood which tainted the crystal white colour of the tub into a rather dark crimson. Jonah wasn’t very well advanced with medical knowledge but he guessed by the way she was spitting blood like she was throwing up that it was something to do with her stomach. She was breathing well so it wasn’t her lungs at least.

"I’m still here," He mumbled quietly as he reached to take her hand, watching how her features seemed to relax at his voice. Her hand pulled his closer to her chest as she continued to throw up the sticky substance coating her throat and lips.

Jonah brushed her slightly knotted hair behind her ear, keeping it from her face as he felt the ambulance begin to move.

"I won’t leave you."

#jonah hauer king imagine #jonah x reader #jonah imagine #jonah hauer king #imagine #the little mermaid

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ty-bayonet-betteridge · 10 months ago

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i dont know who joehill is so i am imagining jonah hill is on tumblr, liking your posts

nobody has ever seen american comedy actor jonah hill and minecraft youtuber joseph hills in the same room at the same time

#asks #joe hills

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shifterdomain · 9 months ago

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Masterlist Imagines / Actors

Jonah Hauer-King

Reading Thirst Tweets

You had wrapped the project you and Jonah had been working on for the past year and a half and now you are invited by Buzzfeed to come and read the Thirst Tweets they picked out for the both of you.

Kids Interview

You and Jonah are traveling across Europe with the rest of the cast for the press tour of The Little Mermaid. You were set to have a day off, but when Halle couldn’t make it to the interview with Jonah because she was feeling ill, you came to do the interview with Jonah instead.

Puppy Interview

You and your boyfriend Jonah do the Buzzfeed Puppy Interview to talk about the new sequel of the 90s hit Beverly Hills 90210 that you both star in.

He comes home again

Your boyfriend Jonah had been in Sardinia for the past 9 months to film The Little Mermaid after finishing the scenes they shot at Pinewood Studios London, while you stayed behind in your guys’ apartment to watch your cat and dog. He wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow afternoon, so you were fairly surprised to see him standing in your doorway.

She called me daddy

You have a 3-year-old daughter from a past relationship, your former partner walking out on your relationship when you had ‘accidentally’ gotten pregnant. Luckily you met Jonah on a night out about a year ago and ever since he met your daughter the two have been completely in love. Now you were at the Little Mermaid premier to cheer on Jonah, hoping to stay behind the scenes, but your daughter had other plans.

Hospital Confessions

You are starring in a big fantasy/action feature, but in doing your own stunt, you get hurt and end up in the hospital. When your cousin Halle visits you, together with Jonah, you end up confessing your love to the latter.

My Milky Way

Jonah owns a little coffee shop in the outskirts of London and every time on your break you go there to rewind. But as time passes, you find that the coffee is not your only reason for coming there.

#masterlist #masterlist imagines #masterlist actors #masterlist imagines actors #imagines #imagines actors #jonah hauer king

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monstrousproductions · 2 years ago

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I would listen to a audio drama about "your boy jonah" but also, tell me about your boy! Here is a free space to ramble. Please info-dump.

Free space to ramble?! Don't mind if I do!

So, in case anyone is unfamiliar with the story of Jonah, it begins with Jonah minding his business and suddenly being called upon by God to go to Ninevah [the capital city of the Assyrian empire] to call them out for their sins. Instead, Jonah seals his place in my heart by running away from God.

I just find it so immediately endearing that his reaction to being given a divinely ordained job to do is to absolutely nope the fuck out and run for the hills. It's not just hilarious, but it also feels so honest? Like yeah sometimes we know rightly what we're supposed to do, either because of the leading of the spirit or because of our own morals, and sometimes it's fucking terrifying!!

So he runs away, he gets on a boat to sail off to Far Off Lands (poss. southern Turkey) and obviously... God knows. Because it's God. You can't just duck behind a tree and suddenly God forgets you're there lol And God is big mad and sends a storm that threatens to break the ship into matchsticks. The sailors are terrified - I imagine them as these hardened sea-faring men who are used to all sorts of things, and this storm is so fierce they're absolutely terrified.

And Jonah... is fast asleep. Conked the fuck out on one of the lower decks, like he isn't moments from being smithereened. Running away from God is a tiring business, I guess! Also, as a chronic procastinapper, I can't help feeling like he just felt like he had too much on his plate and decided napping is way less scary that That Whole Mess.

So the captain drags him up and demands that he pray to his god because clearly the gods of the sailors are not paying attention lol But they also want to know where the storm came from and why, so they draw lots to see who's to blame? And of course Jonah draws the short straw.

And then this bit I imagine Jonah being super sheepish about OK. Because in this era and place, it was quite normal to accept that other people's gods were real and powerful, but they just weren't your gods. But different gods have different areas of power, so the sailors ask Jonah who his god is. And very grudgingly, Jonah admits that ummm yeah ok so actually his god is... the one who created the sea and the land.

And I imagine there's this moment of absolute silence as these sailors take in the fact that this guy has pissed his god off and who's his god again? Oh yeah, only the one who MADE THE OCEAN which is currently trying to KILL THEM.

"So they picked up Jonah and hurled him into the sea."

But Jonah doesn't drown! God sends a fish to swallow him up, and he sits in the fish for three days and prays while he's in there, because actually all things considered it was pretty neat of God to send a fish to swallow him instead of letting him drown and he's like "I think maybe I have got close enough to death and I would like to stop having an adventure now and go back to being all the way alive."

Which is very cool having his time in the fish being this sort of pseudo-death? Like he was getting a little taste of it. And he even talks about it as being in Sheol, and being out of sight of God and longing to be alive and back where God can see him.

So God tells the fish to vomit him up and tells Jonah again to go to Ninevah, which this time he does! It's a huge city, it takes three days to walk across it, but Jonah made a promise and he sticks to it. He walks and talks and the city repents and God relents from whatever punishment he was going to send.

Which, in a turn that never fails to touch my heart, makes Jonah... absolutely fucking livid. He is so mad about this decision. He's like, "I fucking knew it!! I knew you weren't going to smite these fuckers!" and God is like ??? excuuuuse me ???

And Jonah - I love him so much - he storms off, he stomps out of Ninevah and builds himself a little hu and he sits in his hut and he stares at the city, wishing hellfire and damnation on everyone in it, and sulking like nobody on earth. He is raging and I love it.

But it's the fucking Assyrian desert, it's hot as balls and even in his wee hut, Jonah's got the sun beating down on him. And God makes this plant grow next to him for shade, which Jonah is pretty pleased about - until the next morning, God sends a worm that attacks the plant and kills it. And also throws in some scorching winds and fiery sun for good measure.

And Jonah's lying there about to pass out and he's like, "I would literally rather be fucking dead" and then we get my favourite exchange in the whole Bible:

But God said to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the plant?”

“It is,” he said. “And I’m so angry I wish I were dead.”

I just love it!! He's having none of it! He is furious and he is feeling more righteous and miserable than any angsty teenager ever could and he's telling God straight out, "You have pissed me off like nobody has ever pissed anyone off before" and I love him so much!!

And God points out that he's that angry about the plant dying, which he didn't even grow or tend to, but somehow it's not fair for God to not be particularly keen on destroying an entire megatropolis full of people and animals who by the way God is responsible for and cares for? Double standards much? And the book ends! It's made its point and off it fucks.

Also there's a bit at the end there where it describes the thousands and thousands of people in Ninevah as "not knowing which is their left hand and which is their right" which I assume is a metaphor for not knowing right from wrong but which I also just love as such a read. Like, "Really? You expect me not to look after these people? Look at them. They're morons, Jonah. They're the kind of morons who would think, oh, I don't know, that they could hide from God in a boat."

I just love how angry Jonah is, and how afraid, and how human! And I love that he has this sassy back and forth with God and that he gets angry at God and argues and has to get put in a fish for a time out. It feels like such a close, bickering sort of relationship and I think the world would be a better place if more people felt like they could look God in the eye and say, "YES! I AM ANGRY!! I AM SO ANGRY I COULD DIE!!!"

#monstrous askbox #come for the podcasts stay for the biblical exegesis #you dont get THAT on the magnus archives

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offender42085 · 1 year ago

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Post 1078

Jordan Buckley, Ohio inmate, born 2003, incarceration intake at age 17, scheduled for release at age 21 in 2024.

Involuntary Manslaughter

Demographic details for juveniles in Ohio is not publicly available.

In October 2020, the widower of deceased local photographer Victoria Schafer took the podium twice to address the two teenagers involved in her death at Hocking Hills state park in 2019 at the now 17-year-olds' sentencing.

The two had separate hearings due to separation of defendants in the case, so victim impact statements had to be given twice.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," Fritz Schafer began. "That's what people say to me, And how could they? Victoria's death was so tragic, so devastating, so senseless, it's unimaginable — whatever I say today is not going to come close to describing how painful this has been for me and for my family."

Fritz said when Jordan Buckley and his co-defendant, Jaden Churchheus were caught after five "excruciating" weeks, the information they received was disturbing. "They showed a lack of remorse, selling drugs in the high school bathroom, they were members of a gang, and they were bragging about what they did," he said.

Judge Jonah M. Saving committed both defendants to the custody of the Ohio Department of Youth Services to be held in a juvenile detention center for a minimum sentence of three years, with a maximum sentence of until both reach the age of 21.

Fritz described the gruesome injuries — both external and internal — that Victoria suffered when a six foot, 74-pound log that Buckley and Churchheus pushed or kicked off the cliff, which hit her on the head, quickly killing her.

Buckley began to weep as Victoria's father spoke and sobbed as Victoria's sister, Catherine Muth, tearfully described the loss of her sister — absently thinking of texting her when she thinks of her, and missing her sister's advice when she needs it most, and catching glimpses of Victoria's face in their own reflection.

Churchheus, meanwhile, showed no visible emotion as he listened to accounts of the family and teens.

Several of the teenagers present the day Victoria was killed described the trauma of watching her die.

Buckley and Churchheus both addressed the family before they were sentenced. "I am so sorry for what has happened, I'm so sorry I was too big of a coward to come forward about what happened, I am very grateful you decided to give me a second chance," said Buckley.

Churchheus also apologized for what he did, and thanked the family for being merciful.

Buckley and Churchheus had agreed to plea deals and pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter while appearing in Hocking County Common Pleas Court, but were sent back to juvenile court for the purpose of sentencing.

Both were classified as serious youth offenders and given a three-to-four-and-a-half year suspended sentence in the Hocking County Court of Common Pleas, which is stayed pending completion of the juvenile sentence.

This means, Saving noted, that if either defendant "screws up" in the course of their juvenile sentence, the state may seek to impose the original stated sentence.

#inmate

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warningsine · 1 month ago

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If the language used on the internet is a reliable indicator, we’re more psychologically enlightened than ever. We discuss attachment styles like the weather. We joke about our coping mechanisms. We project, or are projected on to. We shun “toxic” people. We catastrophise and ruminate. We diagnose, or are diagnosed: OCD, depression, anxiety, ADHD, narcissism. We make, break or struggle to “hold” boundaries. We practise self-care. We know how to spot gaslighting. We’re tuned into our emotional labour. We’re triggered. We’re processing our trauma. We’re doing the work.

The language of the therapy room has long permeated popular culture. Common terms like “repression”, “denial”, “slip of the tongue”, “hysteria” and “inner child” all lead back to Freud. But over the last decade or so, with the vast expansion of social media networks, a new, seemingly sophisticated language sits on modern society’s tongue. Some call it therapy-speak. Or psychobabble. But despite its prevalence, the language is divisive.

Last month, online discourse throbbed with disdain when Sarah Brady, the ex-partner of Jonah Hill, shared text messages he’d sent her about his “boundaries” (no “surfing with men”, no friendships with “women who are in unstable places” and no swimsuit selfies). Many argued that his self-satisfied language was a weaponising of therapy-speak; using “expert” terms to try to control her behaviour.

If we’re often online and are plugged into wellness, self-help or relationship worlds on social media, therapy-speak is our first language. Here, algorithms feed us from a bottomless well of content by coaches and other self-proclaimed experts who teach us how to cope with being triggered; how to identify a narcissist; how to “show up” in relationships; how to hold a boundary and so much more. With every scroll, a new tutorial in human psychology. But what are we actually learning?

“By virtue of being human beings, we’re masters at distancing ourselves from difficult aspects of emotional life,” says Dr Jonathan Shedler, a psychologist at the University of California, San Francisco. “One way we distance ourselves is through words. What we’ve got now is this kind of pop-psychology language of clichés, abstract concepts and turns of phrase that are so different from speaking from the heart.”

For Shedler, modern therapy-speak is “not actually a product of reflection and examination”. In psychotherapy, he says, “we always move from the general to the specific. People will say something general or abstract and a good therapist is always asking for examples. If a person says that they felt stressed, we might say, ‘OK, tell me more about that. How did you experience the stress?’ If a patient is using therapy-speak, the goal of the work has to be to move away from this to something more immediate and emotionally alive.”

Platforms such as YouTube, Instagram and TikTok pull in colossal viewing numbers on these abstract concepts. Search “gaslighting” on YouTube and the top result (“10 Examples of What Gaslighting Sounds Like”) has 3.3m views. On TikTok, the #narcissism hashtag has 3.8bn views. Search “triggered” on Instagram and a tidal wave of multimedia content appears. You can scroll for 10 minutes and still be fed lists, memes and vlogs. Even if only a small portion of viewers take the language they’re absorbing online into their offline conversations, we can still imagine how easily it seeps into public consciousness. Particularly among young people, the main demographic for platforms like TikTok.

We might argue that an increased awareness of psychological dynamics, and a growing ease for identifying and discussing mental health issues, are particularly good things for teenagers and young adults. The historical backdrop is that mental health was shrouded in stigma and taboo for so long. If young people can have a freer, more matter-of-fact understanding of mental health, it may lead to less suffering in silo. Maybe even a positive effect on generations to come. But the expansion of certain language worries some professionals who work with young people.

Kate teaches biology in a secondary school in Manchester, where she has worked for 15 years. She has been a form tutor for 10. In her experience, conversations she hears among teenagers – and the way issues brought to her are described – have changed dramatically in the last five years. “I hear words like ‘triggered’, ‘gaslighting’ and ‘narcissist’ so often now,” she says. “Young people are using these words to describe their fellow pupils and other teachers, when they feel hurt or singled out. I had to look up what gaslighting meant.”

She reflects empathically on how difficulties in friendships when you’re at school can “feel like the end of the world”. “You want to validate how they feel,” she says. “Because being a teenager is really hard. But sometimes it seems as if they’re wedded to words they’ve picked up on social media. They’re dismissing each other and, sometimes, struggling to take responsibility for their own behaviour because they have compelling words like ‘triggered’ that make their own feelings the most important thing, above all else.”

Kate wanted to be quoted under a pseudonym. She was worried that her reflections might be seen to be taking a coping strategy away from young people when “the world is stacked against them.” It makes sense.

Climate change weighs heavy on their minds. Media influence and gender norms continue to create a disparity between their lived reality and future aspirations. (Men are still portrayed as independent, emotionally stoic and in roles that signify strength; women as childcarers, home-keepers and care-workers. A young person’s real-life sense of themselves may not fit with the images they absorb, and may cause mental distress or limit a young person’s sense of potential.) The pandemic, social inequality, austerity and online harm have driven a huge rise in NHS mental health referrals – and the system is buckling. Thresholds for getting specialist help are so high that many young people are refused care, sometimes with fatal consequences. It is a curious phenomenon that, while statistics suggest young people’s mental health is declining, social media has provided a compelling language with which to navigate their lives.

But some therapists (including myself, and many I know) believe that the expressive nature of therapy-speak is, actually, not all that expressive. The language barely aligns with what therapy is; a singular relationship between the therapist and their client, with its own intimate context and idiosyncrasies.

Shedler focuses on the word “triggered”. “For some people, it’s very difficult to say, ‘I was angry’ or, ‘I was terrified’. So there’s already a layer of obfuscation about what their internal experience is. Something we try very hard not to do in therapy is locate the upsetting thing externally. If you leave the ‘I was triggered’ there, your internal experience is almost secondary. In meaningful therapy we try to reverse that. All our experiences take on personal meaning. The work of therapy is to explore those layers.”

The psychotherapists I have trained with, and been supervised by, use very little of the therapy-speak I see on social media. Theory and literature inform the work, but conversations are in much more plain English than you might think. This is what we try to invite in our clients: the freedom to speak plainly.

In my experience, some younger clients have brought in words like “triggering”, “gaslighting”, “narcissism” and some confident diagnoses of others’ “personality disorders”. Sometimes, it has seemed hard for them to name emotions like fear or anger. The influence over their language doesn’t just come from social media, but from reality shows like Love Island, Love is Blind and Married at First Sight. (I was struck at how often the term “gaslighting” was used in the last season of MAFS, a show that consumed me more than I’d care to admit.)

It can take a long time to get beneath the use of these terms – which may be described as a defence mechanism – and explore someone’s deeper, more vulnerable emotional experiences. This relies on building a safe, trusting relationship. But often we don’t have time.

For so many people, long-term therapy is unaffordable. In the UK, if you can’t afford private therapy, mental health support on the NHS is often dictated by a postcode lottery and limited to six-to-eight sessions of CBT. Short-term work can be effective and meaningful for some people. But in-depth therapy is often a luxury. This might explain why the confessional nature of therapy-speak annoys some of us. It might seem imperious; a white, middle-class gate-keeping of suffering from people who, in relative terms, suffer the least.

I’m reminded of a Twitter thread from 2019 on which someone offered a template for responding to a friend in distress when you don’t feel able to help. It said: “Hey! I’m so glad you reached out. I’m actually at capacity/helping someone else who’s in crisis/dealing with some personal stuff right now, and I don’t think I can hold appropriate space for you. Could we connect [later date or time] instead/Do you have someone else you could reach out to?” The vocabulary was widely made fun of, with many people identifying how hard the person was working to avoid a friend in distress.

For Shedler, the kind of therapy-speak we’re saturated with online is particularly destructive: “It alienates us from our internal experience while pretending to do the opposite,” he says. We might say it’s helping people to become so much more psychologically minded. But he feels “the reality is it’s actually doing the reverse.” It’s probably true that there’s little room for self-awareness, or taking responsibility, if we’re quick to tell people they’re gaslighting us by expressing something we don’t agree with. (Incidentally, the term comes from a film in the 1940s, not psychology literature.) Or if we confuse conflict with “abuse”.

I have shifted positions on the casual use of therapy-speak many times. I still don’t know exactly what I think, other than that I think about it a lot. I have worked in a charity providing therapy to survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. Many of my clients have struggled with the effects of austerity and navigating the benefits system, while living with chronic health issues that compound their emotional distress. As a result, I have bristled at the term “trauma” being bandied around. I have balked at pithy Instagram memes about drinking, after witnessing the devastation of addiction. I’ve also observed that people are still more likely to minimise their distress than embellish it.

I have struggled seeing “triggers” (a concept derived from the treatment of PTSD) so widely appropriated, and the increased cultural understanding that we should avoid being triggered at all costs. This is in conflict with the most robustly evidenced approach for trauma therapy: to slowly and carefully help someone tolerate their discomfort by increasing their exposure to their feelings, both in the room with a therapist, and in the outside world.

However, writing all this down also makes me think, what right do I have to assume passport control for certain words? The language of healing, or surviving, will look different for everyone. It’s complex.

Social media undoubtedly plays a role in flattening human emotions into neat, shareable terms. We’re encouraged to pathologise friends, family or lovers with vocabulary that strips away nuance and context. This probably does get in the way of the “speaking from the heart” that Shedler speaks of. It might help us feel more powerful when we’re hurt or afraid. But what happens to the pain and fear once we’ve labelled someone? Where does it go?

I’m not sure where I sit with some of the other language. If someone says they were traumatised by the pandemic – by isolation, caring for dying people, loss of loved ones, financial ruin, long Covid – is that not valid? If a young person is struggling because their parents can barely afford to feed them, or with their identity in a world that doesn’t seem hospitable to who they might want to be, might appropriating therapy-speak help them feel like they have more agency?

A good experience of therapy can help someone flourish. It’s also an experience many of us might struggle to have. But notions of the therapy world continue to be positioned as the “right” way of being; in ourselves, and with each other. Therapy-speak might be annoying, tiring and get in the way of authentic emotional expression. Perhaps even with damaging consequences. But something so pervasive requires a little more than suspicion.

Could the expansion of this language speak to a collective hunger for a framework that helps us talk about our existence in modern society? That is, trying to feel peaceful, purposeful and connected while many structural forces collide and make that existence feel harder and harder. There’s no clear solution, other than: make the world easier to live in. But a therapist might tell you that’s magical thinking.

#therapy speak #psychobabble

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aro-geo-turtle · 9 months ago

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Hfth ep 51

—awww fishing date. Jonah offhandedly mentions the possibility of moving and hector just immediately starts making plans lol

—hearing the shit that downing hill is up to from Olivier must have been so confusing for Jonah, I want to see that missing scene

—froglins, oh dear

—I’m glad Huntington and the others are finding their places! Looking forward to getting to know them better as individuals. Honestly hearing that Stitchery “walks around like a vampire” makes me like them more lol

—griffocaughs confuse me because I want to imagine them as griffin-adjacent when they’re really just fucked up deer

—I am extremely worried about our main four leaving the Hallowoods for their rescue road trip while the froglins are on the rise, leaving the scoutpost without several very powerful allies. …mostly Diggory and Olivier, really

—I think Bern’s working through some issues related to the next generation taking up the sword (literally in Riot’s case) and starting to do things their own way, which is a really interesting arc for her

—Polly and yaretzi really are just mort’s parents and it’s wonderful. I can’t believe how much my opinion on Polly has come around since his first episode, from “oh this guy SUCKS” to him genuinely being one of my fav characters. He wants to show mort a carnival 😭😭😭 and is trying so hard not to let him see how scared he is 😭

—Nik’s ending monologue this ep was really strong. Sometimes you have to be the one who creates the map for others!

—I think there’s an interesting parallel going with season one having started with all the characters is disparate locations and then slowly winding their way towards the massive team up battle all together. This season seems to be slowly splitting them back up onto disparate storylines. I’m ok with that, seeing everyone together was really cool but I also missed getting bits and pieces of three separate plots each episode

#hfth #hfth spoilers #hello from the hallowoods #hfth liveblog #hfth ep 51

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haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 1 year ago

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Thanks to everyone who provided input on yesterday’s post about whether or not I should allow a poll for a Harry Potter movie. Below are my full thoughts on the issue, but the TLDR is that I plan to go with options 3 and 4, which involve posting the film but with a disclaimer about not supporting JKR as well as adding fewer tags to the post so her supporters are less likely to see it.

I want to make it clear that I am strongly opposed to people posting about Harry Potter in any sort of “fandomy” way, as I view that as an overt promotion of media that a violent bigot is currently profiting off of and using said profits to harm marginalized people. My conflict regarding posting about it on this blog is that I don’t view this blog as a fandom-centric one, but rather one centered around information gathering. Some people responded to my initial post by pointing out that a Harry Potter poll would be redundant as the series is obviously extremely popular, so the results would no doubt be primarily “yes,” however I feel that this sentiment is contradictory to this blog’s goal of finding out how popular these films truly are on Tumblr. I, myself, have not seen the Harry Potter movie in question (it’s the last one in the franchise) and would be curious to learn how many others would vote “no” or even “haven’t heard of this movie,” even if they will likely be the minority.

In my initial post, I voiced my concern about it coming across as “odd” for me to take some sort of action on Harry Potter movies, though what I should’ve said is that I do not want to come across as hypocritical. Currently, the queue includes films that involve controversial figures like Johnny Depp, Mel Gibson, Clint Eastwood, and potentially others that have done stuff that I don’t even know about. Just recently I posted a Megamind poll, despite the fact that one of its stars, Jonah Hill, has recently been accused of abuse (though I believe the poll was queued up before these allegations were public,) and I can’t even imagine how many films would be removed from the queue if I were to eliminate any that the Weinsteins were involved in. As I said in my initial post, the nature of the film industry means that a lot of popular films have been worked on by horrible people. I feel it would be hypocritical to avoid posting certain movies that involve horrible people if I then go on to post *other* movies that also involve horrible people.

For these reasons, I have decided that the HP movie will be posted when its time comes, but with precautions taken to avoid the poll making into unsavory circles, including a disclaimer about not supporting JKR and fewer HP-related tags so that her fans are less likely to find it; only the full title of the movie will be tagged, both for organizational purposes and so that people can blacklist it if they do not wish to see it.

I understand that some may disagree with this decision and I wouldn’t blame anyone for unfollowing me for it. I thought about it a lot and I just could not come up with a way to mentally justify censoring one film without censoring dozens of others, and doing that would defeat the purpose of this blog. Thanks to everyone for understanding.

#text

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gothicprep · 1 year ago

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that jonah hill breakup text is definitely very weird, but calling it “abusive” seems like an uncharitable read of it. there’s way too much context missing to determine that.

the surfing with men and modeling comments are definitely a little sus, but you can easily imagine that the specific issues related to this stuff were something that was discussed between the two of them off the record. it’s not like you formulate every text you send with the assumption that this will be screenshotted and shared with an audience who doesn’t know either of you personally or anything about your relationship. like, iunno, it’s a pretty serious allegation to throw at someone as a third party (afaik sarah brady has not used that language herself) and it’s probably, like, not a great idea to be frivolous about it.

#the modeling one especially is very I Could See There Being A Lot More Context Here #ex flame of mine did modeling in the past and some of the stories she told me about it were VERY sketchy #she did not have many kind words for it. I’ll tell you that much

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stromuprisahat · 2 years ago

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For a moment Saera was at a loss for words, but only for a moment. Then she gasped and said, “My Sweetberry? Truly? She…oh, what has she done? Oh, my sweet little fool.” If Septon Barth’s testimony is to be believed, a tear rolled down her cheek. Her mother was not moved. “You know perfectly well what she has done. What all of you have done. We will have the truth from you now, child.” And when the princess looked to her father, she found no comfort there. “Lie to us again, and it will go very much the worse for you,” King Jaehaerys told his daughter. “Your three lords are in the dungeons, you ought know, and what you say next may determine where you sleep tonight.” Saera crumbled then, and the words came tumbling out one after another in a rush, a flood that left the princess almost breathless. “She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. ... “What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.” Jaehaerys was so horrified he could not speak, but the queen kept her composure. “You are very proud of yourself, I see. A woman grown, and nearly seven-and-ten. I am sure you think you have been very clever, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. What do you imagine will happen now, Saera?” “I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.” She had gone too far. Jaehaerys rose to his feet and descended from the Iron Throne, his face a mask of rage. “You would compare yourself to Maegor? Is that who you aspire to be?” His Grace had heard enough. “Take her back to her bedchamber,” he told his guards, “and keep her there until I send for her again.” When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father. ... The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “She is our daughter,” she told the king. “She must be punished, yes, but she is still a child, and where there is sin there can be redemption. My lord, my love, you reconciled with the lords who fought for your uncle, you forgave the men who rode with Septon Moon, you reconciled with the Faith, and with Lord Rogar when he tried to tear us apart and put Aerea on your throne, surely you can find some way to reconcile with your own daughter.” ... That very night, Princess Saera sealed her fate. Instead of remaining in her rooms as she had been instructed, she slipped away whilst visiting the privy, donned a washerwoman’s robes, stole a horse from the stables, and escaped the castle. She got halfway across the city, to the Hill of Rhaenys, but as she tried to enter the Dragonpit, she was found and taken by the Dragonkeepers and returned to the Red Keep.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

... and the Academy Award for the best actress in 84 AC goes to ...

Fragile, scared Daella HAD TO be married off at fifteen, but her younger sister's not even betrothed at seventeen? No wonder she felt like she's overlooked and she's "acting out".

Why is it such an issue Saera is no longer a virgin? It's not like she's wrong. She's a princess- give her some tea, wait a few months and marry her off. This is one of those cases that nicely show Jaehaerys was very comfortable with Westerosi traditions, and he was more than happy to view women as walking,- annoyingly also talking- cunts.

Men are so quick to disown their children. Is it because they didn't carry them? Does zero investment at the beginning make it so much easier to cut the losses?!

You know what?! I wish Saera had managed to claim a dragon before she got caught. How did Rhaena "start a tradition of giving dragon's egg into Targaryen cradle", when whole generation after, none of the children got it?! Is it because there was so many babies? They weren't worth the effort?!

#ASoIaF #Fire & Blood #valyrianscrolls #ch: The Long Reign Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy Progeny and Pain #Saera Targaryen #Jaehaerys I Targaryen #Alysanne Targaryen #Septon Barth #Gyles Morrigen #V #books #quotes #GRRM

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itsawhumpsideblog · 4 months ago

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Prologue, Book 1

No content warnings for the prologue, unless I've done something unintentionally stereotypical in writing Irish characters in which case, mea culpa! The song I quoted at the beginning of the chapter is "Sweet Hills of Cavan", which you can listen to here: https://youtu.be/siwrJ-aLf9E

"The sweet hills of Cavan

Moss covered rocks

And lush meadows green..

It's the loveliest place you've ever seen."

~Hills of Cavan

Patrick Murphy was one of those people for whom nothing ever seemed to go wrong. We grew up together and, as children, it was always I who caught the smack Patrick missed as he dodged the farmer whose fields we had invaded, or I who received the penance for talking during Mass, though it was Patrick who had laughed aloud. I resented him like hell, and sometimes downright hated him. Strange thing was, he was my best friend.

Now, the other mystery to me is how somebody as purely golden as Patrick was could choose to spend his time with such a Jonah as myself. Where Patrick succeeded, I failed. Where Patrick had good luck, my bad luck was the only luck I had at all. I used to joke that if Patrick ever made it to the end of the rainbow, he would find two pots of the leprechauns' gold but if I made it, I would be bitten by the leprechaun.

The height of Patrick's good luck came in 1858, early in the year, when his parents decided to move the family to New York. I was out working with my father in his fishing boat and when we docked, Patrick was standing there.

"Micheál!" he called as the boat docked and when I got out, looking curiously towards him, he blurted out,

"I'm going to New York!" I stared. It was unlike Patrick to lose composure, but he was shaking with anticipation and wringing his hands. His grin stretched from ear to ear and as I walked back to the village with the day's catch in a net he was dancing down the road beside me.

"Da's bought the tickets," he explained, "Mother didn't want to tell us until it was sure, but we're going, Micheál. We're really going." He kept telling me all the details, but I tuned him out mentally. Losing Patrick and his parents and siblings, who had lived next door to us my entire life, was not a thought I liked. I guess I had imagined us all growing up and staying in the village forever, though when I gave some thought to the idea it wasn't at all what I would have wanted for my sisters. But Bridget was supposed to grow up to marry Declan, Patrick's brother, and Patrick would go into his father's blacksmithing trade and I would inherit the boats, and we would grow to be old men who sat around our daughters' houses smoking smelly pipes and reliving the old days.

Instead, Patrick and Declan and Colleen and their parents would be leaving for New York at the end of the month. I wanted to go, too- Patrick had all the luck. I was sick of starving in this green wasteland, I thought to myself. In America, Patrick wouldn't go hungry and his mother and father would be able to find work and his brother and sister could go to school. At 15, it was assumed that neither Patrick or I needed any more schooling and would go off to work, and I envied Patrick his opportunities, for which he needed neither to ask nor to work.

Patrick was staring off into the distance, running his fingers through his red hair. "You know, Micheál, I'm going to miss you." I nodded glumly. "I wish you could come with us." Of course he knew how I dreamed of America- for all I resented him his good looks and his lucky ways, he was my best friend and we shared everything.

Patrick left me in peace then and we walked in silence back to town, I carrying my smelly fishing net. We bid each other goodbye at the doors of our cottages and I went inside. Mother had the potatoes off the fire already and we were waiting for Da to get home from the boat.

"Micheál, did you hear about the Murphys?" my sister Maura asked as I walked in. I nodded. Maura looked at me sympathetically over her sewing. "I'm sorry they're leaving," she said, as though she didn't mean it for my sake. "It'll be right strange, not having them next door. I don't know what we'll do for entertainment if Declan isn't here to be getting himself into mischief." She laughed unconvincingly and turned back to the skirt she was repairing.

We had a month before Patrick and his family left, and in that month Patrick and I spent as much time together as we possibly could. We had always spent most of our free time in each other's company, but now we began doing chores in tandem, and for me at least every evening parting was tinged with the sick reminder that he would be leaving soon. Boys aren't supposed to feel these things, or talk about them if they do, but I had never lived without Patrick and wasn't sure what I would do when he left.

At last the day arrived. The Murphys had sold or given away everything they couldn’t take with them and were ready to leave in the morning for the harbor, to sail to New York where Patrick's Aunt and Uncle lived.

"Micheál?" Patrick said absently as we pulled my boat up out of the water, "Will you write to me?"

"I'll try," I told him honestly, though I was unsure where I would get the materials. Mother had made sure that her children went to school and so I could write quite well, but paper could be scarce- ink even scarcer. Patrick nodded.

"I'll write you back," he said. That evening, before we parted, Patrick clapped me on the shoulder and said, his voice unusually thick, "Take care of yourself, lad."

Instead of going inside, I went around the house and out to the hills in the dark. I wandered around aimlessly until my eyes were no longer red and I could speak without my voice catching. I must not have been out long enough, though, because Mother's and Maura's eyes followed me sympathetically all evening.

When we woke the next morning, Patrick and his family were gone.

Masterpost

#historical whump #slow burn whump #whump novels #whump

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