#They were both profoundly betrayed by people who were supposed to be doing the same thing they need the other to do now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moondustis · 5 years ago

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tangerine blossoms (m)

pairing: min yoongi + reader genre: 19th century!au, vampire!au, fluff, smut wc: 12k | content warning: mentions of blood and death. loss of virginity. summary: “You catch him watching you, of course you do, a smile gracing your lips and he figures this is the agony all the poets had wrote about.” song rec: softly by clairo

WINTER

You heard about Min Yoongi before you actually met him.

The town you lived in was small. So small that news spread like fire and just after two days of the death of Mr. Min, a noble man that lived on the big mansion near the lake, everyone already knew of the latest gossip. Mr. Min never married, and therefore never had children, so the only person that could take care of his house and business was a nephew that lived far away somewhere cold. And that’s just the top of the whole story, there was multiple speculations underneath that, but you usually preffered to stay out of too raunchy conversations.

To make matters even more unusual, to say so, the Jungs, another one of the rich families, were going to throw a ball to welcome the newcomer. A ball, just the mere mention of that was enough to make anyone shriek with excitement because, well, that didn’t happen very often. It was a small town, like you had mentioned, nothing even too scandalous or exciting ever happened in rural areas.

But that was about to change.

You can barely breath in the dress you’re wearing, something old and simple your mother had found but still managed to tie the corset as tight as possible. To entice a possible husband, she had said. It seemed that these days the fact you, the only girl out of three sons, still being unmarried was plaguing her profoundly.

The ball was what you think a ball is supposed to be. There’s music and many people dancing around, while others stay in the corners gossiping about who will dance with who. You’re closest to the latter, since you never had the opportunity to attend one of these and the only time you had danced was when your friend, Wendy, wanted to practice in case the opportunity ever came. One of your brothers had promised to teach you, but that was before he had to go away to fight a war he didn’t care about.

This was the opportunity to dance, probably the only one you’d have in awhile, but still the both of you stay glued to a corner. People watching, is what you liked to call it. “Bit boring, don’t you think?” You say over the loud music and cheers.

“Yes. But we can always dance, can’t we?” She replies, raising one eyebrow at you as your lips falter in an attempt to laugh.

“Together? That would be quite a sight.” It would and people would talk about it for days until you couldn’t stand it anymore. But you wanted to, so desperately. It seemed like that was the only way to have a little fun on these.

“It’s not like any gentleman will ask us, anyway.” That makes you scoff, because it was true. It wasn’t that the two of you were unattractive, you both had your pleasant features. It was more due to the fact that you were poor, and the other girls, well, they had gone all out to buy expensive dresses and jewellery for this occasion. And most of them were married already, but you? You had better things to think about, other than giving your freedom to a man that would never understand that you dreamed of things bigger than this.

“Have you seen what Mrs. Jung is wearing? I’ve never seen a dress so pink in my entire life.” Wendy changes the subject, and you focus your vision on Mrs. Jung, an old lady that once wanted you to marry her son, until she realized you had no interest in sewing.

“I think she forgets she’s almost sixty sometimes.” That earns a loud laugh from her and a few mean glances from people near you.

Another song begins, probably the sixth so far and you wonder where the main attraction of the party was. Everyone had been beyond excited to see how the young Min looked and how they could get close to him, to benefit from the house his uncle had left behind. You were curious too, had wondered briefly what kind of person he would be, hoping that it was better than his relatives. The late Mr. Min was as much unpleasant, as he was full of himself.

It isn’t until Wendy nudges you harshly that you snap out of your thoughts. “He’s here.” She whispers and your head immediately shoots up, straight to the point everyone seems to be staring at.

A man, with slightly pale skin and dark hair walks inside wearing black velvet that stands out from how detailed it is. He has sharp eyes but his skin is soft and when he grins at something the tall man next to him whispers in his ear, you can see the faint glimpse of a gummy smile. He’s beautiful, enough to make the other men in the room jealous and the women regret their marriage choice.

You gape until your eyes are met with the last sight you would wish to see, your mother and father making their way to the man with suspicious smiles on their faces. You watch as the man greets them with a curious look on his face and that’s enough for you to almost run to their encounter, in hopes to prevent tragic events from happening. Your mother was known for having a mouth bigger than she could handle.

“Oh! Mr. Min,” She exclaims when she sees you and that is not a good sign. “This is the daughter I was telling you about, ____. The only girl out of 3 boys and she is yet to be married. Would you believe that?”

“Mother!” You are sure you are either pale or red from embarrassment but if the conversation is bothering him, he doesn't show it. Instead there's amusement on his face as he looks at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss ___” He says, bowing and the only thing you can think about as you bow back is that his voice sounds like honey.

Your mother continues talking, ignoring any signs that this is far from what to say to a stranger about your daughter. “I suppose it is because she has taken a liking to reading more than to learn how to cook and sew.”

“Mother!” You can’t help but groan, hiding your face as the man accompanying Mr. Min chuckles lightly.

“Well I come to think reading is a very enriching activity. In fact my uncle happens to have a big library in his house that I look forward to explore.” His eyes don’t leave you as he says that, not even when your father speaks for the first time since your arrival.

“We are well very aware. ______ has plagued us by talking about how she dreams of having a library like that one day.”

That makes him smile lightly as he directs his next words at you. “Perhaps you could come by someday then, Miss ___.”

“Oh my, really!?” Your own voice betrays you with how loud it gets, but there’s no hiding your excitement at the mere thought of visiting the library you had only heard about. People would say that he had over a thousand books and also kept paintings in there. Your father’s words were true, you had dreamed about it once or twice. “But wouldn’t it be a bother? I would hate to intrude, you don’t have invite me just to be nice.”

Your nervous blabbering seems to amuse him even further and soon he’s shaking his head. “Not at all, just drop by anytime and you can spend as much time there as you want.”

You contain yourself from shrieking, just thanking him as much as you can before he has to move to speak to other people.

✹

Your hands are slightly shaking under your gloves as you knock on the huge door to the Min house. You had only passed by it a couple of times before, and heard as people went on about how big it was but still, nothing could’ve prepared you for how it looked up close. It could be a palace for all you knew, with the big pillars and complicated wood work.

You stare at with awe as you wait for the door to open and when it does an man with a warm smile greets you. “Good morning, Miss ___.” He says with a cheerful voice and his use of your name makes you remember that he’s the same man that accompanied Mr. Min to the ball a week ago.

“Hello.” You reply as cheerfully as him before you’re bowing and extending the basket filled with biscuits your mother had sent you out of the house with. “I brought some biscuits.”

As if possible, his smile grows even bigger as he takes the gift from your hands and gestures you in. “How sweet of you, I’m sure Yoongi will like them very much with some tea.” He says guiding you inside the house, that somehow looks even bigger and prettier from the inside with fancy furnitures and paintings covering the walls. “I’ll take you to the library, shall we?”

Hoseok guides you inside the house slowly, as if he knew you wanted time to stare at all the beautiful paintings on the way, until he stops and you’re standing outside closed marble doors. “Here we are.” He opens the door for you, letting you inside. “I’m Jung Hoseok, by the way, Mr. Min’s caretaker. Feel free to call for me if you need anything.”

Before you can even laugh at his joke, or thank him for the kindness, the words escape your mouth as you stare with eyes shining at the library you had only dreamt about until now. It’s huge, with big windows and a balcony door letting the light in on the velvet furniture, making it even more beautiful. The walls are filled with paintings just like the other parts of the house and for you immense pleasure, there are rows and rows filled with so many books that never in your lifetime you would be able to finish reading them all.

You are so entranced by the sight in front of you, mouth gaping and eyes roaming, that you don’t even hear him coming in until his voice fills the room. “Is it what you imagined, Miss ___?”

“Mr. Min!” You turn back, startled by his sudden appearance, but quickly bowing to him. “I have no words to thank you, it is more than I could ever imagine.”

He chuckles at your excitement, passing around and you follow him like a child. “You haven’t even read any books yet, there’s nothing to thank me for.”

To be fairly honest you hadn’t expected him to be joining you on your visits, and certainly not being so relaxed and kind. After the ball, people had started making assumptions of what kind of person he was, based on their small interactions with him and it was mostly unpleasant things. They had said that he was a reserved man, cold and strict but so far he seemed to be far from these things, just a little intimidating.

“I’m sure it won’t be hard to find something to read in here.” You reply, smiling genuinely at him. “I wasn’t even aware that so many books existed.”

He laughs again and you decide it is a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing often. “Yes, my uncle was quite fond of his collections.” He enters a section, you following right behind, eyeing his back as he let his fingers dance on the shelved books. “It’s the most prized thing he has left for me.”

You feel a sudden warmth at your heart, knowing that he was letting you in on a place that he seemed to enjoy very much. You also feel extreme excitement knowing that he shares the same passion as you. “I’m truly honored to be here, Mr. Min. Thank you again, for inviting me.”

He turns to you, nodding with a smile on his lip. “Of course. How could I’ve not invited you when your mother said this is the only activity you’re interested on.”

A blush paints your cheeks, eyes going down bashfully as you remembered his interaction with your mother. “I am interested in other things, my mother just likes a little drama.” You defend yourself, basking on the sound of his chuckle. “But reading is my passion, I’m hoping to become an author someday.”

Of the wildest dream you could have for your future, writing had been it from a very young age. You remember picking up the first book you ever read and feeling like there was nothing that could stop you from chasing your wishes, and that, for a girl living in a small village in a small house and sharing a room with three older brothers, meant everything.

“Oh, a writer.” He sounds sincerely surprised. “What do you wish to write about?”

You shake a bit in excitement at the opportunity to talk about your dream. No one that knew about it bothered to ask you about your interests, they all said it was rather silly for you to want to have a career and that you should just focus on getting a husband first and foremost. A stupid thing to think about. “I want to write about normal things, normal people. Like the baker that’s raising his son alone and my brother who had to leave his dream of becoming a teacher behind to fight the war.” You say, voice bright as he listens attentively. “I think every person deserves to have their story told, no matter how insignificant they think it is.”

“That’s very noble of you.” He says genuinely, making you smile. “I would love to read something by you someday.”

And that’s enough to have you smiling like a fool for the rest of the morning, as he shares his favorite books with you and you tell him the many reasons why you had loved Portrait of a Lady so much. Hoseok even comes by after some time with tea and biscuits you had brought, and you’re so excited that you don’t realize that Yoongi doesn't really eat them.

It’s a lovely day, so lovely that you’re there the next day too, and the next. After the first visit, it is like you’re at the Min household all of the time, because even if Mr. Min had said you could borrow the books and take them home with you, he had also said that you could come by anytime you wanted to read in the library. And why would you stay at home, with your mother pestering you about chores when you could be surrounded by books and in the presence of someone so kind.

A nice routine settles easily, you’ll come around in the early morning and Hoseok, Yoongi’s caregiver as he would call himself, will greet you at the door with a smile and an offer for tea and biscuits, which you always accept. Then you’ll go to the library, pick a book and stay there as long as you can handle before you have to at home for lunch.

Most of the times, Mr. Min will accompany you, with a book and teacup of his own. Hoseok too joins in sometimes but it’s usually just you and Yoongi, sitting across from each other on the twin dark green couches that are placed on the middle of he room.

Some days, it’s a bit unsettling because he will look more serious, intimidating even, with his dark gowns and few words, but it only takes you awhile to realize that on these days he’ll start talking if you are the one that starts it, and you have no problem in doing so. You talk and talk about anything and he indulges you with witty comments and not very often laughs.

It’s pleasant to find out about the place he used to live in before and about his family, and that the both of you have more in common than you would ever think. He’s gentle, funny in a way that sometimes takes you a moment to understand, and caring, always offering you more tea and asking if you would like that he shut the windows closed because of the cold.

And the thing you liked the most, is that he treats you like a person. Most of the man you had met before had treated you like you were either not worth their time or as if you were a mere consumption item that had to come with the right assets. No, Min Yoongi treated you like a woman that had other interests than dresses and dancing, even though you still enjoyed both of those things. He asked you difficult questions and discussed the books he was reading with you, actually listening to what you had to say.

And perhaps that’s what makes you heart beat a little faster out of the sudden on a particular morning, when his fingers accidentally brush yours when he passes you the teacup. Or perhaps is the way you can feel him sneaking glances at you when you are not doing the same to him. But whatever it is, it had unleashed the butterflies on your stomach and now they were at his mercy, going absolutely feral when he would catch you staring and your eyes would meet for only a fracture of time, before he would clear his throat and go back to his book.

Hoseok catches on that quickly and he stops joining the two of you less and less. And sometimes you will even sit on the same couch, reading quietly and stealing bolder glances but that is all. It never moves past that and the butterflies are impatient, but there’s nothing you can do but wait.

SPRING

The beginning of spring brings with itself beautiful flowers and the sun shining brightly on the sky. Your clothing quickly become unbearable and most of the days you have to opt for flowy dresses instead of the usuals with thick fabrics.

With the weather getting warmer and warmer it also becomes unbearable to stay inside the house, or even worse at Yoongi’s library, so when you visit, he accompanies you to his garden for a walk or to read near the lake. It would be a waste not to do so anyway, because it’s a beautiful garden, had been since his uncle was alive and Yoongi made sure that it stayed that way. With beautiful plants and flowers, and trees filled with fruits.

You both walk side by side until your eyes find a tree filled with orange colored fruits and beautiful white flowers. “Are those tangerines?” You ask with excitement, practically running to the tree.

“Yes, they are.” His voice is amused as you cheer while collecting a few flowers and arranging them in your hair, turning for a second just to gift him with one as well. He takes it with a shake of his head, finding the act extremely silly.

“Oh wow!” You pick one that looks good enough to eat, running your fingers through the skin as memories fill your mind. When you were a child you would go to your grandparents farm with your brothers and they would always help you pick the best tangerines out of the tree. “It has been awhile since I had one.”

You peel it quickly as Yoongi places down the towel you had brought on the grass and sits down, book already on his hand. You sit down by his side, a piece of the fruit already on your fingers and you just plop it into your mouth after he denies it when you offer to him.

The taste is so pleasant that you can’t help but hum, eyes closing momentarily, not even noticing that a bit of the juice had began running down your hands. But Yoongi does, his eyes not leaving you and soon he’s reprimanding you. “You'll ruin your dress.” He scolds, your eyes snapping open as you finish chewing. “Sometimes I wonder if you truly have no manners or if you have just become too comfortable around me.”

You scoff. He’s great at overreacting because you had barely done anything. “I’m very well mannered, Mr. Min.” You say, plopping another piece of the fruit in your mouth as you rest relaxed on your elbows. Besides, must I always be ladylike? Even when I’m eating fruit?”

“I’ve told you to call me by my name already.” He breathes out, clearly entertained by your words. He always seemed to be with the things you said. “And I suppose not. But you that men like when women are ladylike.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Men are futile creatures, don’t you think? All they can think about is if a girl is pretty enough and has good manners.” All men but one your mind provides and you have to bite the words you want to say. “I couldn’t care less about that.”

He knows that very well. Has heard your complaints about how you couldn’t possibly think of marriage when every man that appeared in front of you is as shallow as they all seemed to think women were. “You have a fair point. But I’m sure you’ll find one that doesn’t care about your messy behaviour.” You scoff again and he opens his book then, flipping the pages with furrowed brows until he finds the one he stopped on.

“Wouldn’t you say I already have?” You eye him, tangerine juice on your lips and the sun hot on your face. He always looks paler on the sun, his dark eyes shining slightly, making for a breathtaking view that makes you bold and shy at the same time. Your words make him remove his eyes from the book to stare at you with raised eyebrows. He knows what you meant, always does when you let go of your inhibition for a little.

But if he has something to say, he chooses not to. The silence that follows is filled with the sounds of birds chirping and your chewing before you have had enough and decide to speak again.

“My mom used to make tangerine marmalade for us when we were kids. Have you ever tried it?” He doesn't remove his eyes from the book this time and it annoys you profoundly.

“No. The taste of it is not very pleasing to me.” He replies shortly, your eyes stay glued to him.

“I see. I was thinking of bringing some home with me to make it for you, but I guess I’ll have to find something else now.” It’s a lie because you weren't really thinking of anything, just wanted something to talk about and he sure knows that as well.

“I thought you didn't know how to cook.” He looks at you for a second as you gasp at his comment. It was true, sure, but he didn't have to throw it in your face like that.

“I am learning.” You defend yourself. “Mother is trying to teach me how to make apple pies, but she always gets frustrated halfway through it and just ends up doing it herself.”

That makes him laugh and even though it’s teasing you, you are glad you got to hear the sound of it at least once today. “You can bring me a pie when you learn how to make it. I’ll eat it then.”

You accept his challenge with a shake of your hands that leaves the place he touched tingling and you ignore the feeling by starting to peel another tangerine. The rest of the day is spent in mostly silence as he reads his book and you lay around letting the sun get you tired enough so that you are numb to your own lingering feelings.

✹

Yoongi thinks he’ll go crazy very soon. There are quite some words he would use to describe you, beautiful, soft, kind, smart, but right now the only one that crosses his mind is tempting. You’re wearing a white dress that makes you look angelic, even more so with the flowers you had placed on your hair and the sun makes you practically shine.

He enjoys watching you eat the most, as strange as it sounds, trying not to make it obvious, he sneaks glances from behind his books as you eat the tangerines in a way that makes him dizzy, with how the juice of it wets your lips and fingers and you moan around it as if it’s the most delicious thing you had ever ate. It sounds sinful and he wishes he could touch you, wants to so desperately that he is sure he will go absolutely insane.

You catch him watching you, of course you do, a bashful smile gracing your lips and he figures this is the agony all the poets had wrote about. The heart wants what it wants, isn’t that what they all say? And his yearns for the only thing he has ever wanted like this this, like he’s burning from inside.

✹

The rumors start a few months after Mr. Min has settled in. It’s a mere act of jealousy, you think, that people can’t live in the luxurious house he has and that he won’t bother with pleasantries towards people that want to know only about his money. It starts as merely calling him conceited, for not inviting anyone to visit and for not coming to the village very often. You wonder what people would say if they knew you are at his house almost as much as you are at yours. Probably that you were unworthy or that you were trying to milk him out of his money.

Then it becomes something more. You see, there’s not much to do in a rural area and that gives people the time to get creative with their gossip. So Min Yoongi goes from a conceited bastard to a creature in few talks. They say that he won’t leave the house because it will burn his skin, that’s why he’s so pale and that he feeds from the servants he brought from the north. They call him every synonym of monster they can think of and it’s stupid, that’s what you think. You had seen him outside on the sun and nothing had happened and if he fed from blood then why didn’t he do it to you? There was nothing about him that made you feel unsafe. Im fact, his company was more pleasant than anyones else in your opinion.

But your mother, of course seemed to think otherwise. She would go on and on about how you were putting yourself in danger and you shouldn't trust that awful man. It’s outrageous in your opinion, how she was so quick to turn her back on him when he was nothing but nice to your family.

It’s all very stupid and it won't stop you from visiting him, because it also worries you profoundly that he was ever to suffer any harm because of this.

“I brought you a pie.” You say, gesturing to it when Yoongi opens the door after you had almost aggressively knocked on it. You were just desperate to see him, is all, after a few days of not being able to because of your mother and father’s unwillingness.

He looks surprised but as sharp as ever. “You came in early today.” You did, being home was making you fidgety and you had an urge to see him after all that was happening.

“I’m sorry. I just didn't want the pie to go cold.” It's a half lie. The pie would have gone cold if you had waited more, but that was the last of your worries.

“It's fine. It's a very pleasant surprise, you haven’t been here in a couple days.” That’s all he says on the matter, gesturing for you to come inside and you do. “Did your mother make it?”

“No, I did.” You had stayed up all night in order to make it perfect on your second try. The first didn’t cook correctly.

He has the nerve to laugh at that as he walks you both to the kitchen. “Don’t lie.”

A gasp falls out of your lips, a hand going to your heart. “I did! I followed through with her recipe.” You defend yourself, amusing him further. “Can't assure you it's good, but at least I tried.”

“Well, I'm very flattered.” His voice is genuine as you watch him place the pie on the small kitchen table, sitting down while he grabs the utensils to eat it. “I’ll make us some tea to go with it.”

It’s mostly silent while he heats the water to get the tea ready and it makes you wish Hoseok was here, he would certainly save you from the questions of what you had been up to and the lies you have to come up with for not having visited.

When the tea is ready he sits in front of you, pouring the tea as you cut a slice for him and place it on his plate only. “Are you not going to eat?” He says, raising one eyebrow because he had come to realize you were a huge sweets fan.

You shake your head. “No. I made it just for you. And Hoseok, of course.”

He chuckles at that and you finally get to watch him finally eat a bite of it. You realize it’s the first time you had seen Yoongi eat all of this time, he hums around the pie, chewing slowly before he finally speaks. “This is very good, you did a good job.”

The praise makes you smile widely, cheeks flushing. “I did?”

“Yes, can add that to the list of your accomplishments.” He smiles back and you’re glad to be here after the days of not coming.

The conversation progresses as you sip on your tea and he eats small bites of the pie, asking you about the book you had been reading until you can’t take it anymore and the reason why you had come slips from your mouth.

“Have you — Would you like to visit the city with me?” It’s sudden and it makes him look at you a little weirdly, a tilt to his head.

“Why? Is being here not enough entertainment? We have the garden and the library.”

“Yes, but people have been talki-“

He lets out a loud sigh, interrupting you “I don't care what people have to say and you shouldn't either.”

“I don't!” You say because you really don't, but you can’t stand the words that have been said about him. “But they are saying awful things about you and-“

“What is it? What are they saying?” He urges you to just spill it already.

“They are saying you won't come to the city because you are not human.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes by focusing on swirling your spoon on the cup.

He scoffs, sounding just a bit nervous. “That makes no sense. You know I'm human.”

You laugh a little at the silliness of his statement. “I do, but they don't.”

It only takes a few puppy looks from you before he’s muttering “If it’s worrying you to this extent then I guess we could go for a walk.” He says and you bright up at that, clapping as you get up from the table and he follows you. In your excitement, you don’t realize he has left more than half of the pie uneaten.

It turns out that your idea had been awful. The appearance of Min Yoongi on the village does

the exact contrary of what you thought it would and as you two walk around, you pointing to the stores you liked and to the things you would hope he would find amusing, people gather around and give the both of you ugly stares. Yoongi is better at ignoring it than you are, and he tries to distract you as much as possible, guiding you inside the bakery you had said you like and buying you pastries to lift your mood.

It’s only when you get home that you realize what you had done, as your mother tells you the neighbor had come over to gossip about how a young promising girl like you shouldn’t be with a man like that and how he had probably cursed you so you would be with him. You listen with tears in your eyes as your mother reprimands you and says all the most horrible things about Yoongi, things that you know are not true.

SUMMER

Weeks go by until you’re able to see him again. Your mother insists you don’t, but you think you would die from the constant sadness that haunts you from how much you miss him.

It’s when he sends you a gift on your birthday that you can’t endure not seeing him anymore. The writing machine had been accompanied by the pastries you like so dearly and a letter with a simple birthday wish and the hope that you could see each other soon.

You rush out of the house the next day, your heart beating like a young girl that was finally going to be able to see the boy she fancied. Your light dress and the bow tying your hair fly behind you as you practically leap to the Min household.

It’s with flushed cheeks and a silly small that he finds you as he opens the door. “____!” He exhales, sounding almost relieved to see you.

You can’t think properly, throwing yourself into his arms as you hug him tightly. “Oh, Yoongi.” You voice is filled with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

It’s a second before he’s hugging you back, hands twitching as they move to your back. He smells lovely and you are not sure if the warmth you feel is from running on the heat or from his body.

He separates from you with a chuckle. “I’m guessing you had a good birthday.”

“Yes, because of you!” It had been a miserable one, your mother forgetting all about it and without any of your brothers there to wake you up with hugs. You felt sorry for yourself until you received his gift. One that couldn’t be more meaningful. “I can’t thank you enough. It must have been so expensive, I don’t deserve such kindness.”

He scoffs. “You deserve much more than that.” You take his hand as he extends it and guides you inside the house. Your palm tingles where it’s connected with his. “Now let’s go, the library has missed you.”

It’s a good feeling, being in the library with him again. You had talked and talked about anything that came to mind as he listened attentively before he was the one doing the talking, about how he had finished reading your favorite book. You shared your thoughts about it and you could almost beam on how content you felt.

After some time he decides to sit by the piano, as you continue on the sofa watching as he plays a few notes before settling on a soothing melody. You decide then to speak the words you had been keeping to yourself, too afraid to speak them. “Nakamoto Yuta has asked for my hand.” You merely whisper, the melody suddenly stopping as he looks at you.

His mouths opens and closes as he tries to find a good thing to say. “I — And will you accept it?” Is what he decides on. There’s uncertainty on his voice and that gives you the tiniest amount of hope.

You shrug. “Perhaps.” He must know that you wish you wouldn’t have to. “Well my mother sure hopes I do.”

There’s a moment of silence, a page of the book you had been reading flipping from the wind coming inside but you pay it no mind. Your eyes stayed glued to his face, how he stares at the piano keys with what you think is confusion on his eyes. “What does he have to offer you?” He asks suddenly.

A lot, if you thought about it. He was known to be from a very rich family, and nothing too unpleasant had been said about him to you. Besides that, you would finally be able to leave your parents house and have an illusion of freedom. “He’s a very wealthy man.” Are the words you decide on.

He raises one eyebrow, head shooting up to look at you again “And?”

“Well, I've never met him but people do say he's quite charming.”

“And is that what you wish for? To be married to a man that you've never met before?” You’re the one avoiding his eyes now, the questions making you nervous as if you were being tested.

“It sounds to me that you don't want me to marry him.” You speak in a small voice. He’s speaking as if he doesn't know exactly what you want.

“That is not my choice to make.” He says with a breathy nervous chuckle and it annoys you slightly, because in the end it was. You felt like each day you were waiting for him to finally do it, and as close as it fell now it was shattering.

“But you sure are opinionated on the matter.” Your voice is bitter as you give him a pointed look.

“I am merely advising you.” He defends himself and you huff, rolling your eyes

“I do have to marry someone one day, you know?”

“Yes, you like to remind me quite a lot of that fact.” His voice is almost bitter and it would annoy you even further even it didn’t make you feel slightly bad for all the teasing you had done in the past.

It’s another minute of silence until he starts playing again, the same melody and the butterflies on your stomach urge you to do something, so you get up from the couch, walking slowly until you’re standing in front of the piano. You watch him play quietly, his fingers moving with expert and ease, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates.

He so looks beautiful it makes you want to cry. He’s wearing a simple white shirt, that makes him look almost angelic, and you think you could stay here all day staring at him.

“I would say yes, you know?” You whisper when the song is over, the words just escaping your mouth because you want him to know.

“To what?”

“If you ever proposed to me.” And then he’s looking at you, a soft look on his eyes as he smiles sadly.

“You father would not like that very much.” Is his answer and you laugh lightly at the thought of him asking your father for your hand. He would be absolutely livid.

“He probably wouldn't. But he would come to peace with it eventually.” You like to think so at least.

“I wouldn't.” His voice is a whisper that you can’t quite understand because Hoseok choses that moment to come barging inside the room, interrupting the moment completely as you turn around to stare at him with a shocked expression.

“____.” He exclaims, eyes going wide in surprise to see you after such a long time. “What a pleasure to see you again.” He turns to Yoongi then, a sorry look on his face. “I apologize for interrupting, but I need your assistance with something.”

You feel extremely sad when Yoongi nods, muttering a quick apology to you as he gets up and follows Hoseok to whatever is that he needed. Whatever he had said, it sounded like it would be important and your mind tries to come up with what it could’ve been.

You stay in the library for another hour before you finally leave.

✹

Yoongi is not very good with feelings, the ability of dealing with that had probably gone away alongside his humanity. That considered, the strange and constant reminder of your absence on the back of his head bothers him profoundly, because he misses you. He’s not stubborn enough to not be able to admit that, because he yearns for your presence, your laugh and even the nonsense you speak sometimes.

It’s been a week since your last visit, one that ended too bitterly, and he was dead already, but why did it feel like he would die without you?

Hosek catches on quickly to that, throwing knowing glances his way when he’s sulking around and even worst, speaking on the matter. “You've grown quite fond of her.” He says one day when they are both on Yoongi’s studies, checking finances.

“I have.” Is what Yoongi replies with because there was no point in lying to someone that knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Then why wont you ask for her hand? The poor girl will go crazy if you don't.” That’s the problem with Hoseok, he can’t keep his nose out of things because he cares too much. “She brings you food you don’t even eat, for god’s sake.”

Yoongi lets out a deep sigh. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation, not now that he’s absolutely going crazy without you. “You know why.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Please, she’s head over heels for you. I’m sure that would just be a detail.”

That makes him cringe because they both knew it was far from being a mere detail. The thirst that made his throat burn until he could sink his teeth on whatever animal Hoseok found, was enough proof. “I could hurt her.” He could. It was stupid to say but you were a mere fragile thing, a too giving one and it scared him that if he were ever to tell you the truth, you would just accept it and let him do as he pleased.

“You won't. You haven't hurt me all these years”

“It's different.” He says exasperated. He doesn’t desire Hoseok the way he desires you. Doesn’t think that anyone could smell as sweet as you and certainly doesn't think about sinking his fangs in anyone else but you when the night comes.

“Are you saying that after all these years you still have no self control?” Hoseok gives him a pointed look. “Does that even convince yourself?”

Yoongi lets the parchment he’s holding fall onto the desk, hands coming to his face as he groans. “Let’s say I marry her. And that I don't accidentally drink every single drop of blood on her body.” Just saying it makes him shake a little. She’ll get old and Ill stay the same. I'll watch our children grow old, while I stay the same.”

That’s the worst of all the thoughts that fill his mind. The one where he’ll have to watch you go and he’ll have to live forever with the memories plaguing his mind. It’s inevitable already because he don’t think he will ever be able to forget you now.

“So you're being selfish?” His friend deadpans. “You don't want to suffer the impending torture that is time, so you'll just go around and be miserable?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing that for years.” He wouldn’t say he knows loneliness because Hoseok had been with him for a while now, but he does know solitude, knows closing his walls down so no one can get in.

“Please, you're better than that.” Is the last thing Hoseok says and it leaves him wondering, because he’s sure he isn't, but not in the way he meant.

SUMMER

A summer rain was bound to happen sooner or later. It was light, but not enough that you could go outside, so you and Yoongi were stuck inside his library for the day, him sitting right across from you, a serious look on his face as he read the book of his choice and you pretended to read yours. The music he had put on to play was distracting and so was the intoxicating smell of tangerines that filled the room, coming from the tea Hoseok had prepared for the both of you, even if the weather didn’t really ask for it.

These were the moments you dreaded the most, when it was silent. With your never ending chattering and Yoongi’s gentle way of urging you to talk more, there were no time for your mind to wander with what it wanted. But now, as the only sounds that fills the room being the slow song he had chosen, rain outside and the occasional clink of his teacup, your eyes keep going to him as your heart feels like it will jump out of your body any minute now.

“Are you enjoying your book?” His voice startles you, making your cheeks heat from being caught sneaking glances at him. But still, he doesn’t take his eyes from his book as he asks and it makes you fidget in your seat.

“N-not really.” There was no point in lying, was it? He would see right through it anyway like he always did. “It’s a bit lacking… in passion.”

He raises one eyebrow at that. “Is it now?” You just shrug, moving to get your own teacup so you can sip at it instead of actually replying to the question. It had gone cold from waiting too long and you grimace from the unpleasant taste as Yoongi continues reading his book. The Portrait of a Lady, that you had mentioned the first time you came over and the mere thought of him remembering it, and reading your favorite book was enough to have you suddenly getting up from the couch.

“Have you ever danced, Yoongi?” The change of subject and suddenness of your question and movement makes him finally look at you. You must sound crazy but there’s something making you antsy, maybe the rain, maybe the need to be acknowledged.

He uncrosses his legs, one eyebrow raising curiously at you. “I have, a long time ago. Why?”

You press your lips together, pacing around while you try to decide what exactly it is that you want so desperately. “Was just wondering. Since you enjoy music so much, I thought you would probably enjoy dancing as well.”

That doesn't seem to be invitation enough for him, but still he closes his book, attention fully on you now. “No, it’s not something I enjoy very much.” He says flatly.

It’s a second before the words come out of your mouth in a rush. “Would you teach me?”

He looks genuinely surprised by the request, narrowing his eyes at you, but even though there’s a hint of wariness in his voice, you know he won’t deny you. He never has, every wish you throw his way he provides, and this fact would be almost unsettling if it wasn’t so heart warming. “I could.” His voice is tentative and your heart beat increases in a weird way because of the way he eyes you, as he closes the book and places it slowly on the couch. “Have you never danced before?”

It feels like centuries before he’s standing up and coming slowly to stand as close to you as he can be. You wipe your hands on the sides of your dress, an action that he probably thinks as unladylike, but the tense atmosphere in the room won’t let him say anything about it. “I-I have, with a friend but it was mostly as a joke.” You stutter from the sudden nervousness. It was unlike you to be nervous around anyone, even more around someone that you had grown so comfortable with, but the feelings you hold so close to your heart won't you let you stay still, not when the receiver of said feeling takes a hold of your arm and gently places it on his shoulder.

You take a deep breath, hand probably gripping harder at it than necessary. This is the most you had ever touch each other and the most you had ever been touched by a man, and it’s enough for the butterflies on your stomach to lose their minds. Next, he’s holding your hand in a soft grip and raising it so they stay connected at your sides as he places his other hand by your waist in a tentative hold.

You don’t even notice when he starts swaying in beat with the slow song, guiding you back and forth in the middle of room. His eyes stay glued at you and in an almost hypnotizing way you can’t look away either, letting your body be guided in the gentle motions as the only sounds that fill the room are from the rain and the soft melodies. You watch as he blinks, eyebrows soft and eyes swaying with emotions that you wish to understand profoundly.

It’s far from the dances you had seen on the ball you attended, there’s no intricate moves or spinning around, it’s just the two of you lightly swaying around and holding each other. It’s a sacred moment, you think to yourself, a moment of intimacy that speaks more than anything and for a second you wonder if he knows your affections for him run deeper than the snark comments and teasing.

Suddenly the mere thought of him not knowing how deeply you adore him sends your brain in a frenzy and you have to press yourself closer, your chests touching and your lips almost there. It’s the wrong move to make because his breath hitches and he slowly stops his movements. You part your lips in attempt to apologize but he beats you to it, with a furrow in his eyebrows and an almost pained expression. “Please don’t tempt me.” His voice barely a whisper.

He makes it sound like it you’re doing something wrong and you mirror the furrow on his eyebrows. “I - I don’t understand.” You are practically gaping at him. “It’s been a year, how long must I wait?” You feel like you have waited enough, have let the feelings blossom enough that now they’re ready to be out and about.

“I can't do what you want me to do.” He says and the words feel like a punch to your gut and you suddenly push him away, your arms falling to your side. You look at him with deep confusion in your eyes as your minds goes crazy with thoughts of how you thought his vocal indifference and denial towards marrying you was merely an act, since his action proved the contrary.

“But — I-I have denied proposals for you — because of you.” You stumble around the words, looking around as if the answer to your agony would be anywhere but in the man in front of you.

He sighs exasperatedly, pinching the tip of his voice “I have not given you false hope.” Lies, he’s a liar, that’s what he is. He has given you all the hope he could possibly have, the stares, the gifts, the gentleness of his words.

“Yes you have.” You accuse, voice high and full of emotion. “Will you say that all this time we were merely building a friendship? There's no such a thing as being friends when you look at me the way you do.”

He squints his eyes, starting pacing around like he wants to run away. “And how is that?” How do I look at you?”

“Like…like you’re longing for something.”

“If I am, I’m longing for something that I can't have.” He exclaims, voice going as high as yours but much more pained.

“But you can!”

Your eyes have started to sting and you feel stupid, for crying and for believing him. He stops pacing and moves to stand in front of you again, arms on his front like he’s trying to shield himself from you. “I can’t, ___. Please don't make this harder. Don't be stubborn, for once in your life.” He begs and it only makes it worse that he acts as if you being together would be the worst possible thing to ever have happened.

“God, you are a horrible person. I hate you.” They are just words but you can’t stand being in front of him crying and feeling small, not with his pained expression looking down on you. So you do the smart thing of storming out of the library through the open balcony door. It’s miscalculated because the rain is still pouring and of course he would follow you.

“___. Come on, wait.” He runs behind you as you stomp on the soaked grass, feeling the droplets of water fall on your hair and face. “You can’t leave in the rain —- God.Please will you just stop for a second?”

Your turn suddenly, forcing him to stop right in front of you, as close as you were when you were dancing. You are sure your cheeks are red from the crying and that your hair has fallen flat from the rain, the perfect image of desperation as you look at him with pleading eyes. “Can't you see?” Your voice is merely a whisper. “Can't you see that I adore you? I can't possibly live without now.”

His eyes soften as the rain continues to drain the both of you. “Yes you can. I'm not breathing the air on your lungs for you.”

Your eyes roll at his sad attempt to joke on a moment like this. “Don't patronize me now, Yoongi.” You’re completely wet by now, your dress clinging to your skin and he looks just as wrecked, raindrops falling on his eyelashes. Your next words are muttered out so quietly that he only hears it because he’s so close. “Please. If you don't love me back just say so already”

“You know I do. You have bewitched me, you know that.” He says it like it’s a bittersweet thing, eyes vulnerable out of the sudden. “But I'll only make you suffer, you have heard all they have said about me. And worst, what they have said about you because of me”

“I don't care about rumors, I never did.” Your voice increases now, almost shouting the words at his face “You don’t either, said so yourself, didn’t you? Are you a liar now too? All you have done so far is lie to me.”

He runs his hands through his hair and you notice for a brief moment that he’s shaking. “Listen to me, It's true, it's all true.” His voice is rushed as he grabs you by your forearms. “I am a monster.”

Your eyebrow furrow as deep as they can go as you blink rapidly at him, the rain making it hard to do. “A monster? W-What- What are you saying?” He looks absolutely distressed as you try to make sense of his words. He couldn’t be a monster or any of the things the people have said about him. “How could you be a monster?”

“A vampire. I am a vampire, a blood creature like they have said.” His confession comes out in a hush, like it pains him to say it.

The incredulous laughter you left out of makes him breath deeply. “This makes no sense. I don't understand, you can't possibly be a vam —A vampire.” You huff nervously, this is by far the most complicated conversation you had ever had. Was he lying so you would finally give up? It had to be a lie. “I’ve read books about vampirism before and, well, you have gone out in the sun with me and we have been close and you never tried to - you’ve never tried to drink my blood.” You try to piece the information together in your head, saying it all like it’s obvious and he’s speaking the most nonsense you had ever heard, but his face doesn’t change for one minute.

“Books are not real life, ___.” He drops his arms from where they were holding you and lets them fall by his side, before he’s moving them up to brush his hair out of his face in a nervous motion. “I don't want to scare you, but you have to understand how stupid it would be for you to be with a thing like me. You have something that I desire in the rawest way and to be with you would mean that, perhaps, I wouldn't be able to control myself anymore.”

You blink, the raindrops falling on your cheeks as the realization that his words are true down on you. It’s suddenly like your heart has stopped and began beating again in a frantic speed in a second, your hands shaking on your sides as you gape at him. You shake your head, looking down. How could he be a monster when he has treated you so gently and with care. Your rational side reasons that you should be scared right now, run away and never come back to the house near the lake anymore, never look at Min Yoongi again. But why would you when all this time and he has barely touched you, if he was a blood creature then why hadn't he kill you already?

His eyes continue glued at you, as if trying to read your reaction and when you can’t do anything but stare back with the rain falling on you, he continues .“I-I could kill you, I could. I'm not saying this as a way to make you change your mind, I'm saying it as a fact. I could kill you in the span of time it would take for you to blink, with a snap of your neck.” That makes your heart beat even faster. “God forbid me, but if I were to get a taste — a mere taste of what you taste like, I think I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“But… But you haven’t done anything to me.” Your voice is quiet and small, making him immediately shake his head. “You could have killed me all this time but you didn’t.”

“Please, ___. Please, don’t be dumb. You’re a smart girl.” He sounds pained, but you can’t place if it’s from the thought of you still wanting him or the thought of you running away.

It’s an act of impulse, something you would go crazy if you didn’t do. You grab gently at the front of his soaked shirt until you’re pressing the lightest kiss on his lips, your hands shaky and mind dizzy and tears threatening to fall because he doesn’t kiss you back. He stays still, holding his breath as you try to bring him closer.

All you can feel is the wetness from the rain and the barely there softness of his lips until he finally exhales. It happens quickly, his hands moving to hold you by your cheeks as he kisses you back, lips molding against yours as he too shakes from the agony that was trying to refuse the wishes of his heart.

You know he wants to send you away, tell that this is the stupidest thing you had ever done. But for now, he just kisses you while you get drowned by him and drenched from the rain.

AUTUMN

Things move slowly after the day in the rain. It’s faster then they were before, because now Yoongi will hold your hand while you both read, and sometimes he’ll press light kisses when you have to leave because as he says, he’ll miss you until you can come back again. But they’re slower then what you want and it drives you insane, because you have waited for so long, too long, and the lingering touches and small kisses just make you want him more, a thing that you didn’t even know was possible.

And you understand that it’s like this because he wants it to be. Needs space or else he can do something he’ll regret profoundly, but in your mind that doesn’t sound as bed as he seems to think it would be. But you’re sick of waiting, sick of having to act ladylike and let him lead. You want to take matters in your own hand, so you do the thing you know best, ask him for what you want.

And Yoongi, well, he’s a weak man, especially when it comes to you. Especially when it comes to you begging for him to take you with eyes glossy and a pout on your lips.

It’s the first time you have been in his bed room. His jaw is tense when you come closer, like he’s doing everything in his power not to lose control. Like you should be scared to be near him, but his words say otherwise. “Come here.”

He pats his thigh and you walk the few steps left to be just in front of where he’s sitting on the velvet sofa. You do as he gestures, placing yourself on his lap, one of the thin straps of your dress falling on your arm.

You can’t look at him in the eye now. That and the red shade of a blush on your cheeks are a sharp contradiction to how you almost dropped to your knees begging for this. But wanting it and actually doing it are two very different things, now your inexperience and inadequacy fill your mind.

Suddenly his fingers come in contact with your wrists, drawing small circles on it before he’s moving up your arms, as if in a slow dance that makes you shiver. It’s like every touch is electrified, making your skin tingle.

Your breathing hitches when he reaches your neck, suddenly remembering the secret he shared with you in attempts to change your mind. You weren’t scared then but you certainly are now, he had made sure of it. Made sure that you knew that with a wrong move he could have you lying limp on his bedroom floor, could drain you of your most prized possession.

And you were scared, of course you were. But you were also excited, desperate, out of your mind, you name it. You were going crazy because you wanted him to take you so bad, wanted him to make you his, enough to make you feel your arousal taint your undergarments. You wanted him and if that could bring you pain, then so it be. In your mind there was no pain worse than being neglected your most ardent wish.

His hand stays on your neck for merely a second before he’s placing it on your cheek, finger slowly caressing it as if you were made of porcelain. “I can hear your heart beating.”

“T-That’s a good thing, isn't it?” You attempt to joke and it works, he lets out a short breathy chuckle that makes you smile in return, the nerves on your stomach settling down a bit.

His face comes closer to yours, nose against your cheek as he takes a deep breath, before he’s kissing you there. Then he kisses your jaw, every area of your skin until his lips are hovering yours, merely touching but you can feel the absence of his breathing, a sign that he’s doing everything he can to keep his composure. That’s the only reason why you don’t close the gap between you two.

It takes him a couple more seconds before he’s finally kissing your lips, his bottom lip fitting between yours in one, then two presses before he’s tilting his head to the side to deepen it. You’re far from knowing how to do this well but you enjoy it, the swipes of his tongue on your lips and the hand he has gripping your waist. You think he enjoys it too, with how he sucks on it lightly before he’s letting him tongue dance with yours in languid motions.

It takes you awhile to feel it, but when you do there’s a feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes itself known. His extended fangs drag against your bottom lip, a sign that he’s as affected as you are and it makes a shiver run through your body.

He suddenly stops kissing you, head dropping to your barely covered chest as he takes one deep breath. “I — God, I can smell you.” His voice is pained and it takes you a moment to understand what he’s saying.

You press your thighs close together, because it’s your arousal he can smell, but that doesn’t seem to make it any better. You apologize because you don’t know what else to say.

When he moves his head up again and looks at you, his eyes are darker than before, pupils almost full blown out and if before he looked at you in longing, now he looks at you in complete hunger. “If I wasn't dead already, you would be the death of me.” And it’s funny but you can’t laugh, because he’s kissing you again, harder this time as his hands make their way down your shoulders pushing the straps of your nightgown down until they fall, exposing your breasts to him.

His hand then travels further down, ghosting over your sensitive nipple before he stops kissing you and kisses you there instead. You moan, feeling overwhelmed already by just this, even more when he bites slightly at it, making you arch your back into his touch. He keeps you close with an arm around your back, pressing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and every time you feel the almost not there drag of his fangs, a shiver runs through your body.

You feel your arousal between your legs, sticking to your cotton undergarments in an unpleasant way, and it’s when his hand is moving down, until he palms your center through it that the realization of what it’s about to happen downs on you. His breath hitches when he feels what he could so clearly smell and you blush, eyes closing from embarrassment. “W-What are you doing?” You ask in a tiny voice.

“I must prepare you.” He says and for a second you’re confused to what he means, but then he’s pushing your panties down and letting them rest on your thighs with a little lift of you on his lap. You almost cry when he presses a finger where you are the most sensitivity, pressing on it until you gasp and he looks at you in awe.

It’s a weird, unfamiliar feeling when he dips one finger inside of you and you wonder for a brief second how the hardness you could feel pressed against you would ever fit inside of you. He seems to think the same thing, because when he squeezes in another finger and it barely fits, he’s whispering “God, I can feel you squeezing around me.”

His voice sounds desperate, dirty and your head spins, kissing him again as he works you with his fingers buried deep inside, not satisfied until you’re gasping for air because the knot that was forming on your stomach finally snaps, making your insides feel like they’re melting and like your skin is burning. You can keep the noises in even if you tried, you moan and sigh his name in melodies that he thinks music could never compare to.

You feel like you’re floating. La petit mort, is what they call it, but if you could read his mind you would know he’s the one who feels like he’s dying. When you finally open your eyes he’s staring at you with dark pupils and mouth open, the grip he has on you tightening.

It happens in a blink of an eye. He moves like a man that will soon go crazy, ripping your undergarments and opening his pants in a haste, until he’s pressing himself against you so closely that you think you’ll lose your breath. The wet gasp you let out when his hardness is pressing against you is music to his ears, hands holding your hips and moving them to his liking.

The head of it stretches you in a burning way, making you squeeze your eyes shut as he lets out a wheezy breath, probably the first of the night. “Slow — We’ll go slow.” He reassures you when you can’t stop shaking, but his voice sounds like that’s the last thing he wants to do. He sounds like he’s in pure agony, on the verge of his downfall and all he would like is to pound into you like you were made to take him. In the back of your mind, you think you would like for that too.

You can’t do anything but nod slowly, eyes stained with tears from your orgasm and the wetness of it making it easier for him to slide inside when he pushes your hips down on him. It hurts, but not as much as you thought it would so you help him by moving down delicately, taking hit in until you’re fully seated and connected with him.

It feels full and intimate in a way you had only dreamed of. Your hair touches his and it is like you can’t tell anymore where he ends and where you begin. You think you could cry, content with just staying like this if that was all there was to it but he has other ideas, moving his hips so he can slide in and out of you in barely there motions because it’s a tight fit. “Feel so snug, I think I’ll go crazy.” His voice is pained and he keeps his eyes shut, head on the back of the couch as far as possible from your neck.

It’s after more slow motions that he finally loses it, when your walls start fluttering and you let the tiniest whimpers out and he can’t take it anymore, his hips snapping into yours in quicker and deeper motions. You feel the knot in your stomach again, a constant spark but the high is still far away when he meets his with a deep groan and his face burying itself on your neck. The action only makes you squeeze further where he’s tainting your deepest walls, finally making you his like you have wanted for so long.

When he has calmed his breath and removed himself from inside you, the words you had waited so long to hear from him, are out from your mouth instead. “Will you marry me, Yoongi?” You ask, eyes hopeful as you feel his release down on your thighs.

He lets out a tired laugh, not believing his words. “I think that’s my question to ask, sweetheart.”

It makes you smile. “Yes, but I know you can’t resist when I ask for something.”

And it’s true because next thing you know he’s kissing you, again and again as he mutters the words that finally set the butterflies on your stomach free against your mouth. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, you silly girl.”

Later, when the sun is starting to set and you’re laying on his bed, head resting on his chest as he runs fingers through your hair he whispers his deepest fear in the safety of your embrace. “I am to live forever, but how am I supposed to do so without you by my side.” And he knows you’ll tell him you want to live forever by his side too, because he adds “You have plagued me with your wishes from the moment we met I have given you everything you asked for. But this I cannot give you.”

So you close your eyes and try not to think of a life without him, because this is merely the beginning of what could possibly be eternal. You think instead of how safe you feel on his arms, on how tomorrow you could take a walk near the lake and let him kiss you silly while you lay on the grass. And you think of his teeth finally sinking on your neck, because Min Yoongi is a weak man, and you have him on the palm of your hand.

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #bts scenarios #bts fics #bts smut #bts imagines #i was gonna wait to post this but im so EXCITED i couldnt wait anymore #this is the biggest fic i wrote so far and its very special to me #bc i have been planning it for over 6 months now #well i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did writing it

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crystalangelluna · 4 years ago

Text

Wish It Didn't End Like This.

(Part 1/2)

Daminette angst story. I did not proof read and edit deeply so there might be mistakes. My first shot at an angst story. Comments are highly appreciated. Hope you enjoy (///=time skip)

(Mari's POV)

Damian Wayne...

It has so many definitions...

Stubborn…

Talented…

Smart…

A hero…

Brave…

A brat at first…

But underneath all the barriers he has an amazing heart, that very few get to see…

And I mean VERY few.

Only the super closest people to him had the luxury to see.

I am very glad to have met this amazing person.

If only we had spent more time together…

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The first time I had ever met him, it was as if I was some kind of supervillain. He had this glare that seemed to scare everyone else.

But I wasn’t like everybody else.

(HA try fighting a supervillain since you were 13 and finally beating him at 17, and finding out why the person you trusted the most in your life betrayed you.)

So of course the glare was a simple child’s play.

We didn’t have a simple conversation till a few weeks later.

I went to the park near my apartment and sat at a bench where I sketched design ideas based on the scenery. I brought plagg with me, but he wasn’t a kwami, he was a real black cat. Kwamies could transform into the animal they represent. As I designed, Plagg was curled up near me softly purring.

As I was about to finish the last sketch, Plagg woke up and left. I didn’t mind it, since Plagg tended to do that. But then a dog’s bark followed by a frantic call were heard across the park.

”TITUS!!”

I looked up to see plagg being chased by a Great Dane, followed by Damian.

I ended up leaving everything besides my purse(it has Tikki inside duh) on the bench and joined in the chase.

Once we finally caught them, I picked Plagg off the ground and hugged him, he started purring and acted as if nothing happened.

Sneaky little chaotic cat

I quickly apologized profoundly for the accident, I could tell I was blushing madly

I didn’t like him (Yet), I was just embarrassed …

He did something that surprised me, something that didn’t seem like his persona.

He chuckled, sure it wasn’t like he smiled or anything like that…

But, it made me feel warm inside.

Realizing his mistake he quickly covered it up with,

”Tt, next time be careful, imbecile!”

If I hadn’t been the Famous Superhero, Ladybug/Guardian of the Miraculous, I would have been rather insulted and hurt.

But over the years I have learned to judge people by their eyes.

You see, the eyes aren’t just a useful body part to see,

They are the door to the soul, sure words might be harsh and hurtful, but they might say what they don’t mean.

And clearly, he didn’t mean to call me an imbecile, he hid it so well that I probably couldn’t have noticed it, but of course, I did.

(Damian Wayne, I will break those barriers and I will see who you truly are, and not pretend to be.)

This mission was similar to another one I had, but it was harder.

I loved a good challenge.

Wherever Marinette goes, Ladybug follows.

The bats were relatively surprised that I appeared in their territory, after some explaining and convincing I was finally allowed to work with them.

Before I left, Robin was scowling at me before leaving with the rest, which somehow was familiar…

Wait, Familiar…

Suddenly a flash appeared in my mind of a black-haired boy, with dark emerald eyes, glaring at me the same way.

How did I manage to get this Lucky, oh yeah…

I mentally face palmed this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Conjuring up a portal to my apartment, and de-transformed I just sighed…

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A couple of months later, we grew a little closer, a little.

But hey, at least it is progress am I right.

I didn’t get him to chuckle or anything but I could see a small smile on his face when he thought no one was looking. He was wrong, very wrong.

Knowing he was Robin didn’t make it any easier, especially when he treats both Marinette and Ladybug in different ways. He still doesn’t agree with Ladybug, but he was still wary of me.

I mean who wouldn’t be wary of someone when you are rich, famous, and vigilant. Anyone could use you because of your status.

Bye, now Damian must know that I don’t care about his last name, nor status.

He is just Damian to me, not a Wayne, nor Robin, and not “the Ice prince”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////Ever since I met him he made my life better, sure it took a year for him to warm up to me.

And eventually, I became his best friend besides Jon. When no one was around he let his guard down, every barrier ever built crashed when he was alone with me.

I was so proud of myself, I had won the bet that I made with myself a year ago.

I guess the only reason why Damian is the way he is with others, and the same when I had met him was because he was neglected of the love he needed...

And Damian told me one time when we were alone that ever since he came to live with his father and even now that his father showed his other sons more love than he showed him. It broke my heart even more, but then I developed another mission.

It was to show that I care very much for my best friend and show him that is very much loved.

Everyone in school believed we were dating because of our interactions, of course, we were only best friends. But I had hopes that we would be more than best friends.

I never really planned on telling him how I feel, because I felt that it was more important to just be there for him as his best friend instead of getting a 50% chance rejected and destroying a perfectly good friendship and a 50% chance of getting accepted.

I didn’t want to risk it at all, so I never told him.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Just like how Damian opened up to me about his life (besides his vigilant life and assassin life), I did the same( besides the part about being Ladybug and Guardian) I told him about my life in Paris, the betrayals, the losses, how my life changed when a certain sausage haired liar came to school with her “shiny” life.

Being the best friend he was, he threatened to kill them. I had to chase Damian across my apartment to take the kitchen knife from his hand.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

1 month later…

He tried to keep me hidden from his family, no surprise there. No matter how much he wanted to keep me hidden it would still have happened.

When someone from Gotham Academy took a picture of me and Damian ya know doing secret best friend stuff when we thought no one was looking and posted it on Instagram, word spread out.

Later that day, not having any clue, I was “kidnapped” by 3 strangers. I was just having a simple conversation when someone tossed me over their shoulder and ran away.

I quickly kicked him in the ribs and flipped him.

I looked up to see Damian glaring, and yelling profanities at them. I turned around and saw 3 older men. I recognized who it was immediately, these were the people that complained about.

His brothers, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake.

And I had flipped the oldest. Serves him right for trying to kidnap me.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Everything was great…

Until it wasn’t…

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I invited Damian over to hang out. We were in my room, I was sketching something while he was reading a book.

He suddenly placed his book on the table and left the room to get some food for us. He came back, only without food.

“Why do you have this!!!”

I stopped sketching and looked at what he was talking about. That was when I saw the file that contained the contact information to the leader of the league of assassins, on a paper that is written in Arabic. And information on Damian.

I froze, he wasn’t supposed to see that.

“Marinette answer me, WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS!?!?!?!”

“Damian it isn’t what it lo-” he cut me off before I could finish.

“You work for my mother, don’t you?!?! He looked at me, his eyes were tearing up. I tried to explain the misunderstanding but couldn’t. He beat me to it.

“So everything that happened between us isn’t real, they were all lies.?!?!

“Your one of mother’s spies aren’t you, she ordered you to get close to me to kill me?!?!?!

“Damian I-”

“JUST SHUT UP, I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. I- I HATE YOU!!!” He ran away, ran away from my life. Leaving me in tears.

Alone.

Just like many of the other times in my life. Only this was the worst experience out of all of them.

I tried, I tried to live my life. Away from Paris, Away from my duties as Supreme Guardian in the Tibetan temple. Guess the universe doesn’t want that for me. I looked through the contacts on my phone. And called the person would’ve called sooner or later.

“تاليا الغول ، ��قبل اقتراحك. سأقابلك غدا في قاعدة الدوري.” (Talia Al Ghul, I accept your proposal. I'll meet you tomorrow at the league base.)

I packed my bookbag with clothes, shoes, food, and the miracle box. I grabbed the photo that was on the shelf. It was one photo of me and Damian when we were hanging out at the fair. Tears were filling my eyes and I looked up to see Tikki and Plagg looking at me sadly.

I put the picture back where it was and walked to the door. I had so many memories here and I had to ruin it again.

As of tonight, Marinette is no more. I told myself

For in her place the titles, Ladybug and Guardian stick with her permanently.

No one would miss Marinette anyways.

I put the hood over my head, and left Gotham…

Forever.

Taglist:

@galla02006 @toodaloo-kangaroo

#damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #mlb x dc #ml x dc #marinette x damian #angst

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 4 years ago

Text

Why So Jaded? Chapter 2

And here we go, part 2. In case you missed it. Part 1 AO3 FFN

Chapter 2

A decade can be a long time.

That much time can change a person, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse and sometimes it just makes you grow up, mature you and give you perspective.

A decade ago, Bartholomew Maximillian Pine aka Buddy Pine- had built an empire fueled by his hatred and resentment for Supers and more importantly Mr. Incredible. He had become successful, powerful, on a scale beyond imagination. His creations helped topple governments, weaponize vast armies and made him more money then he could ever hope to spend in a thousand lifetimes. And with Mirage by his side, he had it all at the relatively young age age of 21.

A decade ago, Violet Parr was coming to terms with her powers, was coming into her own and finding her footing in life. She was learning to bear the load that all Supers carry.

But a decade can be a long time.

In a decade, you can see the empire you built be turned against you in a flash before it's dismantled into pieces that can never be put back together again and the people who you thought you could trust turn on you then leave you and realize their own agendas before you found yourself trying to start over and rebuild with some of the pieces you had managed to scrape together. No small feat and one made harder by extensive injuries, in not just a physical sense, but a mental and emotional and physiological sense as you attempt to rebuild yourself just as much as you rebuild your empire. Letting go of old grudges and hate in an effort to accept change and the present in order to have a future. And that is where Buddy Pine had currently found himself.

And a decade can be a long time.

In a decade you can see things that make you question yourself, your morals, your loyalties, your career and sense of right and wrong. Make you resent the burden placed on you by your parents, by your siblings and peers, your superiors, by everyone around you, and worse, make you resent the very ones who put that burden there. You got to see first hand how the world was rarely black and white and everything was a shade of gray and how even when you want to do the right thing and try to do the right thing, no good deed goes unpunished. You're struck and reminded over and over again by how profoundly fickle it all was. And how you can rise to popularity one moment and fall the next, like the waves of the sea, rising and falling and rising again as cycles began anew and how even the most altruistic super has their price. And more importantly, what yours was. You learned who your true friends were, as well as your enemies. And most importantly that the only one you could truly count on was yourself when you get pushed past your breaking point several times over and who you needed to pull you back from the edge over and over again. You become jaded and disillusioned yet worldly and discerning from your experiences and recognize patterns and cycles remarkably well. When you see enough shit go down and get covered up and how when people are wealthy and powerful enough, or hell, even talented, famous or important enough they can get away with literal murder if not atrocities that would make God himself shudder. You learn that justice was a joke but vengeance was attainable if not valid and very understandable, if not sympathetically so. Which can sadly- make you even more valuable and sought after and you become the best at what you do, even when you had no intention of being so. Until you realized you didn't have to play by anyone's rules except your own, in fact, you didn't have to play their little game at all and sometimes the smartest thing was to walk away when you had had enough and your sense of self preservation was the biggest instinct you cultivated in yourself and was sometimes the only thing that kept you alive.

That's where Violet found herself now. Not necessarily at a crossroads, but simply a spot on a map. She had been pulled back into this Super world a little over a year ago but it was supposed to be her last job. It was supposed to be an easy one, a babysitter post for a genius, billionaire playboy that had taken Buddy's place in the weaponized technology field. Only the big difference was Buddy did this all on his own, while her current employer had bought some of the pieces of Buddy's empire and was very much at the powers that be- beckon call and he was a master at catering to all of them so that he had no governmental resistance or interference world wide. So that the only ones in his way was his competition in his various markets from technology, science, medicine and most lucratively- weapons and while his ego was huge, it wasn't as haughty as Buddy's had been and if Violet had placed a bet, she would say he was a low grade Super himself, only his power was the charm and disarm anyone and gain their trust and help them feel safe so they turned vulnerable and honest and even she was not completely immune to him and his powers. It's how he learned who her true identity was and was able to get to know the real her as well as he did, or more importantly, as well as he thought he did. But for every take, there is a give because she in turn, got to learn more about him than anyone else did and thus, bred their closeness that they both got to enjoy and Phillip had sworn on his life and the lives of his family, that he would never betray her as long as she never betrayed him.

Phillip Edward Sebastian the Fifth was a European Aristobrat who had turned his family's modest fortune but grand history to his absolute advantage and with smart investing and playing the stock market, he had used that modest fortune to turn it into unimaginable wealth and power and was now on the cutting edge of all things weapons, electronics, medicine and far beyond and he had asked for Violet in particular because of her history with espionage, corporate and otherwise and the like. He was willing to pay her 15 times more for her services as his handler than he had offered anyone else and in just the short year she had been working with him, she had risen through the ranks, and was now not just as his right hand woman and personal assistant and she was a one woman security detail who he trusted with his life, his privacy, his confidence and confidentiality because of her skillset and ability. And once her own bank accounts swelled to the point that she used her former mentor's own financial staff to make sure that even in the worst case scenarios, her safety nets had safety nets and she had back up plans for her back up plans and contingency plans for her contingency plans several layers deep and learned to buy stocks in what he bought and sold what he sold on her own since he never hid that information from her and through that alone, she was one of the more independently wealthy Superheroes and she ensured that not just herself but her family would be safe and taken care of, which, in the grand scheme of things, was all she ever wanted and cared about. So she was happy and content, for now. That's why Violet could easily retire after this job. Plus she still collected her super hero paycheck. She wasn't the only one getting two paychecks for the same work, if not multiple checks.

And Phillip had always been the ideal employer, sure he had his own trust issues and paranoia, not to mention, his own daredevil antics and recklessness. But he respected her boundaries because she respected his and their relationship worked as beautifully and seamlessly as it did because they respected each other and Phillip treated her better than he treated everyone else because he knew that Violet, ultimately- didn't want or need him or his money or power and didn't ask too many questions because she didn't need to know the answers and kept her personal life very separated from her work life and didn't judge and kept her opinions to herself as closely as she kept her head and her wits. Which were all things he respected, admired and even adored and their relationship even blossomed enough to include certain "benefits" and Violet was the only one who could use Phillip as her personal fuck toy without the hassle and mess of a committed, monogamous romantic relationship and that kind of emotional entanglements even though Phillip still held out hope that at the end of her "servitude" she would stay with him because he had grown to rely so much on her and it would take a team of a hundred people to do what she did for him and do it as flawlessly as she did.

Before this job, Violet had disappeared in the far east- Hong Kong specifically, with a large city of over seven million, it was easy to disappear into but easy enough to spot agents from a mile away. She figured her superiors spent at least a million dollars trying to find her and once they did, they made her an offer she couldn't refuse and found, and named, and gave- her price, as their most highly sought after and paid agent. She was 24 now and would retire in just two more years at the age of 26 into a very comfortable life as a multimillionaire. But even she had to admit, the urge to do Super work had been getting to her while she had disappeared before The Agency had tracked her down since she had been 'in the wind' for over a year after a particularly brutal assignment gone to shit. But saving people and being a hero, even an invisible one, was an itch that most Supers, even when under ban, was impossible not to scratch. Her father was living proof of that. But she had learned from her parent's mistakes. She had learned to be careful. But being careful and playing it safe, while inherently easy for her, was getting mundane. She had taken up a few hobbies, learned a few languages along with some invaluable skills so that she could, in theory, go anywhere and support herself and blend in with any crowd and she was lucky that while she was in Phillip’s employment, she could still do a few hero jobs of her choice on the side and Phillip’s technology had made those jobs a breeze. But she was smart enough to not become dependent on any of the technology provided to her, either by The Agency or Phillip.

Invisigirl tapped on a screen as she flew her secret spy plane back to Spain to contact her employer, Mr. Phillip Sebastian.

"Do you have a report Vi?" Phillip asked.

"Yes, Mr. Pine himself has taken the nanochip, just like you predicted and is on multiple cameras doing so, he took both baits so I'm now en-route to you." Violet answered as she took off her mask and tied her hair up, revealing flawless makeup under the mask as her lipstick changed from an ultra violet to match her suit to a soft dusty rose on her pouty lips.

"What are the chances that he will follow?" Phillip furthered.

"At this point, medium to high." Violet estimated with a shrug as the plane achieved the proper altitude for a transatlantic flight.

"Excellent. Well we have him dead to rights, so he's as good as ours anyway." Phillip grinned victoriously as he rewatched the feed.

"So hopefully that objective can be fulfilled sooner than later," Violet assumed.

"We will talk about that when you get back, see you in a few hours." He placated.

"Understood," Violet said as she closed the channel since the plane was on auto pilot. She wanted to get changed into civilian attire and hopefully get a chance to relax and possibly take a nap before she would have to play babysitter again as she popped a few pills of very high level painkillers that would make Oxycodone look like children's Tylenol.

Meanwhile Buddy had made his escape and had arrived back at his compound, a different island this time since the 'authorities' literally blew up the last one. But while Buddy was getting a bit desperate, he wasn't stupid. He installed the nanochip into an ordinary laptop that wasn't connected in any way to the internet in case there was some kind of signal embedded. Fifteen seconds later he found himself staring at a melting piece of trash on fire before he put the fire out.

"And that's why we don't just hook things up into the system." He muttered aloud as he retrieved the other nano chip, the one that was on the left, he had taken both, just in case she was leading him astray. He picked up the dead computer with thick work gloves and simply dumped it into the trash and retrieved another, turning it on and repeating the process. This time, it worked perfectly.

"Well, it appears you didn't steer me wrong, this time," he mused as he retrieved the nanochip and put it into his system. Since the 'incident' aka him almost being completely shredded by a jet engine, his ability to create new technology had been hindered greatly. But he could reverse engineer anything and make it better, and that was his intention now. Once he had all the specs down it would be difficult to put the nanochip back along with another dummy one but not impossible.

Except when he came back a week later, it was a trap. The moment he opened that safe, there were more guards on him than he could count coming almost out of nowhere. He was immediately detained in a holding cell in the basement of the building and stripped of all his gear but thankfully they still let him keep his original clothes on.

Buddy wondered who would be coming, would it be the local police? The FBI? The CIA? He ended up waiting a few days when Phillip Sebastian came in himself.

"Good morning Mr. Bartholomew Maximillian Pine, I understand that you like to go by "Buddy" less formal." Phillip greeted formally with a smug smirk on his handsome face.

"Good morning Mr. Sebastian," Buddy mirrored warily as he looked down to see the hairs on his arm raise as if the static electricity in the room was getting charged as he wondered if Invisigirl was with Phillip, in fact he would bet on it as he glanced at the space around Phillip to see if he could see any distortions and he couldn't see any but he could sense her the way he could sense Mirage in the past, the way she had taught him to anyway, and realized Invisigirl was so close to him, he could reach out and touch her if he tried but he got the sense she had an invisible weapon targeted at his head and knew that if he attempted to, he'd be dead by the time he made contact with her. His heart still stung at Mirage's betrayal which had hurt him the worst and when he was seen how she married some other billionaire playboy, it had dumped his ass into one of the worst depressions of his life and almost completely broke him, but the lessons she taught him were invaluable and he was finding himself grateful for them right in this moment.

"Mr. Pine, you are either really smart or really stupid, you had the nanochip, why didn't you just keep it? Why risk putting it back?" Phillip inquired curiously.

"I need a lawyer," Buddy answered firmly.

"Why? You're not under arrest. The authorities haven't been called, however if you don't cooperate with me I will be forced to contact them but for now, let's leave them out of this." Phillip said dismissively.

"What do you want?" Buddy asked wearily.

"I want you to work for me, not against me." Philip answered simply.

"I refuse to work for anyone but myself." Buddy defied.

"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider? You would have your own lab and assistants and an unlimited budget, you could set your own hours and have some say so in your own salary and have access to all the compounds and technology you could ever dream of." Phillip proposed. "You would even earn a high percentage of all sales of whatever you create in collaboration with SEB Enterprises, you'll even get press for IRize and all your other little corporations, shells or no and more opportunities for your collaboration with me and my company and all of my associates and other collaborators, of which we share a surprising amount of them." Phillip generously offered.

"So what's the catch?" Buddy asked with a subtle tilt of his head in Invisigirl's direction and just barely registered the feel of his hair brush up against something. She was right next to him and his gut feeling told him she had a weapon was pointed at his head as he felt her withdraw just a little to keep from getting too close.

"You will have to work for me for a minimum of 3 years. You will stay on campus at all times unless accompanied by a security detail and you will be monitored at all times in all things." Phillip informed him solemnly. "So it's either this or some high security super prison for 20-life. Because the evidence against you is pretty damning." Phillip specified.

"Can you give me some time to think it over?" Buddy inquired.

"Of course, take all the time you need, simply knock on the door when you've made a decision." Phillip replied as he got up and left the room as Buddy watched the hairs on his forearms lay back down before another meal was delivered to him, this time it was breakfast. At least Phillip knew how to treat a guest. Even a detained one, because Buddy wasn't in shackles and was being fed decent food at least and his little one room cell, while bare, was surprisingly comfortable.

Three hours later Buddy knocked on the door and a few minutes later Phillip came in, ready to hear his answer.

"I'll do it, however I have a few conditions of my own." Buddy started and was pleased to see Phillip nod.

"I want everything in writing, I want my criminal activity erased." Buddy began.

"Of course, my lawyers are writing our contract up as we speak and any and all evidence against you and IRise will be destroyed and dissolved within the hour. Anything else?" Phillip reassured him.

"I will only work for you for two years, no more," Buddy specified.

"Five years then because you want to negotiate the time frame. Or that 20-life in a super max prison." Phillip countered.

"Ok fine, three years it is." Buddy huffed.

"Agreed." Phillip said as he held out his hand for a handshake. Buddy took it and shook firmly as he could have sworn he heard a huff nearby. The two left the room and walked to an elevator where a secretary was waiting for them. Her hair up in a bun and her gray business jacket accentuated her tulip skirt with patterned hose and killer heels along with a pair of glasses that helped her see things most eyes could not as she used her stylus like a pen.

"Everything is ready Mr. Sebastian, the notary is already in conference room 12A." She informed him as she continued to work on an electronic pad diligently.

"Excellent, thank you Ms. Parr," Phillip replied in thanks before turning to Buddy. "Mr. Pine, I believe you already know my colleague and associate Miss Violet Parr." Phillip gestured before getting on the elevator that opened once they approached.

Buddy had to do a double take, he hadn't recognized her, she was standing right in front of him and she might as well have been invisible at first. However, now that he really looked at her and took notice, she was stunning. Like just...knock out gorgeous, should have been a model herself kind of beautiful. Even she could effortlessly rock the sexy assistant look but now that he saw her, he couldn't quite make himself look away. She was gorgeous even with glasses and just as breathtaking out of her suit as she had been in it and most likely, just as lethal. And just like that, those butterflies were back in his stomach, fluttering away.

"Yes, we are already too well acquainted," Violet answered as she stepped on the elevator herself, standing on one side of Phillip, using him like a shield between her and Buddy as she continued to work on her tablet and actively ignored him.

"Well I don't know about that," Buddy answered with a smirk before he could feel static electricity instantly build within the elevator as the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose again. Ha, he got her tell.

"Easy," Phillip warned Violet, his tone surprisingly gentle. Violet exhaled in a huff and Buddy felt static electricity lull, the rest of the ride was in silence, the only sound, their breathing and the dinging of the elevator. Buddy noticed her breathing was noticeably huffy and almost labored while Phillip's was calm and even until they reached the twelfth floor before Violet was the first to cross the threshold before the doors fully opened, walking quickly while Phillip walked in tandem with Buddy as Phillip subtly studied Buddy's reactions to Violet.

Violet led the way to the conference room, she tapped her ID card against a reader and the door opened, revealing a notary and three lawyers, one of them being Buddy’s. All sitting at the table in the middle of the room with stacks of paperwork around them as Buddy was allowed to have some private council with his own lawyer who basically confirmed that it was either this or super max prison before they sat down to negotiate more terms of the contract.

Buddy wasn't an idiot, he read each and every single line on those contracts before signing them.

And it took four hours, a bottle of scotch, lunch and a whole variety of snack and dessert trays.

Violet looked like she wanted to die of boredom despite playing a game on her tablet for most of it and couldn't get out of there fast enough when it was all over, signed and notarized by everyone. Another assistant came to escort Buddy to his new 'apartment' which had already been filled with his things that were taken from his new compound while Phillip and Violet retreated to Phillips office.

"Well I am so glad that didn't take too long," Violet drawled sarcastically as she crashed on the comfy couch in his office after kicking her heels off. Phillip chuckled as he tossed her a bottle of water from his mini fridge in his desk and smiled when she caught it with ease.

"He's still smart, he wanted to make sure I wasn't taking him for a complete fool," Phillip countered as he took a long pull from his own water bottle as he idly watched her stretch and relax as she reclined on his couch in a very unladylike pose, with her feet up on the arm of the couch. But he loved the fact that she felt so comfortable around him and could just be herself rather than the super secret agent she felt she had to play with him. She could just be when she was alone with him and he liked it that way. No pretenses or anything like that.

"Do you think he'll honor the contract? Or do you think he'll run the first chance he gets?" Violet inquired.

"Oh I think as long as you're around, he'll stay right here. He looked at you at least a dozen times an hour, every move you made, he tried to catch." Phillip began as he glanced at Violet who had rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Speaking of which, I have a new assignment for you, I want you to be the liaison between him and I until the end of your contract." Phillip proposed.

"Hell no," Violet immediately spat as she gave him a dirty glare.

"Oh come on, all that means is you see him once a day for only a few minutes all the days we're stateside. Make sure he has everything he needs to keep him focused and relay messages back and forth," Phillip specified.

"That's what email is for." Violet retorted.

"But email is so impersonal," Phillip playfully argued in a mock complaint.

"That's exactly it, I don't want to have to deal with him any more than I absolutely have to. He did try to kill me as a child. What kind of monster purposefully kills kids? I'll tell you. Him. He's that monster. He tried to kill me, my family and kidnap Jack..," She began to go into a seething rant.

"And take over the world, yeah I know, I was there- but, that was a lifetime ago, clearly everyone involved has changed. I mean you saw him, the man is just one failed attempt away from completely imploding. And the fact that he was desperate enough to steal from me himself says a lot." He reminded her, keeping her from going into her full blown rant because he didn't want to rearrange his office...again.

"I still don't understand why he would stoop that low," Violet admitted as she thought that over again.

"I think he lost a spark ," Phillip conjectured. Violet raised a curious brow at his choice of words. "Writers and artists have muses, engineers have sparks." Phillip explained as he came over and sat on the couch with her before he nestled her head into his lap so she could look up at him.

"But if he's lost his spark, he's no good to you, it's been a decade, surely if he was going to get his 'spark ' back, don't you think he would have gotten it back by now?" Violet questioned.

"He's searching for it, pretty hard, I've been keeping him under surveillance for the last several years once he was recognized by my software. A man can only tinker so long." Phillip soothed as he began to pet her head to calm her down further.

"So he's either going to find it with you or die trying," Violet guessed.

"Exactly, besides, I know your past with him makes this especially hard and I am so proud of you for doing your best to put that aside and try to be professional and not kill him where he stands right now. But it's you who will have the last word in the matter. It's you who will get to decide if he lives or dies after his contract is up and inherit everything he has when we're done with him. Why do you think that contract included you as his heir apparent? Because once he dies, you and your family will get due recompense for everything he's done, he owes you and your family that much at least. You can put your big girl panties on and suck it up for two years. Then you get to spend that third year devising all the ways you want to torture him to death if you still want him dead after." Phillip soothed her as he started to pet her head, letting his own super ability lull her into a peaceful state, which worked extra strongly when he was able to touch her as she rolled over and faced him and took a deep, cleansing breath and mulled it over as she simply closed her eyes and soaked up this attention from him before she seemed to come to her own decision.

"You know, if I didn't know any better I would think you were an evil mastermind," Violet teased with a smug grin as she opened her eyes and tilted her head to look up at him.

"Hey now. Keep it to yourself, Edna hasn't finished my super villain suit yet," Phillip countered teasingly, causing Violet to glare at him, unimpressed by that dig. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Phillip placated with his hands up in defeat.

"You better be, ass," Violet grumbled.

"So will you take the job or not?" Phillip asked.

"You're going to have to up my salary again, make it worth my while." Violet insisted.

"I'll match his salary 200% as your bonus salary as long as both of you are in my employment- for the "suffering" of having to deal with him and be our liaison. And to really sweeten it, how about….oh, how about I give you a percentage of whatever he touches." Phillip offered.

"Twenty percent," Violet started.

"Ouch, no, I'm thinking 10 at the most," Phillip frowned.

"Fine, fifteen, same as Mr. Pine's percentage." Violet rebutted firmly.

"Deal," Phillip agreed. "And you start now," Phillip stipulated as he offered his hand for a shake and by now Violet knew that his handshake was as good as any contract, even one written in blood before he leaned down and kissed her sweetly.

"Fine," Violet caved before gave his gut a light playful punch that was barely a tap which made him recoil and hold his gut like she had really sucker punched him as his face scrunched up in pain which caused her to laugh which in turn made him beam a proud smile at her.

"And I want it in writing by the time I get back." Violet insisted.

"Of course," He nodded in agreement.

"And you still owe me dinner because lunch sucked." Violet reminded him as she slipped back into her heels before going down to a different lab and got the appropriate hardware for Buddy and made her way to Buddy's floor, using her key card to get to the floor, since his floor wasn’t shown on the elevator and she had to press two floors and press her keycard to the reader to get to it. She thought it was ridiculous that he would have more than a bed and a lab let alone an entire floor full of equipment and an apartment that rivaled most penthouses but Phillip wanted to give Buddy every opportunity to succeed by making sure he stayed comfortable.

She came into the lab to see him already at work. She knocked on a countertop to make her presence known so as not to startle him.

"How come you couldn't do that before?" Buddy asked wryly as he looked over at her as he was still putting things away in the lab section of the floor.

"Because you weren't supposed to know I was there. We have a few details we need to discus Mr. Pine." Violet began as she watched him pause and turn to face her to give her his complete attention before he started walking towards her and joined her at the island.

"First, you are never to address me as anything other than Ms. Parr and you will always conduct yourself in the utmost professional manner when dealing with me or any other employee, partner or associate of SEB Industries. I am your liaison to Mr. Sebastian himself so if there anything in particular that you need regarding your living and your work you can tell me. These are yours, your phone has been cloned into this before it was put to sleep, you can retrieve it once your contract is up." Violet stated as she held up the phone and the tablet before putting them down on the counter and sliding them towards him. "My number is under speed dial one and is only supposed to be used in emergencies and for vital business needs and inquires during reasonable business hours. And I swear to God if I get any flirtation from you or heaven forbid dick pics, I will personally cut your dick off and shove it down your throat and watch you choke on it before I throw your body into another jet engine turbine and feed your remains to the rats in the subway and then inherit everything you have and sell it off at auction to the highest bidder. Any information mining or manipulations by you will be met with the same treatment. Is that understood?" Violet specified as her gaze bored through him with a look that if it could kill, he would have been dead already.

"Yes Ma'am." Buddy nodded with a gulp.

"Now, while at SEB Industries we suggest little to no contact with the outside world other than of course the contact with various associates and colleagues to complete projects. However SEB does understand that there are certain 'needs' that only the outside world can satisfy." Violet explained as she cleared her throat and fought not to shudder and gag when she said 'needs'. "And those will be handled by the appropriate liaison which is not me. And that proper liaison is Leslie, she's on speed dial 2 who will also take care of anything outside of the normal business hours. Now, is there anything in particular you need or want at this time? Perhaps dinner?" She offered as she noticed the time.

"Dinner sounds great, as long as you will eat it with me," Buddy answered hopefully but she narrowed her eyes as he felt the static electricity build up again for a moment before she simply took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately I have prior engagements, but you do have access to a full kitchen in the apartment side of this floor that should be well stocked, and if it is lacking feel free to create a grocery list and I will have an assistant fulfill it. We also allow take out to be delivered although anything you receive will be subjected to inspection and scans. But there is a drawer next to your fridge full of menus of all the restaurants who deliver here or you could order something online. Do you understand the terms I have dictated?" She explained as explicitly as she could and as calmly and as professionally as she could because she had to swallow all the anger and rage she felt towards him down for now because it was her job. But if he dared cross the line, she had no qualms about ending him where he stood.

"Yes," Buddy confirmed with a nod.

"Do you have any questions?" Violet obligatorily asked.

"Are you free for dinner tomorrow?" Buddy asked before he saw her slip her metaphoric mask on more tightly.

"No. Good day Mr. Pine, good luck with your work," Violet coldly replied before turning and leaving her heels clicking in her wake.

Buddy smirked and went back to work. His own plan was working well.

#Why So Jaded #Why So Jaded Chapter 2 #Synlet #Buddy Pine #Violet Parr #Corporate espionage AU #Modern AU #Bartholomew Pine

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zacharybosch · 5 years ago

Text

Playing Dead - chapter 7 (final)

here we are, at the end of the road. it's been real.

optional end credits music: The Big Unknown by Sade, or The Spoils by Massive Attack

chapter 1: tumblr / ao3

chapter 2: tumblr / ao3

chapter 3: tumblr / ao3

chapter 4: tumblr / ao3

chapter 5: tumblr / ao3

chapter 6: tumblr / ao3

read chapter 7 of Playing Dead below or on ao3!

Bev found sleeping on a train to be near impossible, despite the exhaustion she felt in every bone and muscle of her body. Miriam seemed to have no such troubles, but perhaps it was just that she’d pushed herself to the limit and had no option but to immediately pass out in their little cabin. The carriage rocked back and forth as the train hurtled along the tracks and through the night, and coupled with the frantic whir of Bev’s thoughts, she knew that she was not going to get any rest.

She got up and went to sit in the tiny chair by the window. They would be arriving in Avignon tomorrow. Miriam had identified it as one of a few likely stopping points for Will and Hannibal on their race out of Italy. Bev didn’t know how she had come to this conclusion, and she didn’t want to know. It was as if they’d never left home, Miriam with her nose buried in her laptop and Bev stuck on the outside looking in. She no longer had the strength to try and talk Miriam out of it. She knew in her heart that they were breaking apart at the seams. All she could do was sit and wait to see if they would make it to Avignon in one piece.

It quickly became too much to be shut up in the tiny cabin with only her own anxious thoughts for company, so Bev left the cabin as quietly as she could and headed for the back of the train. There was a small balcony there, open to the air and deserted at this hour, and Bev breathed deeply as she stepped out onto it. The tendrils of her hair were immediately picked up by the wind, and for a long moment she just stood there, eyes closed, letting the coolness of the night sink into her skin.

The door behind her clicked gently, and then Will was standing with her on the balcony.

Bev waited for the cold, sick feeling to arrive, or the boiling anger, or the impetus to fight or flee. But there was nothing left for her to feel beyond the hollowness of exhaustion.

“Have you come to kill us?” she asked.

“I thought about it,” Will said. “I was of two minds walking through the train. Trying to decide if it would be a kindness.”

“Did you come to a conclusion?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to die, Beverly?” There was no threat in Will’s voice, just a quiet curiosity. It was almost worse, somehow.

“No, I-- I don’t want to die. But sometimes I wish I was already dead.”

“I’ll take it away, if you ask me to.”

Bev turned from Will to lean her elbows against the railing, and stared out into the dark. “Why didn’t you do it when Miriam first asked? You could’ve saved us all so much pain.”

Will moved to lean next her, careful inches between them. “I thought she was my friend, and she thought I was a particularly clever pet. I felt betrayed by her. But I suppose I wasn’t thinking too clearly about a lot of things at that point in time.”

“Almost sounds like human feelings,” Bev said, with a humourless half-smile.

“Almost,” Will agreed.

They stood in silence for a while, side by side, as the train bore them on through the night. Bev wondered how she had never noticed before that Will looked so profoundly un-human. It was easy to blend him in with everyone else when he was in a crowd, when she could subconsciously take their human characteristics and apply them to Will, give him warm skin and a breathing chest and reflexive little twitches. Now, on the balcony in the middle of the night, he looked like a marble statue that had been standing out there for centuries.

“I really hoped this could be it, you know. That clean break that Miriam kept talking about. She was so deep inside her own head, suffocating… If we could just cut through all the bullshit and let her breathe again…” Bev picked at a slim splinter of wood on the railing, and flicked it out into the night. “Guess I misjudged.”

“I’ve found that clean breaks rarely live up to the hopes of the people pursuing them. No matter how brutally you cut it out, you will always carry a piece of trauma with you. Miriam did a good job of pretending like she was past it.”

“I wish she hadn’t,” Bev said. “How did Hannibal react? When you first told him what you are.”

Will stared at the train tracks, at the bright flash of metal quickly disappearing into the dark. “He blinked, twice. Then he just accepted it.”

“Must’ve been nice.”

“Yeah. It was.”

Beverly was silent for a long while. She was lovely in the moonlight, her dark hair tangling in the wind and her skin touched with the blue glow of the stars. Will could see it easily enough, what could’ve been were he the human that Beverly had believed in: a friendship, stuttering at first but becoming more comfortable by the day; pancakes and bacon at an early-morning diner, case files spread over the table, black coffee and black humour to help wake them up; cookouts in the summertime, and maybe a drunken kiss, once, twice, but nothing would really come of it, and he would encourage her to pursue Miriam because he knows they would be good together.

But it was someone else’s life. Impossible to hold on to, unthinkable to have.

“Is there any way forward?” Beverly asked.

“You could let us stay dead. We would disappear into the world somewhere, and we wouldn’t try to find you. We could avoid America entirely, until you’ve both passed on from this life. It can be easy.”

“It’s never easy.”

“No, it’s not.” Will covered Beverly’s hand with his own. It was the first time they’d ever touched, and she flinched. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“You and Hannibal have sucked so much of the joy out of my life. You take and take from everyone around you whether you mean to or not. Your presence is like a black hole. I feel so hollow.” She turned her hand in Will’s grip, and clasped his fingers with her own. “Make it stop now. Please.”

Will drew Beverly into his arms. He had given up apologising a long time ago, and couldn’t fathom it now as something that he might ever reasonably do again, but he understood in that moment what moved people to apologise over and over as they repeated the same mistakes throughout their lives. For such short-lived creatures, words were important; the world was so harsh, and humans were so tender and small. There was no time between birth and death for them to thicken their skin. Apologies were all they had.

They remained there, on the dark little balcony at the back of the train, for a long time. Eventually Bev took Will’s hand again, and led him back inside the train.

In the cabin, Miriam stirred in her sleep, the spill of her hair shifting pale across the pillow. Will perched gently on the edge of her bunk, and laid a cool hand on her cheek.

“Miriam,” he whispered, soft as anything.

She made a small irritated noise, and her brow creased slightly, and then her eyes fluttered halfway open. “Will?” she said, still mostly asleep.

“Yes. You’re having a dream, Miriam. Can you open your eyes further?”

“I don’t… I’m asleep…”

“Yes, you are. But you can open your eyes. Try it.” Miriam’s eyelids were heavy and kept falling shut, until eventually she managed to open them and keep them open. Her eyes were unfocused and wandering, but then Will delicately tilted her head and caught her gaze with his own, and her eyes didn’t stray any further. “That’s good. You’re still asleep, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Miriam said, and her voice was small and far away.

“I’ve come to say goodbye. And… to say thank you, for taking care of me, in the best way you were able. Keep your eyes on me, now.”

Will leaned very close to Miriam’s face, speaking softly against her skin for what felt like an eternity. And then it was done, and her eyes drifted closed, and she turned beneath the sheets and slept on.

Will turned to Bev, who was sitting on the tiny armchair that was the only other seat in the cabin. She’d raised the blind to gaze out of the small window at the dark rushing trees, not wanting to see Will do whatever it was that he had to do.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Bev just nodded. Will came to stand before her, and tilted her head just as he had with Miriam.

“Will it hurt?” Bev asked, and felt immediately foolish for doing so.

Will smiled. “No. There’s no pain, and it will be over very quickly.” He knelt down, so his eyeline was level with Beverly’s, and then began to speak in a low, hypnotic tone. “You’re on a train, Beverly, heading out of Italy. You’re on holiday with your girlfriend. You both work so hard, and you needed a break…”

Quietly, carefully, Will rewrote Beverly’s life.

There was a brief disturbance in the air, as if someone had suddenly left the room, and Bev looked up from her aimless gaze through the window. She hadn’t realised how difficult it would be to sleep on a train, the constant rocking and rumbling of the wheels jolting her awake so many times throughout the night. Miriam seemed to have no problem with it; she was sound asleep, fingers curling in contentment against the sheets.

Bev sighed and got up to cross the small cabin. If she was going to be awake, she might as well be awake in bed instead of awake in a small and not-particularly-comfortable chair. She climbed carefully beneath the sheets of the narrow bunk, and drew Miriam close with an arm around her waist. They would arrive in Avignon tomorrow. Bev thought of the ancient city streets she wanted to walk down, the lazy flow of the Rhône glittering in the sunlight, and the café where they might stop and drink wine at lunchtime. It was a good thought, and she found herself smiling as she slipped imperceptibly into sleep.

***

Several carriages along, Will returned to his own cabin.

“It’s done?” Hannibal asked. He was sitting in almost exactly the same position that Beverly had been, in the tiny chair by the tiny window, moonlight spilling across his face just as it had spilled across hers.

“It’s done,” Will said.

“Then we’re free to move onwards as we see fit.”

“For the most part. I think it would be prudent to avoid America for a while.”

Hannibal smiled, eyes and teeth flashing in the dark. “As you say. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #vampire au #my fic

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qqueenofhades · 6 years ago

Note

I know you dont watch GoT anymore. And that Braime and Sansa are your favorites. But I know you've read the books and are obviously really interested in the story. And I was just wondering what your thoughts are on the whole Jon killing Dany thing? Is that something you can see happening in the books? And if it is do you think it'd be in the same context as the show did it?

Ahaha, welp. Just jumping right in there.

(Also, you never have to apologise for asking GOT/ASOIAF questions. I obviously have been a fan for 16 years and wrote fuckin’ TNR with its half-million-plus words, so I clearly do have Thoughts on the story/characters, especially with the bag of lukewarm cat vomit that was s8 of the show.)

I already answered this ask discussing how much I hated the Mad Queen Dany thing, both because a) it was horrifically badly handled and b) these mediocre misogynist douchegobblers have managed to outdo themselves in terms of the gross messages they’ve sent about women, after 8 seasons of that. (These are the same people who made Sansa say that she was grateful for her rapes and who claimed that Dany’s turn into madness was foreshadowed by her having a “chilly” reaction to the death of her abuser, Viserys, in s1, so…. make of that what you will.) I’m not saying that it was narratively impossible, especially since GRRM has been toying with the same thing in the books and has more than his own share of Male Author Syndrome. But at the start of 8x04, Dany is in Winterfell, perfectly sane, toasting Arya as hero of the battle. By the end of 8x06, she’s crazy, a war criminal, and dead, murdered by her boyfriend, because… well, something something plot reasons. Even if you didn’t like Dany or were rooting for her to go mad or whatever, that was wildly badly handled.

I personally think it would be pretty gross for GRRM to also go down the Mad Queen route, though at least if he does, we will have had Dany’s POV chapters beforehand and presumably something resembling a justification and a building narrative momentum toward it. But she also got stuck in Meereen for so long because by his own admission he didn’t know what to do with her there or how to get her out of the situation and moved onto Westeros, which remains, theoretically, her outstanding goal in the books. It would obviously not be outside the realm of possibility for this to happen, given GRRM’s focus on “grittiness” that the show took to max factor 5000. I would still find it reductive and trying to make a Clever Postmodern Point and etc if it happened in the books, because literally why invest us in a character this long, especially one who has tried so hard to overcome the circumstances of her past/to not be her father, and then just do exactly that? Obviously there would be elements of Shakespearean tragedy to it, and if done well it could be compelling, but I personally just have a different approach to fiction and what people want out of a story (especially one now as famous as GOT/ASOIAF and how universally betrayed everyone seems to feel by the ending). I’m not saying Dany’s ultimate ending needs to be sunshine and roses and getting what she wants, because often character arcs and resolutions become all the more powerful for being subverted and thwarted (think the “I said I wanted [x] but [y] was there instead” sort of endings). But whatever it is, it needs to be…. not that.

Also, Jon in both books and especially show has been the epitome of Mediocre White Man. I stopped watching in s4, but Kit Harington’s acting was so wooden and the writing for him was very much Standard Misunderstood Brooding Fantasy Hero that I could barely pay attention to his scenes. I find him somewhat more interesting in the books, though ADWD dragged for everyone and it was obvious GRRM was writing in circles. But everyone has noticed that especially in the show, Jon does absolutely bupkis. His ass is constantly saved by the women in his life, he makes an absolute hash of any power that he is given and doesn’t want it anyway, and his ultimate ending was…. going back to the Night’s Watch (as their idea of satisfying narrative storytelling is to literally put everyone back where they were in the very first episode, apparently). Never mind the fact that there’s no need for the Night’s Watch, but the point is, even the fact that Jon is Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son ended up being relevant for like half an episode. That has been one of the major plot points/secrets of the books (although not so much anymore) and it just…. fizzled out like a damp squib. Dany actually TRIED for multiple seasons to be a good ruler and to learn how to handle power and become a queen, so for her to have to be the one to die for Jon to once again do diddlysquat is… well, as I have said before, the misogyny leaps out. They ended up wasting so much potential and so many other things that were also foreshadowed (and far more convincingly than “wah wah she was gonna go evil!”). For this? So Jon can just go brood in the snow again? Cool.

Not to mention, I find it gross on principle that Dany’s boyfriend had to be the one to kill her, especially after rape/sexual violence/loss of agency was such a big part of her early-season storylines (and how horrifyingly and grossly that has been handled on the show overall). We’re obviously supposed to sympathize with Jon in this scenario and to feel that it is justified to “stop a tyrant” or whatever. Also, if the episode was going to be called “Queenslayer,” why the fuck wasn’t it Jaime fulfilling the valonqar prophecy, another thing they forgot about, and killing Cersei, at great personal grief/cost, to once more stop an insane monarch from burning down King’s Landing? But that, of course, would be actual character development/overall arc, and they preferred to also trash that by having Jaime “killed Aerys Targaryen literally to save half a million innocent people and lived with his reputation being destroyed ever after” Lannister unironically claim that he never cared about the lives of the innocent and only wanted Cersei. After she again tried to kill him and Tyrion like three days ago, not even to mention what they did to Brienne and with that whole arc, but I will have a ragestroke if I think about it too much.

Basically, the ending wasn’t “bittersweet.” It was tragic, reductionist, ham-handed, hugely disappointing for everyone who put years of investment into these characters, and ended up in the amusing position of making Bran Stark the younger and more beautiful queen who comes to cast Cersei down. He became king because… reasons? Whatever? And he knows literally everything about everyone thanks to being the Three-Eyed Raven, so there’s no way that can go horribly wrong. He has basically done nothing except sit in a wheelchair and look creepy for several years now, his arc has never been remotely about being king, and Isaac Hempstead-Wright himself is apparently on record as saying he genuinely thought it was a joke script when he read it. This after both Emilia Clarke and Kit Harington broke down over learning what happened to their characters/Kit apparently realized it for the first time at the read-through and was horrified. Emilia already talked about wandering for five hours and having a crisis and calling her mom and asking to be talked off the ledge like….. fictional choices/characters completely aside, that’s a gross thing to do to your actors. I know they’re all proud of their work and they have apparently and understandably been defensive about the existence of the petition to rewrite s8, but they’ve all been pretty clear, while still being professional and supportive, that there is stuff that they’re just as much WTF about as we are.

Basically, as everyone keeps saying, the acting, cinematography, visual effects, music, etc was clearly up to as high a standard as ever, but was betrayed fundamentally and comprehensively by this god-awfully shit writing by a couple of hacks who clearly rushed the final season to get on to ruining working on Star Wars. They have also been on record about saying “you can’t do what the audience expects or it’ll get boring blah blah blah,” which is a profoundly flawed storytelling strategy if you’re paranoid and trying to outsmart your audience and do something that nobody has ever thought of because you’re an Intellectual Postmodern Commentator On Our Violent Society. If your audience can guess where a story is going, but are still surprised by major twists along the way that then make sense in hindsight, you’ve done your job. If you’re relying on grimdark and cramming in gimmicky plot twists and deus ex machinas and Shocking Moments rather than authentically developing your story, it’s going to bite you in the ass in a big way, as was just proven.

Nobody expected a completely happy ending from GoT. But the fact that they went to such lengths, especially in s8, to build up characters/ships (Jonerys, Braime, Gendrya were all torched after major canon moments completely unexpected by fans, especially the latter two – why even include it unless to just be more Tragique, and Gendrya is the only one that has even a chance in the future since half of it didn’t end up idiotically dead) and then just wrecked all of it…. as I’ve said, good endings don’t need to be rainbows and unicorns and kittens. But if you’ve asked eight years of audience investment, there has to be something that makes it worth it and that doesn’t make everyone feel like they were duped and stupid to get involved in the first place. They have been beating the “it’s a hard world and bad things happen to the characters” drum for all they’re worth, but… it’s just bad. You can analyse and ask why the hell they did things and so forth, but it’s bad. At this rate, the show should have either ended after 8x03, or they should have taken the money HBO offered and done the proper 10 episodes and let Bryan Cogman write all of them. He was the only one who appeared to remotely give a shit about the characters, and since D&D wrote the last four episodes themselves, yeah, this disaster is on them.

Fortunately, I left the show years ago and have TNR and am used to ignoring their version of things. And I knew all along that they never really got the characters or the story. But I feel really bad for everyone who has had this thrown back in their face, and it seems like a communal disenchantment with this ending is going to enter the pop-culture consciousness on a possibly unprecedented level. So if GRRM does do the Mad Queen Dany killed by Jon in the books (though he has apparently called the show’s ending “traumatic”), I’ll probably still not like it. He has a chance to sell me it on/justify it to me narratively, which the show categorically failed to do. I don’t think I will, just because as I said, I don’t like anything about it, but yes.

Anyway. This is a long post already, and I probably have more to say still, but it’s pretty obvious I think it’s just really, really bad, and that’s about the essence of it.

#got #got spoilers #got critical #anonymous #ask

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suepixels · 5 years ago

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50 | PUERI DELICATI* Darkest Child Moonlite Falls, 11:14 pm

Tonight it is a cold, fresh, but foggy night in Moonlite Falls. Midwinter just started. Nights are getting longer, and Nero hears several easter screech owls singing, who try to mate. He loves their distinctive call. Embracing peace and darkness is one of the things Nero loves to do at night. He closes his eyes just to inhale the beauty of the night together with the sound of the owls. His mind is filled up with things he needs to take care of.

Nero POV If I would ask Levi to love me? He would be here in a blink of an eye. Since I'm back, I know Levi has been waiting for a sign from me. We would need to talk about what happened before I left. But now that I'm back, I cannot get Avea out of my head. Levi said once I see her, I would fall in love with her. Towards him, I would never admit that he knows me better than I do. While I was gone for my research, I could not forget my encounter with Avea.

But there is one thing that Levi underestimates, his power over me. I can feel Levi loves me, still. If only he knew that I still love him genuinely, it would change everything between us. But I try to prevent hurting him.

Then again, I yearn intensely to have his pure love. Not only do I desire to have him by my side as a friend, but also as the mate whose love has captivated me before. He is the one I could always lean on. Beyond a doubt, Levi would be almost everything I actually need.

At some point, it seems to be impossible to let those feelings simply go. But then there is this most likely attractive young grown-up lady, who I would like to meet again. The beauty of the one I desire to be enchanted. For she holds the key to my ultimate desire.

[very conflicted] What should I do? Should I drop my dream for him? What if she drops me? Either way, whatever I would do? It would end up hurting my Levi again.

At times I do feel insanely lonely, regardless of how many people are around me. Only Levi makes me feel needed and alive. After Levi, it used to be Ianthe until she betrayed me. Strange how life goes. It has been more than a thousand years now since I roamed across this world, and yet I have only met less than a handful of people I ever loved or still love.

No matter the cost, I have to protect this fragile chance of love. At least I have to try as much as I love him. Levi would not want to share his love with someone else for me.

Damm, Val! Why can we not be what we are supposed to be? Brothers! I’m so sorry that Levi and I have to do this again to you. But I cannot tolerate what you did. Why are you making my life living hell? [sighs] I know you love Avea. [jealous] You sucker of a brother stole her like a thief before I could have even a chance? If possible at all?

[his thoughts roam] Back in the early days, I used to love you dearly, Levi. I raised you, taught you to love and how to be a man before I turned you into a vampire. I'm so sorry that I had to cut off my feels. But you needed to breathe, grow to become the man you are today. I had to let you go, puer delicatus.

[eyes closed] Your love for me remains unforgotten. Just as I will never forget the moment when we were united through our blood, or the sex right after. [smiles]

Unforgotten remains also your facial expression when I told you that it would be over with our love. I was calm, determined, and cold towards you. But I could see how you broke into million pieces in front of me. If you would only know how hard it used to be to let you go. You never saw how I broke down after you were gone. My apology was far and away to be enough to alleviate the pain I have caused - I knew. Your dreams with me shattered at the moment when I ended us. You tried your best to convince me that this does not need to be final. You blamed me for how I could do this to us. I know I broke you, and it took you over 100 years to heal. It took you even longer to come back for good. I felt how devastated you used to be. Whenever we touched us by accident, it felt painful. We both got used to it over time, eventually. It was all that we could have. Believe me, in retrospect, I profoundly remorse the harm I have done to you. But our deep bond was luckily always stronger...

It's past midnight, and Nero is hungry, very hungry... as he approaches the center of the park. He hears someone sobs on the bench.

START | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Author's Note

In the ancient Roman world, it was common to have sexual intercourse with the same gender without losing masculinity and status.

It has always been important to Nero not to lose his masculinity. After all, he is a proud alpha. Luckily, this belief no longer plays a significant role in today's society. He would be free to love whoever he chooses to love and still be who he is.

But Nero always loved the ancient world and admired the freedom of those times to love whoever you desire to love. At Rome's time, you were a full man, a virtus 'vale', the dominant, with a young man as your puer delicatus at your side.

*Puer delicatus used to be a term in ancient Rome for being a boy toy for his master. If you want to read more about it check this link. ;)

#allureofdarkness #ts4 simstory #ts4 sim story #ts4 story #ts4 vampires #nero valcari

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tearlessrain · 6 years ago

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time to subject myself to Dracula: The Dark Prince, aka another bad movie starring another dude from black sails. this time with 100% less horny on main because my only real motivation for watching it is it truly looks to be a whole new caliber of horrible and I have to see it.

witness my standards for incomprehensibly bad movies being raised prohibitively high in every way imaginable under the cut

I seriously doubt that.

this was made in 2013 by the way, not 1994 as the graphic design of that logo might suggest

oh good, once again we’re opening with an exposition narrator. except this time it’s a woman and she has less vocal inflection and emotional investment than an amazon echo.

I feel like she’s gonna tell me to turn left in 800ft

it feels like a dragon age epilogue, but just. worse.

WE ARE WATCHING A TRULY HIGH QUALITY MOVIE TONIGHT MY FRIENDS

I can’t even describe how bad this is, you really need the sound. that’s where the true lack of quality shines through. siri’s depressed sister is talking about pre-vampire dracula’s epic feats in battle to more weird sepia dioramas and the dying soldiers sound like they hired muppets to voice them

HOLY WIG BATMAN

also this dude is obnoxiously jovial considering he’s supposed to be dracula, even if this is pre-vampire

oh no dracula’s advisors, who all wear black hooded robes and scowl ominously, have betrayed him and killed his wife, how unexpected

someone drew these, looked at them, and thought “yeah that’s good enough to go in the final movie”

the characters are speaking both english and what I assume is... romanian or something? transylvanian? it’s not spanish or welsh I can tell you that much. anyway there are no subtitles and also no rhyme or reason to which they’re speaking at any given time so I hope I’m not missing anything important. probably not.

so like... they killed his wife, yes. and he went on a murderfest in what appears to be a church in revenge, makes sense. now a dude who... I think maybe he’s supposed to be a priest or something? but he wasn’t speaking english so I can’t be sure, then a voice over said “I have killed for god, the hand that fought for him will now be turned against him” but I’m unclear on who was speaking. this movie is an absolute clusterfuck and we aren’t even five minutes in yet. this is still the prologue.

now zombie alexa claims dracula was cursed with immortality “in punishment for his defiance” but I’m still not sure... what defiance. he killed the dudes who murdered his wife and that’s somehow not okay despite his apparent status as a war hero, a designation that implies a LOT of killing has already happened?

fucking finally, the title screen. usually a prologue clarifies what a movie is about but I went in thinking I knew and now have absolutely no idea what I’m watching.

a carriage drawn by friesians is rolling through a misty forest with wolf howling sound bites playing at random in the background to vaguely urgent music, now this is what I’m here to see.

nevermind the carriage is too slow so they’re leaving it because that’s a thing people do (?????)

“Lady Arwen, we cannot delay”

seriously though everyone’s mumbling so much I can’t understand them much better than when they were speaking whatever the other language was

BOOTLEG XENA RIDES AGAIN

but this time she’s accompanied by esme. we don’t know who esme is yet either.

there she goes

and now the knights are being attacked by hilarious squeaky goblin things? who I guess are led by this power rangers villain with, again, an unintentionally hilarious voice. it’s like a bad batman impression.

with every minute that passes I become less certain of what I’m actually watching.

they’re looking for the “light bringer” and telepathically overseen by the world’s most halfassed lestat dracula

they’ve also got some random prisoners in a cage wagon

okay the prisoners are being taken to dracula’s castle and I’m sorry for such an image-heavy post but I NEED you to understand the community theater level of set design/quality we’re dealing with here

“what is that?” cardboard and mod podge is my guess

so far the only thing esme has done is fall off her horse and be knocked unconscious, and now a Roving Band of Misogynists has appeared to harass Bootleg Xena 3.0 in the most generic way possible (the words “what ‘ave we got ‘ere” accompanied by a chorus of malicious cackling and some whistles have been spoken)

oooh no the ringleader of the Roving Misogynists has been given a name, and it’s ~Lucien~. I have a horrible feeling that I’m about to bear witness to the worst romantic subplot in the history of cinema.

oh for... I thought at least bootleg xena 3.0 would be a Strong Female Character and fight them off, but she just rapped lucien on the head with her sword and then they stole her very important box and left as obnoxiously as they came

OH NO SHE’S ASKING TO GO WITH THEM, SOMEHOW THAT’S HER PLAN I THINK I’M RIGHT SHE’S GONNA HOOK UP WITH LUCIEN AND IT’S GOING TO BE HORRIBLE.

“trust me” she says to esme, who, wisely, obviously does not.

I appreciate the timely thunderclap every single time the castle comes on screen

who the fuck are you, did you wander onto the wrong movie set

nope okay they’re not gonna explain that shot at all we’re just moving on to a shot of a weird angel shadow doing slow flamenco moves on the ceiling while ominously gurgling, and the prisoners being led into the throne room

“what’s happening to us?” I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE SAME THING, PRISONER #3

oh never mind that guy from before wasn’t a priest, he is remfield, chancellor of this kingdom, which means the last scene he was in makes even less sense

AKSLDGHJFGAKDLFJGHKAJGHFDKLFDS;GJokay so. remfield introduced himself then said “I will see that your needs are tended to.” then dracula in his new white contacts gets up from his shadowy throne, circumnavigates the cluster of prisoners, sniffs them dramatically, and walks back to his throne. remfield then says, “come, I will see that your needs are tended to” because proofreading is for COWARDS

now remfield is... literally giving the prisoners a tour of the castle and going on the “oh you’re our guests and many pleasures and adventures await you” speech and somehow the prisoners are accepting this despite the fact that they were just carted in on a barred wagon in shackles and got sniffed by a bad alucard cosplayer. they have a fucking harpist.

seriously, who the fuck are you

she’s just been twirling around in the background of this entire scene for no discernible reason no matter what rooms they go into

what the hell am I watching

yeah they’re just going for that incredibly suspicious food and also seem weirdly okay with the ambient clusters of scantily clad lesbians no one will explain okay they deserve whatever happens to them

WHOA TITS apparently this movie is a different rating than I thought

remfield: the newcomers have settled in

dracula: I d o n ‘ t l i k e s t r a n g e r s

then why pray tell have you brought them directly into your home in chains. I cannot stress enough how avoidable this situation was for you my dude

“just think sire, once the light bringer is in your possession no one need die again” “except those who defy me” [ominous chime as the angel shadow on the ceiling continues its sensuous flamenco dance]

meanwhile in the misty blue filter forest of eternal night, some guy in a tricorn finds a gold amulet that I think bootleg xena 3.0 dropped, and the power ranger villain rides menacingly in a random direction for a few seconds

I’m still waiting on whether this masterful display of cinematic calvinball has any cohesive story to it.

ah joy and we’re back to The Non-Adventures of Xena 3.0, Esme, and the Roving Misogynists

as an aside, I’m not calling her that just to be dumb, I’m calling her that because they still haven’t given her a name even though her sidekick got one in the first five minutes

they’ve opened the box and revealed... the light bringer, which is a wooden staff. because it is not shiny gold, the roving misogynists regard it with confounded disgrunglement and scoff at xena 3.0′s insistence that it can defeat dracula

these guys sound like what an eleven year old thinks gangs of ne’er-do-wells sound like. like cartoon weasels, if the weasels were also mediocre pirates who have heard of women, conceptually, but never seen one. like goblins in a pre-written D&D campaign run by a slightly overwhelmed first time DM.

HUR DUR WALKING STICK NOT TREASURE, WOMAN DUMB

it’s what cain used to slay abel, apparently. given that zombie alexa mentioned that dracula is the descendent of abel, this leaves us with the terrifying implication that someone did put at least some vestige of effort into writing this movie.

oh good she’s finally gonna fight lucien

no she failed again. please someone just punch the shit out of lucien so he’ll stop.

NO WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT STOP IT GOD HAVE SOME STANDARDS WOMAN. STOP PLAYING FLOATY ROMANTIC MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND THEY ARE LITERALLY STILL STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ENTIRE BAND OF ROVING MISOGYNISTS

I thought it might at least be a trick but no she is actually, genuinely starstruck over this profoundly mediocre olde-timey frat boy who called her “sweetheart” while she was trying to explain to him why the ancient dracula-defeating relic was important.

this guy.

we did it boys, we found a worse love story than twilight

also I just. I wish I could convey with words the way the roving misogynists react to every single thing lucien and sometimes xena 3.0 says like the world’s worst greek chorus in a literally neverending stream

lucien (post makeout and xena 3.0 explaining again that the relic is ancient and powerful and they’ve searched for ages to find it): well we may not be knights but we can respect that

[cacophony of rowdy but understated agreement]

lucien: what do you think boys, should we give it back?

[assorted grumbles of assent]

xena 3.0: hm, a thief with a conscience

[gruff mercenary-esque chuckling]

lucien: maybe even a heart

[chorus of “ooooooOOOooh”s and some whistles]

it just goes on like that in every scene they happen to be physically adjacent to, they never shut up but also never actually contribute or say anything meaningful

ah, the mysterious leonardo has appeared. I think he was the one they were trying to take the light bringer to so that’s handy

“what is happening here? what is this flirtation?? is this the people to share your sacred secrets with???” - leonardo, the only remotely rational person in the entire movie

oh he is schooling these idiots, finally someone with sense. it’s bouncing right off of lucien, but at least he’s saying it.

“the scourge” - leonardo

“scourge!” “scourge!?” “scourge?” “hrgghhg??” “hrrm...” - the roving misogynists

power ranger villain and his squeaking goblins vs leonardo, the most useless female leads of all time, and the roving misogynists. who will win.

not the people watching this movie, I can tell you that much.

oh no, the lightbringer isn’t working. this will do nothing to convince the roving misogynists that it isn’t a walking stick

oop, wilhelm scream

oh no lucien has picked up the light bringer

goddamn it he’s the chosen one isn’t he

yep he activated the stick and now we all have to suffer

oh xena 3.0′s coming for power ranger villain maybe she’ll actually do something

nope she bounced off him and now he’s grabbed her and hauled her onto his horse

“you’re coming with me” he says in his weird batman voice, to make sure the audience can tell that he is in fact taking her with him

and esme has yelled “no” to make sure we remember that she’s in the movie

wait what the. did lucien just yell “xena” is that her actual name what the fuck. what the fuck. I had to have misheard that. okay I can’t tell what he’s saying for sure but someone’s bound to say her name again at some point in the movie so I’ll revisit that.

and on that note, I think I’ll end here, because there ended up being a LOT more to unpack in this movie than I expected, it’s after midnight, and I’m tired.

tomorrow, we follow lucien as he presumably goes to save some lady he wildly disrespected and then made out with one time whose name may or may not actually be xena, and hopefully figure out what the hell is even going on with dracula, remfield, and their castle full of artfully strewn half naked harpist lesbians and dancing ceiling shadows. because right now I really don’t have time to unpack all that, and I have a feeling it will only get worse.

#this is #a masterpiece #no description of mine can hope to do it justice #hypnotically incomprehensible #tearless liveblogs

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dailyaudiobible · 6 years ago

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01/15/2019 DAB Transcript

Genesis 31:17-32:12, Matthew 10:24-11:6, Psalms 13:1-6, Proverbs 3:16-18

Today is the 15th day of January. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and, of course, every day is a joy and a pleasure to be here with you and in your presence and in the presence of our brothers and sisters all over the world. And we lovingly call this activity the global campfire. And I don't really know where that started, honestly, it just kind of stuck a few years ago, I guess I was just sitting here right in front of the mic just picturing us all coming in out of the cold, you know, because we begin the year, at least here in the northern hemisphere in the wintertime. So, we’re just coming out of the cold. And, you know, it can be like dark and cold out there and to be able to come in and warm yourself with friends and know that you not alone, know that this journey isn't a solitary endeavor, that we're in this together. I just…I guess…it just kind of caught on from there. So, just through another log on the global campfire, and off we go. And man, here we are halfway. This is like the halfway point of the first month of the year and it happens just like that because it was just Christmas, right? Like it just was Christmas but this is…time just kind of moves and before we know it we’ll be in another season and the year will move by and we’ll realize just how much God's word is speaking into our lives and just how profoundly it is affecting the way we make our decisions and that happens day by day, step-by-step around this global campfire. So, let’s dive in. We’re reading from the New Living Translation this week. Today, Genesis chapter 31 verse 17 through 32 verse 12, and reminding you we’re following the story of Jacob and his wives and their children, and they want to leave and head back to Jacob's homeland. And, so, there's some drama brewing. Genesis chapter 31.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the Old Testament in the book of Genesis we’re following the story of Jacob who…well…we don't have to review every little detail of the story because we just read it in the last couple of days, but he's on his way back to his homeland and we need to remember that he had to flee from his homeland, right, because he's the one that stole his brothers birthright and then he and his mother kind of colluded to get this family blessing. So, when Esau, the older brother, finds out what has happened Jacob has to run for his life and Esau decides, like, after I'm done mourning my father I’m going to kill my brother, right? So, like, they have to separate each other, separate from each other. And, so, it's been a couple of decades now. So, that's, you know, some time for this to all cool off, but Jacob doesn't know, I mean the last thing he knew was that his brother wanted to kill him, but he doesn't really have a great scenario where he's at with his father-in-law Laban because Laban, I mean, Jacob and Laban, they both have been like tricking each other and we can't forget that Jacob's a bit of a trickster himself. I mean he did get the birthright from Esau, he did get the family blessing under trickery and he did have to run away for it. So, Laban’s given him a taste of his own medicine but there's no future there and God is calling him to go back to his Father. So, what we saw in today's reading was this man and his wives and his family and their whole entourage leaving secretly to try to do just that. And in a very, very short time we have Jacob and his family in the middle of a pretty nasty situation that could turn really volatile really fast and destroy them all because behind him he's got his father-in-law Laban and their family and surely, they're going to figure out that he's gone. So, they're going to come in pursuit, but out in front of him he's got his brother Esau also wanting to do him harm. So, he's kind of like in between two bad situations. And you may find yourself in a similar position in life. And we see Jacob responding in a very, very human way, in a way that we would understand. I mean Laban does arrive and there is a pretty big confrontation and then Jacob is able to kind of unload some of the things that he's been carrying around. And in the end, a monument is set up, a covenant is entered into, and they have agreed that they will not pass that boundary line with the intent of hurting each other. So, Jacob's able to navigate and find favor in that situation that was behind him, the one haunting image from his past as it were, but he’s still got his future out in front of him, which is a big circle from the very distant past, his brother. And, so, he sends word just the sort of test the temperature and the next thing he knows his brothers riding toward him with 400 mercenaries and that's kind of where were left today. So like, let's get it really clear that in biblical times these people didn’t just float around, you know, a foot off the ground with halos and, you know, like they actually had to face some pretty difficult things, and as we do. So, we can look into these stories and say, okay, yeah, I mean proverbially I got the same thing going on, I’ve got something going on behind me, I’ve got something going on before me, I feel like I’ve been caught in the middle, I’ve got to navigate this. Probably not to the extreme of Jacob. And we get to watch Jacob navigate and learn from it.

Then we get into the book of Matthew and Jesus is saying some pretty provocative stuff. Don't imagine that I came to bring peace to the earth. I came not to bring peace but a sword. I've come to set man against his father, daughter against her mother, daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, your enemies will be right in your household. Okay. So, what happened to the loving baby Jesus in the manger and peace on earth and goodwill towards men? Like, Christmas hasn’t hardly worn off. What is this? What we have to begin to realize about Jesus message and Jesus way is that He is fundamentally reminding human beings what they were created to be and He is living a life as a full human being, certainly, the son of God as we believe, fully divine but also fully human as the Scriptures teach us. And, so, we’re looking at Jesus and we’re seeing a person like people are supposed to be, like what they were created to be without the black weight of sin involved. And light comes into the darkness, certainly the darkness flees, right, but the shadows are cast and it's like a cosmic battle because mankind had been spending its time trying to organize itself in such a way that it could be its own God, which is what we saw as we started this story back in the book of Genesis chapter 3 with the fall of man and betrayed. Like, eating that fruit gave mankind the knowledge of good and evil, but what mankind lost in the trade was an intimate fellowship with God. And, so, mankind became very evil but tried to use the knowledge of good and evil to become its own God. Well when God shows up in the middle of that story then we’re talking about the clash of kingdoms and people are notoriously famous for not wanting to give up their freedom of choice and will. And yet that is exactly what…that is exactly what Jesus message is. And maybe kind of taking this journey this year, first time through the Bible just kind of wanting understand what it is actually saying so you can determine whether you’re going to follow this path or not, this is fundamentally the Jesus way, is that there is a better way of being a human being, one that is restored to the way that human beings were supposed to live. And we get to watch that in the person of Jesus, but we also notice that those with power and influence only feel exposed by Jesus. Like, they can't cozy up to Jesus and get him to collude with them because He won't, because He's pure, because He's true and He can't be bought. We’re watching a person live in this world true and everywhere He goes it disrupts what is false even to the point of dividing family. So, the Scriptures tell us there’s a narrow path that leads to life and only a few find it and those who do disrupt things. And all you have to do is just think about it, think about, well okay, what if I were absolutely truth? Like, what if there were no falseness in me? When we start thinking about that we realize that all of the ways that we relate to each other has a falseness to it. We are presenting an image so that we can all find a way to get along, but we have an inner monologue of things that are really going on that we wouldn't let out. Some of that’s because we wouldn’t let out the embarrassing dark thoughts that we have, but what if we didn't have any darkness either, right? So, what if we weren’t hiding anything because there wasn't anything to hide and everything that we did, everything about us was true, everyone knew exactly who we really are and that was good, that was true and good. Well then, we would be Christ like, right, then we would be like Christ. Then we think, well, that kind of person could really lead people into the truth, that kind of person…that kind of a leader would really, really pull us forward, but that's not how it worked out for Jesus, right? Those in power and authority killed Him. The darkness does not want the light because you can't hide in the light. And, so, understand that as we take this journey and truly give ourselves over to allowing a relationship with God, an intertwining of spirits, a transformation from within us, so that we are experiencing actual life, not a fabricated version full of stuff that we have to maintain, but actual life, then that is not going to just disrupt us, that is going to disrupt everything around us

Prayer:

Father, we pray for wisdom as we continue to take these steps forward. Its intriguing to understand that the life that we want, the truth that we want, the way that we want to walk into life with You, our hearts cry for this, but as the layers begin to get peeled back we begin to understand, following this way on the narrow path that leads to life will be costly and will cost us everything that we think we are because everything that we have been is changing and everything that we are in You. So, we invite Your Holy Spirit to come. We’re here at the beginning of the year and Your testing our motivations, You're revealing our hearts to ourselves, You are allowing us to see things as they really are and we are swept into this, we have pulled forward. So, Holy Spirit show us how to navigate. With Your wisdom we pray. In Jesus name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, be sure to stay connected and check it out.

Check out the Daily Audio Bible resources that are in the Daily Audio Bible shop, visit the Prayer Wall at dailyaudiobible.com or in the app, pray for your brothers and sisters around the world or maybe you need your brothers and sisters to pray for you. This is a community that prays for each other and shoulders one another's burdens. And, so, the Prayer Wall is a certainly one of the places to do that.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage and it just lives there. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, this is Sherry Running to God. I just listened to the January 9th reading and I believe it just has stirred my heart, my soul. I think I’m starting to question if I really know God. Brian said, there’s a difference between knowing someone and actually knowing them. And I wonder now if I really know God in a relationship. So, now because I’ve listened more to and taken more time to sit and listen to the Daily Audio Bible, questions are starting to arise. Please pray for me that my faith grows strong and that I don’t have to question anymore because I am in a relationship with God and I do know him. Thanks.

Hey family, this is Linda from New Hampshire. Stuff is really hittin’ the fan air right now as I call in. My son and daughter-in-law are really, really, really fighting. I live with them. My daughter-in-law has had lot to drink. There was a previous betrayal on my son’s part and she’s just having a really bad time right now. And, I mean, I’m actually concerned for the safety of my grandson’s Owen and Oliver. And I just need to know that there’s somebody out there praying, and I know God doesn’t look at time, isn’t restricted by time. I’ve got to go to work tomorrow and is 11:24 and the fighting’s been going on for about 25 minutes. I don’t even know what to say right now. It’s beyond sad, it’s beyond tragic, and I don’t know what to do. She’s really, really, really hurt just from her family origin issues and the betrayal and oh my God, please just, please keep them in your prayer. I know you all do. I keep thinking I’m gonna call in and fill you guys all in on where I’m at in life and I keep wanting to say it’s better and stuff like this happens. I love you all. Thank you.

Hey, good morning Daily Audio Bible family, this is Debbie in Des Moines, heading to work for my last few days before I start my new journey. But I actually called for a couple of things. Number one, as I call you’re gonna find that I’m not eloquent, I’m not one of those people who speak well, I stumble over my words, I sound like a dork, you know. But you know what, God loves me anyway and so does the family. So, I want to encourage those who don’t call because…because you’re like me [laughing]. Call in any way, we love you. Call in, call in, call in. But the second thing is I wanted to let you…ask for prayer for my grandson. Those who know me know that I’ve been raising him since he was an infant. He is now nine years old. He is court ordered. He has to go do overnights at his dad’s every other weekend and his dad’s household is not just atheist, their anti-God. I mean, they are anti-God. It’s not like they ignore God or anything, they’re verbally anti-God and my grandson is God hearted, prays for people and he has been having nightmares because his dad plays really bad movies, like scary movies and it gives him nightmares and there’s nothing I can do really about it, but I ask for your prayers for my grandson Trent. I love him so much and I want his little mind to be at peace and I just thank God that he is a little warrior and we pray for things together, but I covet your prayers for his peace of mind. I love you family. Bye.

Hi, yeah, it’s Michael calling from London, UK. Today is Friday, the 11th of January 2019. Yeah, I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible for about a couple years now. Yeah, and I’m really enjoying listening to it, like, I think it’s an amazing blessing that Brian and Jill have brought for us. The fact that you’ve been doing it 14 years, you know, that’s even more incredible. Yes, I‘d like to say hi to everyone at Daily Audio Bible and all the listeners that I believe I’m now a part of. Yeah, and, yeah so basically a little bit about me, I’m an actor but I’m also a qualified occupational therapist. I work with those with, you know, mental health issues but I am also part of…part of an amazing church, Hillsong London. So, yeah, hopefully I can maybe pray for you guys and it’d be great if you could pray for me, you know, anxiety issues, yeah and anything around, yeah, trying to juggle kind of acting and OT because I’ve got pressure from my agent as well as hopefully, you know, trying to be the best that I can be in that as well. Apologies about any background noise. I am driving at the moment, driving to work. Yeah, so, hopefully I hear from you guys soon and, yeah, I’ll try to make this a bit more of a regular occurrence, you know, we’re I’m just kind of praying when…as when I need because, you know, there’s some really great guys and girls on here. You know, I love the encouraging words that different people say over each other. It’s amazing you can have this online community of people that probably haven’t necessarily met each other person but at least online, you know, you can, as Brian says drop off a load on the things that we’re all going through. Okay, all right. Thank you for now. And I’ll speak to you later. Bye.

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stankrhodes · 7 years ago

Text

First Line Prompt: “It Was Supposed to be Just for One Night.”

Ship: Ironpanther

Warning: none

Word Count: 1,914

Fic Day #13/30

It was supposed to be just for one night. Tony had been home from Siberia for a month and had been on the verge of drinking again when he decided to call Rhodey. Except he hadn’t called Rhodey. The person that answered the phone was T’Challa and Tony profoundly apologized for disrupting his day. “Hello,” T’Challa had answered. “King T’Challa? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call you. I’ll just go now,” Tony said and was sniffing erratically because of his inability to keep his tears at bay. “No. There was a reason you called me Mr. Stark.”

“It was an accident. I thought I was calling Rhodey.” Tony wanted to bang his head against the wall. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. “So I am not a formidable substitute for Mr. Rhodes?” T’Challa asked and Tony wanted to bang his head into a brick wall. “Look. I’m sorry for calling. This’ll never happen again,” Tony tried to finalize but T’Challa was ever persistent. “No. I would like to know why you called. You seem to be in distress. If it’s only one night that you have to tell me, so be it.”

Tony sighed. “Just one night?” He asked and heard T’Challa hum in agreement. “I’ve had enough,” Tony began. “There’s been so much that has happened since Siberia and I know I’ve only been home for a month but I have the arc reactor back and I can’t stop having nightmares of Steve banging his shield into it. He and Barnes should have just killed me. It would have made so much shit in my life so much easier.” Tony paused and continued, “But there’s this kid that I’m sort of taking care of but he is so nice and happy and I don’t want to take away his innocence so I’m keeping him at arm's length but it’s so draining. The kid is such a refresher though. He brings me coffee and I help him with his math homework. But it really sucks because I can tell he knows there is something is wrong with me but he’s just a teenager. The last thing I want to do is drag a child into something he has no business being in. All I want to do is protect him. He deserves that from me at least.

“And then there’s fucking Ross who won’t leave me the hell alone because he thinks I know where the Rogue Avengers are, which I do but I won’t expose you like that, and he has been harassing me to get that information for him. He sent me to the raft the first week I got out of the hospital. He- he is such an evil person.” T’Challa noted the way his voice faltered at the last sentence and wondered what could have happened to make Tony so dysfunctional.

“Well, how do you feel after letting that out?” T’Challa asked softly. He heard a noisy breath from Tony on the other end of his line and waited for his response. “I feel like I need to do that more often.” “Indeed,” T’Challa said and knew Tony was referring to a therapist instead of himself.

However, he received another one of those calls two weeks later while he was in Shuri’s lab going over replacements for Mr. Barnes’ arm.

T’Challa knew it was dark in America so the call meant Tony must have had a nightmare. “Hello,” his accented voice answered the phone. “T’Challa. Hi,” Tony’s breathless tone filled T’Challa’s ear.

“Why so sudden? I thought we agreed for just one night?” “Yeah well, that would have worked if I hadn’t been having nightmares of Captain America trying to kill me for the past week. Can you just talk about something? I like hearing your voice.,” Tony states and T’Challa softly smiled as he walked through the palace halls. “Well, I don’t know if you know but the Accords are officially in their stage of development where amendments can be proposed.” A surprised squeaked emerged from Tony and T’Challa could imagine the other man smiling. “When did the word reach you? Was I asleep?” “Well, I just found out that the first amendment can be passed about two hours ago? So yes. You may have been asleep.”

“Aw man. That’s great news.” T’Challa could hear Tony’s smile and wondered if this is what falling in love felt like. This was only their second private engagement but T’Challa felt as if he had known Tony forever.

That feeling carried the both of them through the next year as they sorted through amendments for the Accords, got Thaddeus Ross put in jail, and (on Tony’s part more so than T’Challa’s) got presidential pardons for the former Avengers and Barnes.

Exactly one year after the first call, Tony called T’Challa. “Please tell me you’re not purposefully waking up in the middle of the night just to call me,” T’Challa answered and Tony laughed. “No kit kat. I actually couldn’t sleep tonight. Nerves, I think, but they’re coming home tomorrow and I genuinely don’t know how to feel.”

T’Challa had reached his office and sat behind his desk. Leaning back, T’Challa asked, “Well tell me how you think you feel.” “I know I should feel like my job is done, but I have to deal with them for those first 30 days that they’re back and I honestly don’t want that pressure weighing me down. I’ve been doing good. That’s what Rhodey and Pepper say and Rhodey suspects it’s because of you. I just don’t know if I’m emotionally stable to handle those assholes. Barnes maybe, but everyone else? I doubt it.” T’Challa smiled when Tony mentioned what Pepper and Rhodey thought about him.

In all honesty, he had grown to be infatuated with Tony in this year and if he had to admit it to anyone, he genuinely liked the man and wouldn’t mind taking him on a date. (But that would be entirely inappropriate considering the circumstances.)

“Well, I think you should relax. I would say start by putting down whatever it is your working on. Stepping out of your lab and going to your kitchen.” T’Challa’s voice was soft as he spoke. He heard a disgruntled sigh but it seemed as if Tony had begun to follow his instructions. On his 2nd kimoyo bead, T’Challa asked Jarvis to set Tony’s alarm to 8:30 am considering it was 2:45am in America.

“Are you there?” He asked and Tony responded with an affirmative. “Grab a glass of cold water and go to bed,” T’Challa said and Tony laughed. “Wow. Thanks for tricking me.” T’Challa smiled. “Not tricking more than it is making sure you’re not handling the others without sleep.”

“Thanks, T’Challa. Really,” Tony admitted softly. T’Challa smiled sadly. “I care about you, Tony.” Tony smiled. “Goodnight,” Tony said and ended the call when T’Challa said the same.

Two days after the Rogue Avengers had returned to the Avengers Compound, T’Challa and Shuri showed up as well. Tony laughed and hugged them both. “What are you doing here?” He asked with excitement in his voice. “What we can’t come see the King’s boyfriend?” Shuri said smugly and T’Challa froze. Tony looked at T’Challa thoughtfully before shrugging it off. We’ll talk about that later.

When the Rogues saw T’Challa, they were all smiles and “Good to see a familiar face.” Tony watched T’Challa’s willpower to prevent his eyes from rolling grow. Tony’s face, however, had become a stoic mask. “Actually, Shuri inquired she needed to be here for a few days to monitor Mr. Barnes’ arm and psychological progress.” Bucky visibly relaxed at that and if he weren’t around the others who would perceive him as weak, Tony’s face would have been sympathetic.

“I’ll show you down to my lab,” Tony said as if T’Challa and Shuri hadn’t seen the entire compound before. He really didn’t want the others to suspect anything, though.

As Tony, Shuri, and Bucky made their way downstairs, T’Challa stayed behind and eyed the other Avengers closely. They all seemed to perceive him as a friend. T’Challa had very few friends and he definitely did not consider these people, who betrayed their own friend, friends of his.

“Hey, T’Challa. How you been, man?” Barton asked. “I’ve been well Mr. Barton. How about yourselves?” They all shrugged. “Could be better,” Mr. Wilson spoke up and Rogers agreed. “It’s good to be home but it’s nothing like Wakanda.” T’Challa curtly nodded and looked up when Tony came running through the elevator back into the entrance-way. His face deadpanned on T’Challa. He walked over to T’Challa and grabbed his wrist. “Let’s go, King,” he said while dragging T’Challa out of the room, leaving the other Avengers standing there confused.

“You can’t do that,” Tony said when they were in the elevator and T’Challa huffed. “Whatever,” he said and Tony looked at him before laughing the hardest he had laughed since T’Challa arrived and a smile broke through the King’s face. When Tony finished laughing he intensely looked into T’Challa’s eyes and smiled. “We need to talk Mr. Kit Kat.”

T’Challa’s nerves, for the first time in a while, shot through the roof.

When they reached the lab, Shuri and Bucky were laughing about something that Tony and T’Challa could only guess was between them. “He’s stolen my sister from me,” T’Challa jokingly admitted. Tony laughed and patted his shoulder. “Tony stole you from me, brother!” Shuri yelled and Tony laughed even harder. Bucky just stood there lost for a moment before Shuri whispered something into his ear to which he softly smiled and said, “I approve if she does.”

T’Challa, again, froze in his spot and Tony couldn’t stop laughing. “Ah man. You all are hilarious. Barnes. Welcome to the family,” Tony said and Bucky’s eyes grew wide. Shuri smiled softly and looked down at her wrist when one of her kimoyo beads lit up. “Okoye!” She greeted and walked to one of the more private sections of the lab to speak with the General.

Later that night, when everyone had fallen asleep, T’Challa found himself in Tony’s lab. “Jet lag?” Tony asked when he looked up and saw the Wakandan King at his door. T’Challa nodded and, in all his glory, walked over to sit on the couch next to Tony’s workbench. “How are you?” T’Challa asked.

“Much better now that you and Shuri are here. What about you?” Tony responded and turned to direct his attention to T’Challa. “Very well.”

“Can we talk?” Tony asked diverting his eyes to T’Challa’s feet. “About?” “What Shuri said today. I know I feel something between us T’Challa. I don’t know if you do, but I know there’s something there and I’ve been ignoring my feelings too much in my life to let something so right pass me by.” T’Challa studied Tony for a moment before he stood and walked over to Tony. He lifted Tony’s head from his chin so that Tony had no choice but to look at T’Challa.

“Of course I feel something for you, Tony. I like you. A lot,” T’Challa breathed and Tony’s eyes closed as he breathed a relieved sigh. T’Challa leaned down to place a feather-light kiss on Tony’s forehead.

“You were there for me at my lowest point. Thank you,” Tony said and opened his beautiful brown eyes.

T’Challa responded, “I will be there for you at your highest points as well, my love.”

#ironpanther #countdown to infinity war #infinity war countdown #tony stark #t'challa #my writing #iron man #black panther

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chuckepisodes · 4 years ago

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Chuck vs. The Best Friend Part 3

Chuck was running to grab you and him a glass of champagne. Once he finally caught up to the guy and got the glasses, he looked over at a gang walking in. He flashed on all of them and quickly went to find you and Sarah.

When you saw Chuck walking over, you made your way over and grabbed a glass from him. "Oh thank you babe." "I just flashed." "What?" Sarah was now standing beside you. "Yeah. Her name is Smooth Lau, and they're all Triad." "Okay, let's follow them." Sarah suggested. You and Chuck nodded your heads and began making your way down when Anna appeared in front of you all. "Hey, uh, Y/N and Sarah? can I talk to you both? I could really use a friend right now." "Oh, sure." "Yeah that's no problem Anna." you said then turned to Chuck. "I'll catch up in a second, sweetie." "Okay." Chuck leaned in to give you a quick kiss. "Wait for us." Sarah said, quickly handing Chuck a chip before walking off with you and Anna.

You and Sarah were still talking with Anna. You haven't seen or heard from Chuck yet and you were just praying he was okay. "I like Jason, and, you know, on paper, he's everything Morgan's not. So that's good." "No, no. That's bad." Sarah said. "Why?" "Because Morgan's the guy you keep comparing him to." "Sarah is totally right. I'm not just saying this because Morgan is my best friend and all but... I wouldn't give up on him so quickly you know? Maybe there are still some feelings there if you keep comparing." "You guys are totally right." Anna said, a little amazed. "Oh, my God! Do you think that means I still love him?" You and Sarah then turned around when you heard a radio go off and heard someone talking about an intruder on the premises. "Chuck." you said worried. You turned to look at Sarah and could see she was a little nervous too.

You, Sarah and Casey came running into the room where Chuck was at and you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw him standing there unharmed. "Oh thank God." you said, coming to stand beside him, putting your arms around each other. But then you were all confused. "Wait. If Chuck hasn't been captured, then..." Sarah started. "Who's the spy being held by Triad?" Casey asked. "Ow. Hey, hey, wait, wait, wait. Let me explain what I'm... Hey, hey, hey." You and Chuck both instantly recognized that voice. "Oh, my God, that's Morgan." you said. "They got Morgan." Chuck said before you and him began to run off. "Hey, whoa." Sarah said, stopping both of you. "What? We gotta help him." "No. We cannot just start pulling out weapons. We're gonna blow our cover." "Then what's the next option?" you asked. "Think it's easy for me to do nothing? Goes against everything I believe in." Casey said. "Then don't do nothing. Do something." "We can't just stand here while our best friend gets tortured or killed." Chuck added. Sarah and Casey just stood there. "Fine, if you're not gonna save him...then we will." Chuck said before you two ran off.

You and Chuck ran outside to find Morgan pinned against a car by the Triad. "Wait, wait, wait! He's not a spy." Chuck yelled as you ran over. " Who the hell are you guys?" the woman asked. "Wait. What's going on?" Jason asked as he came outside with Anna and Sarah. "Morgan?" Anna said, confused to see him. "This is your ex from Buy More?" "What are you doing here?" "Tell me before I break your neck." the woman told Morgan. "No, no, no. Please don't..." you begged. "You don't wanna do that, because we know why he's here. He's here..." Chuck began "Guys..." Morgan said, begging you guys not to say anything. "He's here because he's stalking you." you said, turning to Anna. "What?" Anna asked. "That's right, that's right." Chuck said, going along with you. "He's not a spy, okay? He's a stalker. Which is a thin, but very key difference, in my opinion. I see why Anna dumped you. This guy is a profoundly disturbed individual, okay? He just can't let go of her." "Yeah sorry. He's an obsessed, but totally unthreatening...sicko. I don't know how many times I have had to tell you this. Grow up, Morgan Grimes." you finished, hating every moment of saying that. You and Chuck were so upset about that and hated watching Morgan walking away, hurt clear on his face. You looked down and grabbed Chuck's hand, trying to hold back tears. "Well, you just saved your best friend's life." Sarah told you both. "At the expense of his dignity." Chuck said upset. "Well, at least he's still breathing. Come on." Sarah pulled you with her as you kept your grip on Chuck's hand as you both walked back inside.

The next day, you called Chuck on his cell at work to see if he fixed it with Morgan for you both. "Hey Chuck..." "Hey Y/NN..." "So...any news?" "No...Morgan just can't seem to forgive us. I've tried everything." "I know you have babe. Think I should try to talk to him for us?" "I think you are going to get the same results as I did." "Yeah probably. We need to go talk to Sarah. Meet me at work in 5?" "I'll be there."

Once Chuck arrived you walked down stairs into Castle and found Sarah on the laptop. "How could you make us choose between Morgan's life and his friendship?" Chuck asked. "That wasn't going to happen, because Anna vouched for him." Sarah told you both. "You don't get who he is to us." "No, I get it. He's your best friend." "You know, you say that, but I don't think you have a clue what it means." you began. You and Chuck grabbed a seat and sat down at the table with her." Look, Sarah. I don't have parents. I mean, not really. They never really cared about me so it was like I had no parents. I had to take care of myself. I don't talk about it because that's just the way that things are now. But one thing was for damn sure. I always had Chuck and Morgan. Whenever I felt alone, they were there for me. Chuck was my shoulder to lean on while Morgan was the guy to do about anything to make me forget about what was going on and to make me laugh." "Exactly. And Morgan and Y/N were there the first day that my mom took off." Chuck began. "He didn't say much, because, honestly, what is a fifth-grader supposed to say? But we sat and me, Y/N and Morgan all split a cherry cheesecake and played "Legend of Zelda" all night long. And my dad, well, that's a whole other story. But Morgan was there for that too." "He was there for both of us in our time of need." "Morgan is more than just our best friend. He's our family." "Yes. He's always been a brother to me. So, once again, before you got here, and long after you've gone...Morgan is our family." you told Sarah, looking at her seriously. "Last night, we failed to learn the contents of the Triad's container." Sarah started. We don't know what drugs or weapons are floating around the city. And while I appreciate both of your friendship with Morgan, Iosing sight of that container endangers many people's best friends. Not just yours, guys." You and Chuck just stared at Sarah.

You went along with Chuck to go find Morgan to see if you could talk to him. "Hey, Morgan, will you please just talk to us for one second?" Chuck asked. "I have nothing left to say to you, dude. You too Y/N." You and Chuck sighed before Morgan turned back to the both of you. "Oh, one question, though, before I never speak to you both again: How did you two betraying me turn into you saving me?" "Morgan, we're so sorry for betraying you." you said. "No, you don't get to say sorry." "You're right. Sorry isn't good enough. It's a cheap way of-" "Stop it, Y/N. You don't get it. This whole thing is my fault, guys. It's me. I made this mess. You warned me not to spy. I went and did it. I'm sick of you guys being right, then having to bail me out." "You've bailed us out plenty of times." Chuck said. "I can't count on either of you to fix things my whole life. "What? Of course you can." you told him. "Look...it's time for me to pay for my own mistakes...fight my own battles." You all looked over when you noticed the Triad walking around the Buy More. "Um, buddy, I would maybe start with a different battle." Chuck said before you all ducked down and made your way to the back room.

You were all hiding in between a whole lot of boxes in the storage room in hopes that the Triad would not come looking for you all back there. "Look, just keep it down, remain calm, and this will all be over soon." you said. "No, dude. You know what this is? This is you two saving me again." "No. No, it's not. This is three best friends...hiding from a terrible beating." Chuck said. "Look, the time is now, okay? Time for me to stand up for myself! I need to go out there to these thugs and take it like a grown man. A grown man who spies on women, fine But still... Chuck, Y/N, I'm done, okay? I won't have you guys saving me anymore." Morgan said, crawling out from the boxes. You and Chuck quickly went after him. "No. Wait, wait, wait. Morgan, Morgan, wait. Wait. You can't just go out there with your breath stinking like garbage." "Way to kick a man when he's about to be beat down. I have dandruff in my beard. You wanna riff on me for that too?" "No, we wouldn't...You have dandruff in your beard?" you asked. "All I'm saying is that maybe you should freshen up first, you know? Why poke an already pissed-off bear?" Chuck asked him. "Exactly. I got the stuff right here." you said, pulling out what looked like breath spray. Morgan looked at it and gave in and opened his mouth. Your sprayed a quick squirt. "That's strong. What is that, pepp...? Is that just peppermint?" Morgan asked before passing out. "That's quick." Chuck commented

You were waiting outside by your car as you waited for Chuck to bring Morgan out in a big TV box and to get him away from here. You hit your homing device on your watch just in case anything were to go down in the process and you needed Sarah and Casey. It was taking some time and you then saw Sarah and Casey running up to you. "Y/N! Hey what's going on?" Sarah asked you. "The Triad is here and they are after Morgan. Chuck and I are trying to get him out of here without them knowing but Chuck has been taking a while and I'm getting a little worried." "Alright let's go." Casey said as you all ran inside the store.

You saw Chuck standing by the TVs and quickly made your way over. "Chuck!" you called out. Chuck quickly turned around when he heard you. "Chuck. What is it?" Sarah asked. "I flashed. We have to get to the auction. Triad's are gonna kill the Chinese ambassador." "Why would he walk into a Triad den?" Sarah asked. "Wang's got a legitimate business. Ambassador doesn't know Wang's Triad." Casey explained. "It's not a safe place for him. Look, we just gotta get Morgan." Chuck said as he began making his way back to Morgan and you followed him. You and Chuck looked around, panicking, when you noticed the box you put him in was gone. "Wait." "Chuck...Where's Morgan?" you asked. You both then looked at the back door. "Morgan?!" you and Chuck shouted before running to the back "Guys wait!" Sarah shouted as she and Casey ran after you both.

When you all got to the back though it was too late, you saw the Triad get into the car and drive off with the box that Morgan was in, in the back.

#Chuck Series Rewrite #Chuck #Chuck TV Series #Chuck x Reader #Chuck Bartowski #Chuck Bartowski x Reader #Zachary Levi

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tracingpatterns · 7 years ago

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Beyond the Wrong and into the Pattern

Last week, Kai Cole shocked the internet when she came clean about her ex-husband, the screenwriter and director Joss Whedon, who is best known as the creator of the television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In a scathing essay for the Wrap, Cole describes Whedon’s repeated violation of their relationship boundaries, his lying and gaslighting, and the ways that his neglect led her to compromise her integrity as she struggled to keep their 16-year marriage together:

“Joss admitted that for the next decade and a half, he hid multiple affairs and a number of inappropriate emotional ones that he had with his actresses, co-workers, fans and friends, while he stayed married to me,” Cole writes. “Despite understanding, on some level, that what he was doing was wrong, he never conceded the hypocrisy of being out in the world preaching feminist ideals, while at the same time taking away my right to make choices for my life and my body based on the truth. He said, after he left, he understood: ‘It’s not just like I killed you, but that I’d done it subtly, over years. That I’d been poisoning you. Chipping away at you.’ He made me doubt my own instincts and watched me move further away from my personal values and social mores, trying to connect with him, never telling me it was impossible."

Cheating is often perceived as a problem in a marriage rather than one of boundaries and consent. Marriage, after all, is easy to categorize as part of patriarchy’s structural constraints on women, a dated mechanism that cannot be expected to “work.” Looked at it a different way, however -- as an agreement made by people about their needs and limits -- it becomes much easier to understand how repeatedly stepping out without any effort to renegotiate the existing relationship agreement is, in essence, a denial of a partner’s right to exercise agency. “It’s not just like I killed you,” Whedon told her, referencing the ultimate denial of agency. But it’s worse than that: it’s that he acted like she didn’t have a right to agency.

A recurring pattern of cheating is emotionally destabilizing -- in order to keep the relationship going, a partner must be lied to and sometimes gaslit. As instances of emotional neglect, disconnection and misattunement pile up, the partner being lied to begins to exercise betrayal blindness to cope with the mounting cognitive dissonance. This process is largely not conscious. As the betrayal scholar Dr. Jennifer Freyd writes, “unawareness helps the victim survive. [Betrayal theory] draws on two facts about our nature as social beings and our dependence and reliance on others. First, we are extremely vulnerable in infancy, which gives rise to a powerful attachment system [that views maintaining the bonds we form with others as a biological imperative]. Second, we have a constant need to make ‘social contracts’ with other people in order to get needs met. This has led to the development of a powerful cheater-detector system. These two aspects of our humanity serve us well, but when the person we are dependent on is also the person betraying us, our two standard responses to trouble conflict with each other. [ ... ] The standard response to betrayal -- confrontation or withdrawal -- may only make the situation worse for the person who depends on the [person doing the betraying], because confrontation and withdrawal are generally not good for inspiring attachment and caregiving.” Freyd’s research and that of others in the past 30 years indicate that terror and violence are not the only things capable of traumatizing someone: betrayal does as well.

Cole’s account illustrates why Lundy Bancroft recognizes “the Player” as one of the archetypal patterns of abuse in his seminal work on relational harm Why Does He Do That? Abuse is defined by entitlement (or to use Whedon’s own words: “When I was running Buffy, I was surrounded by beautiful, needy, aggressive young women [ ... ] I am a powerful producer and the world is laid out at my feet and I can’t touch it.” Except he did touch it and he felt justified in touching it (“In many ways I was the height of normal, in this culture. We’re taught to be providers and companions and at the same time, to conquer and acquire -- specifically sexually -- and I was pulling off both!”). Even as he admits that he had affairs that violated his wife’s consent and created literal hostile workplace environments on his sets, Whedon frames it not as deeply troubling pattern he needs to address but as a banquet laid out for him. The women with whom he had affairs aren’t agents any more than Cole is -- they are food items laid out for him. Like his then-wife, Whedon’s sexual partners are not humans with a right to self-determine. The world laid out a table and cruelly told him not to eat -- there are no other humans in this picture. “He is incapable of taking women seriously as human beings rather than playthings,” to quote Bancroft.

Whedon has suggested over the years that cheating on Cole was a personal problem specific to the tragedy of their growing apart over the course of nearly two decades together. However, his troubled history of relationships with other women -- from actresses and crew working on his shows, to other romantic partners -- and his work loudly contradict this assertion. In a 2015 analysis of his work, Laurel Jupiter spoke to the core of Whedon’s pattern:

The initial patriarchal villains of the Buffyverse were men who abused women using either brute strength or political power, but the three nerds [introduced later on in Buffy] are another kind of misogynistic male antagonist that grew to dominate and completely consume Joss’s work in the 00s: the nerdy, story-obsessed guy who used his intelligence and mastery of technology to abuse and control strong, heroic women. Nerdy men who, like Joss, either created or tampered with the women they wanted total control over, either by building androids or altering existing women, usually via invasive medical torture.

Joss the writer invents the character of Buffy while having workplace clashes with her actress Sarah Michelle Gellar; [the three nerd villains in Buffy] Andrew, Warren, and Jonathan drug their girlfriends into compliance and create the BuffyBot to obey their will. This villain character would show up again and again in Joss’ later works: the scientist who had, thanks to his technical and storytelling skills, been given custody by higher powers over women who would normally be far out of his range of influence. And, uncomfortably, all of the actors cast for these roles bore a striking physical resemblance to Joss.

[The episode “Storyteller” in Buffy] was a story about Andrew the Joss-doppelgänger filming the house of potential Slayers for a series he called Buffy, Slayer of the Vampyres. A major theme of “Storyteller” was Andrew’s intrusive use of the Buffy cast’s personal lives and pain to make a good story, his refusal to acknowledge their privacy, and possibly, as Anya kept insisting, to use his videos as masturbation material. It seemed like a huge moment of self-awareness and self-reflection about the relationship Joss had to the real and fictional women who worked for him, especially given the conflicts he had at the time with actresses like Charisma Carpenter over her character Cordelia and personal bodily autonomy (pregnancy) [He reportedly fired Carpenter for getting pregnant as well as other abuses]. It was self-critical and raw and I was proud of Joss for being willing to go there in such a public way.

Buffy ended, and Andrew redeemed himself, but the misogynist-nerd-self-loathing metastory intensified. One of the aspects of the Three Nerds villain arc that had always made me profoundly uncomfortable was the way Joss positioned the boys’ nerdy pursuits and lack of traditional masculinity -- not just their treatment of women -- as something inherently repulsive. Viewers were supposed to be disgusted by the sight of three dorky boys nerding out over Star Wars figurines. Buffy and the house full of potential slayers call Andrew vile names for being a nerd, not in response to his behavior [toward them]; by the end of his run, I felt the urge to protect Andrew -- not from the girls, but from Joss -- who was clearly using him as a punching bag onto which he was projecting his own self-loathing.

The next major Joss project was Dollhouse, with evil scientist and Joss-lookalike Topher Brink programming, manipulating, and violating various women into playacting roles he’d scripted for them. It was such a blatant story about Joss and his actresses it was difficult to watch. Like, My Feminism Is Just An Excuse To Exploit Hot Actresses, I Am Such A Disgusting Creature!!! Coming soon to the CW!

At some point in his career, Joss became so intent on the masochistic fantasy of being hated by strong women for being a nerd that he spent a decade writing stories about violating those women to ensure they would hate him.

This pattern shows through in Cole’s essay. She, a strong and self-possessed woman, supported and buttressed Whedon’s dreams and pushed him to develop these into a career. She cofounded Bellwether Pictures with him. She kept their life together as he worked on numerous projects. She adored him, and he ensured her destruction and through it, that of their marriage.

It’s tempting to imagine that marriage is complicated, that the fault hides in the love and attention Whedon was not receiving from his wife. But then why would he destroy the next relationship he had in which a new partner offered to explore a non-exclusive relationship together?

After his separation from Cole, Whedon had the opportunity to have a nonmonogamous relationship in which he could explore his interest in power-exchange (that is, erotic play involving power and control, or BDSM). He chose instead to slowly poison this partner too, to use his own words, but in a different way. Arden Leigh, singer songwriter of Arden and the Wolves, writes:

In the wake of his separation I offered him a consensual non-monogamous BDSM relationship so he could have his fantasies responsibly, and he STILL chose monogamy and lying.

I figured hey, marriages are messy, and while there was no question he made mistakes (which he admitted), I chalked it up to societal default monogamy and sexual repression being the problem. I thought he deserved a chance at having what he wanted in an honest way, and I offered him that. And in return he took everything I offered and then piled so much shame on me for it that I spent a good year of my life thinking I was completely unworthy of love, that I'd always fall on the wrong side of someone's Madonna/whore complex. The effort I've undertaken since the start of 2016 to undo this fuckery has been monumental.

Monogamy is not the problem. One troublesome marriage is not the problem. When you hate yourself so much that you only get off when the women you desire hate you too, then you will continue to hurt people so that you can revel in the guilt over what a piece of shit you are. And when you are a rich white man who has every resource to heal and instead you consciously choose not to so that you can stay in the comfort of your patterns of hurting both others and yourself, that's no different from abuse. And I'm glad to see it made public.

Looking over the archetypes of abuse that Bancroft describes in Why Does He Do That? we begin to recognize that the infidelity described by both of Whedon’s former partners is actually a symptom, rather than the problem itself. In many ways, Whedon’s use of his position as a feminist ally bears more resemblance to Bancroft’s “Mr. Sensitive” than ��the Player”:

He loves the language of feelings, openly sharing his insecurities, his fears, and his emotional injuries. [ ... ] Often he has participated extensively in therapy or twelve-step programs, or reads all the big self-help books, so he speaks the language of popular psychology and introspection. His vocabulary is sprinkled with jargon like developing closeness, working out our issues, and facing up to hard things about myself. He presents himself to women as an ally in the struggle against sex-role limitations.

Mr. Sensitive wraps himself in one of the most persuasive covers a man can have. If you start to feel chronically mistreated by him, you are likely to assume that something is wrong with you, and if you complain about him to other people, they may think you must be spoiled: ‘You have the New Age man, what more do you want?’

He blames his behavior on you or on his emotional ‘issues,’ saying that his feelings were so deeply wounded he had no other choice. [ ... ] The “gentle man” style of abuser tends to be highly self-centered and demanding of emotional catering. He plays up how fragile he is to divert attention from the swatch of destruction he leaves behind him.

#abuser tactics #trauma impact #joss whedon #kai cole #cheating #emotional abuse

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anghraine · 8 years ago

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I will never get over the "i don't believe in love at first sight / but godamn" gifset for jyn/cassian, it's perfect. also, your tags on the partisan jyn rec have me imagining a persuasion au, this time with cassian as anne and jyn as wentworth (draven as lady russell, I guess??) I love Persuasion AUs and that fic is so good :)

Heeeh, I love it!

I hadn’t really thought of the details of an alternate AU, beyond thinking that captaincy and gender aside, Wentworth (careless, impulsive, generous, spirited) is the most like Jyn, and Anne (obedient, withdrawn, intense, faithful) the most like Cassian. But I think it could work.

(Completely scattered thoughts on the ‘how,’ but I definitely think it would be fun and interesting!)

Draven is definitely the obvious Lady Russell candidate (he could even be ambiguously positive in the way Ly R is, which would be an interesting take on him). Mon Mothma would be very interesting, too—I think she’s more of a Lady Russell-type personality (which would leave Draven as Sir Walter, omfg). And I think it would allow for some exploration of what’s the most interesting part of Persuasion for me.

The thing is, Persuasion never really answers the question of whether Anne was morally wrong or right to break off her relationship with Wentworth under Lady Russell’s influence. It feels wrong. It turned out badly. But morality is not determined by consequences alone, and here, there’s a complex system of obligations and risks at play. Anne felt an obligation to listen to Lady Russell’s advice—not to obey unthinkingly, but to strongly factor it into her decision-making process, given her own youth, Lady Russell’s role as her surrogate mother, and her deep respect for her.

And Lady Russell was right in believing there were real risks to Anne marrying Wentworth so young, risks to any children they might have, etc. His ‘I don’t need to save anything, I’ve always been lucky, I’ll always be lucky’ shtick did him zero favours—Mr Price probably thought so, too, and the fact that Wentworth’s luck did hold is … well, lucky. “I’m going to go fight Napoleon and make a bunch of money, everything’s going to be fine” is not a compelling argument!

On top of that, the winning point in Lady Russell’s argument—the thing that finally swayed Anne—was that the marriage would be bad for Wentworth. A young, delicate wife with no dowry and a collection of snobbish, expensive, totally douchey relatives would be a genuine disadvantage to a young sailor with no connections and no money. And that is also, in fact, perfectly reasonable.

So it’s not simply a snobbish woman dissuading a weak-willed girl who then develops a stronger sense of self through suffering and maturity. Snobbery absolutely played a part in Lady Russell’s motives—all of this would have been much less pressing if Wentworth were someone more like Colonel Fitzwilliam, who would double as a Worthy Alliance and bring powerful, wealthy relations into the picture. Anne may very well have been less swayed by Lady Russell’s arguments if she hadn’t faced uniform opposition from her family, hadn’t been so young and uncertain. But nevertheless, those arguments were largely reasonable, and in the end, Anne’s view is that she wishes she hadn’t taken Lady Russell’s advice, that she would never give the same advice, but that morally she was right to take it.

I mean, there’s a lot going on there, ethically, and the book doesn’t offer clear conclusions. (UNCLEAR ETHICAL DILEMMAS

ANYWAY, MULTIPLE PARAGRAPHS LATER, that’s not something I often see confronted, even in full-on adaptations. (Particularly, one might say. >_>) And I think it would be interesting to play with it—something where Draven/Mothma/whomever have entirely valid reasons (but also dodgy ones) for their interference, and where Cassian has a real obligation to consider their opinions, and where the killing blow (as it were) would be that he is bad for Jyn (only too easy to believe he’d find convincing!).

It’s even … like. I can definitely see Draven being profoundly unenthusiastic about his 23-y-o prodigy spy suddenly getting entangled with a 19-y-o Partisan who is also the daughter of an Imperial collaborator. But I think it’s very possible that the likes of Mothma and Draven would probably not care that much about the flings of teens and 20-somethings. The kind of concerted, intense effort leveled against Anne in Persuasion might need something more.

But Cassian, despite his sidelines in assassination and field command, is primarily a recruiter. So. Suppose that his ostensible mission is rebuilding ties with the Partisans and working out some mutual support arrangement. But in reality, the judgment of Intelligence is that the Partisans are doomed by their extreme insularity, drastic collateral damage, unclear objectives, and attraction of Imperial attention. Coordination with the Partisans is an acceptable start, but the actual goal is to draw as many of Saw’s highly-skilled fighters into the Alliance as possible before the whole organization self-destructs or gets obliterated, but without turning Saw actively against them.

Of course, it’s not a secret that the Alliance is generally out to peel off as many recruits as they can get, and ofc the Rebel agent is going to be trying to draw people into the Rebellion. But what they don’t know is that this is why Cassian is there.

Okay, anyway, this is what 23-y-o Cassian is up to. It’s a task of extraordinary trust, and he’s on guard against almost everything. But falling madly in love with Saw’s foster daughter was not one of those things. And it’d be one thing if he was just pining (it would be awful, but—), but no, this ferocious, shining supersoldier is (for some reason) also in love with him.

On top of that, they’re both very much older than their ages, but in some ways younger—they were never able to be kids, to have silly crushes, anything like that. So they’re dorky and overwhelmed and unrealistic, just swept off their feet. They hold hands and talk about … running off together? But they can’t stop fighting the Empire. Cassian would never make a Partisan, but Jyn could join the Rebellion. And then they could be together!!!

(I suspect that at heart, Jyn wants out; large-scale collateral damage is not her gig.)

Anyway, Cassian would get a very sharp reality check, because the point was to draw away as many useful soldiers as he could without completely antagonizing Saw, and wow is “seducing away his best soldier and, oh yeah, DAUGHTER” not included in that description. Of course, he’s horrified because It’s Not Like That, but also … well. Yeah.

And while Jyn is brashly sure that of course she’ll succeed at whatever she does, she always has, he’s increasingly doubtful that she’d be at all happy in the Rebellion. The Partisans are her family, the only life she knows; she doesn’t know anyone else in the Rebellion at all, she’d chafe under the command structure, she’d lose everything, and have nothing to counterbalance it all but one tormented spy.

They’re not going to demand that a talented soldier not join the Rebellion, of course, or involve themselves in the obvious affair. But they don’t have to; once persuaded, Cassian does the dirty work himself. He persuades Jyn to stay with the Partisans after all, breaks things off, and leaves, having carefully arranged for a good number of Partisans to defect to the Rebellion over the next several months. Jyn, naturally, feels furious and betrayed (all the more after some of her friends leave).

And that’s where it starts, lol. Now I’m thinking—like, taking ‘little sister’ and running with it, Sophy would be Baze and Admiral Croft would be Chirrut (AMAZE). While I don’t see Cassian getting winded by a long walk à la Anne, he could be hiding an injury or something that Jyn notices (and hates that she notices, and hates more that nobody else does).

I don’t know at all who would play the Louisa Musgrove role (it’s not my favourite element of the plot tbh, but kind of necessary). And I don’t know how the scene with Wentworth helping Anne with her nephews would play out but it needs to happen, it’s my favourite. And of course the gender politics wouldn’t really work. (Though Wentworth/Jyn coming to their senses via competence kink would, lol.) And we’d need some terribad teammates or something to serve the role of the Elliots.

(Draven would really be the best bet, if not already taken as the Lady Russell. That really works best as someone that Cassian is actually close to, though, which is… like, nobody. And honestly, Lady Russell is the only person Anne is close to, but—OMG, KAY. IF KAY IS LADY RUSSELL … JESUS. HAHAHA WOW. That’d even work with Kay and Jyn being super chilly at each other, and Cassian could overhear Jyn talking ~idly~ with some of the rest of the team about a mission that went hilariously-in-retrospect wrong thanks to Rebel!Mary Musgrove this shitty commander. They’d have much rather had Andor, since SpecOps do serve under Intelligence now and then, but couldn’t get him. The rumour was that [x] talked him out of it. And Jyn’s like, huh, he’s very easily persuaded, isn’t he? And they’re … not really? That damn droid and direct commands are pretty much the only thing that stops him.)

((For bonus awful: during their brief honeymoon phase, the idea had been that Jyn would join up with SpecOps and once he made captain, they could build a joint Intel/SpecOps team.))

Oh, and Benwick is a former Partisan who was in love with a civilian in Jedha who died before they could settle down. I think the Harvilles joined the Rebellion (probably Cassian’s not!recruits, in fact). Also, there definitely needs to be a way of working in the ‘even when hope is gone’ speech (though as above, the gender politics don’t work at all).

Ha, even the ‘I should not have known her’ slam could work? I mean, it’s absurd to talk about Cassian as ~faded~, but he is definitely prematurely aged, and Jyn could easily make a snide remark about hardly recognizing him.

I can’t see Jyn writing anything so melodramatic as Wentworth’s letter, but it’d be sort of hilarious if she types up her vision into a datapad and then is trying to figure out a way to casually leave it lying around, but not so casually that Cassian doesn’t notice. (As if, but Emotions.)

#ishipallthings #respuestas #plotbunnies!#/#//#///#////#star wars #persuasion #otp: welcome home #it'd be really involved if you want to match persuasion at all closely (which i would)#(i'm still trying to think of something for the musgrove children bc i'd really want that #only it couldn't be actual children #but something cassian could reasonably be responsible for and handles well which is in fact someone else's job #and jyn running interference is the first point where things warm up again)#(honestly it could probably be wiring a ship or repairing droids or something—something relatively urgent)#(heh it honestly works best if he's actually not the ranking member and has to answer to. like. a major? that's the mary)#(he's technically on leave. aka sent along to make sure the major doesn't fuck anything up)#(bonus if the shitty major is actually really good at something and genuinely respects cassian #he's just an awful commander and a frequent asshole #and lazy af #when it comes to anything outside his own specializations #though he enjoys the partisan raids to a disturbing extent and is all THIS is what we should be doing!!!#i think he (the major) has some little troll of an astromech that he cares about but is unintentionally awful to #or... whatever kind of droid would be appropriate- but cassian has to keep restoring data etc and the droid is a /pain/)#(jyn comes in just to see it zap him and she's like... seriously? the fuck is this little monster)#(there we go. musgroves!)#inverted persuasion au #jyn erso #cassian andor

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flcshbanginarchive-blog · 8 years ago

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Five times kissed 8)

kissed

i )

truth be told? he didn't care much for the strike commander. not that he disliked him, per se — he brought up the same level of annoyance just about anyone would towards their superior, anyway, without disliking him as a person. not that he really knows him well enough for that — blackwatch might run next to overwatch, and sometimes with them, but that doesn't mean he gets to run into the commander an awful lot of times, the most he did is when gabriel happens to have him around when morrison wants something from him. (gabe, obviously. not jesse. who'd want anything from jesse?)

jack morrison is... someone who exists. not necessarily anywhere close to the same space he occupied (or even in the same galaxy, for all it counts). he supposed the commander does a well enough job, and the few times he had run with overwatch he'd given clear enough orders, easy enough to follow, and gabe likes him, which is enough in jesse's book. he's twenty-two and as ana liked to point out, he still doesn't know shit, so running with whatever gives seems appropriate enough.

(nobody asks for his opinion, anyway. so what if he found the older man oddly attractive? nobody ever had to know.)

and even if someone did ask, nobody ever takes him serious. so, blowing kisses in the general direction of the strike commander as he makes his way out of gabe's office, gaining irritated looks from said man?

nobody questions that. it's just jesse being jesse.

ii )

he's twenty-five, and he still doesn't know shit, and he's made mistakes. bad mistakes. one of them is currently causing a rather large amount of blood to flow freely out of his body and mix with the dirt underneath. his head feels light. maybe because he hit it when he fell after getting shot. maybe because he's bleeding out. probably both.

been an easy enough missions. the one with overwatch usually are — at least compared to the blackwatch ones. nobody expected any actual fighting to happen, he's just there to make sure nothing gets out of hand. like agents getting shot. and bleeding profoundly on the ground. that's probably exactly the sort of thing he was there to avoid, but he underestimated the situation, and it doesn't matter that the guy who put lead into his side got his fair share into his forehead if nobody comes along quickly.

he's pretty sure he asked for someone. it's hard to tell, with the dizziness in his head and the black that starts settling in on his vision. it's equally hard to make sure he did and ask another time, just for sure. he can't even tell if he presses the damn button on his comm or not. hell, for all he can make out, he's trying to phone with a frigging brick.

can't tell, either, who it is that finally comes. blonde, he makes out. probably angela. she's not been around as long, but she does a damn good job. maybe she can fix his mess.

he tries to sit the exact moment someone leans in to touch his face (whatcha gonna do, doc, check if i'm still breathin'?), lips smacked against rough leather. does mercy wear leather gloves? either way, it counts as the most awkward hand kiss he's ever given. not that he does go around and give a ton of them.

passes out while he still tries to figure out who the fuck hovers over his face there.

iii )

reyes isn't in when he moves into his office (unannounced and without knocking, as he usual does — he's pretty sure the man is slowly training him to be his second, anyway, even if it's all but official, so he spends most his day around the other man anyway), and he knows he isn't, because reyes is off to a short mission and left him to deal with smaller business, but someone else is.

his hand freezes on the door. he's not meant on walking in on morrison leaning over the desk, obviously upset. it seems odd. private, almost. it feels like something he is definitely not meant to see. (who's ever meant to see their boss in a position of.. weakness? he's not sure.)

he retreats, silently, and almost makes it before jack speaks up. tells him to stay. reluctantly, he closes the door as he moves back into the room. with years passing, they have been moving in each other's orbit more often — but he's still nowhere in a position equal to the other man. sometimes he wonders if morrison even knows his name. sometimes he wonders if he wants him to know, anyway.

turned out, reports just came in that several agents went mia. knowing the details of the mission, it was safe to assume none of them would return, at least not in one, breathing piece. turned out, it might be because of some misinterpreted data. turned out, jack didn't expect him to come around, and would retreat to gabriel's office instead of his own to have a moment to think without people banging up his door to blame him. jesse doubt anyone would. he's seen the data. they all came to the same conclusions. besides, even if overwatch did the prettier jobs, they all still knew they put their life on the line each day. willingly.

he says none of it. for once, he keeps awfully silent. he knows when words wouldn't do any good. instead, he moves to comfort — something he's done in the past, with various people.

doesn't matter if jack doesn't care about him. he's here, and touch is a soothing thing, a wonderful escape, if only for the moment.

what he feels at it is entirely irrelevant, and nothing anyone will ever ask for.

iv )

he's not been to the funeral. for various reasons.

one is that he's not even been close to swiss when it happened. a poor excuse, but one he can give himself. just as he can give himself a thousand excuses for leaving when he should have stayed. he knew something was up, was wrong. knew things weren't going as they were supposed to. instead of doing something about it — anything at all — he ran.

maybe he could have prevented some of this. maybe he couldn't. one way or another, it feels like his bones belonged beneath the earth, too. feels like he should have been there.

should have. wasn't.

another is that people are looking for him, and this, surely, would have been the first place to look at. despite his yearning for a death that didn't come (a feeling that roots in guilt, and will, ultimately, fade, albeit never entirely), this would be wrong. it'd dirty both their memory. and it'd dirty all the others that actually are there.

he wonders who's left. he wonders if anyone will ask for him. it doesn't matter. all people that did matter are below the ground now.

he comes late. months late, in fact, when he's sure nobody will check for him to come anymore. he visits either of them. spends too much time sitting in front of a stone. the ground is wet and sticks to his clothes, but that hardly registers.

before he leaves, he presses his lips against the stone. saying all the things he never would to the one alive.

cold.

just what did he expect?

v )

it's odd, he thinks.

it's odd being back at gibraltar. it's odd being back at overwatch. it's odd watching someone he mourned years and years ago move above the earth, not under. the movements are different. yet, it's recognizable, burned into his head. he didn't know immediately. but now that the realization is there, he can't fight it away anymore. he wants to punch the man. knock that stupid ass visor right of his face and yell at him. for all those years gone.

he doesn't. he has no right. he never had any. jack morrison is his own man, as is soldier 76. maybe they aren't even the same, aside from the body shared. he doesn't know. he doesn't know if he wants to know. besides, he doesn't need to — because the thing is coming off all on it's own, and if he felt sick before, he feels like dying now.

he does nothing. not because there's a lack of will, but there are too many things that paralyze him altogether. and maybe he's scared that, if he speaks up now, it'll turn out a bad dream. it'd not be the first one. mocking him. guilting him.

he just stands, and stares, and his own body betrays him. trembles. and maybe something more — maybe it started to rain. maybe that's why his face is wet. maybe.

it feels different, and similar, and a whole lot of things he cannot point out when the other man moves towards him. he wants to tell him to fuck off. he wants to tell him to get off him. he doesn't. he can't.

this time, it's jack that comforts him when instead of yelling, he lets his head drop against his shoulder. hides away from the world. hides away from jack's gaze. still, he doesn't shush away from the arm around him, or the kiss on his hair (when did he lose his hat? doesn't matter).

he doesn't know if he could, even if he wanted, so he just presses close, taking for as long as he can take.

#lifereturned #long post #cut for length #oh boy this got a LOT sadder than i intended it to #also uuuh #death tw #suicidal thoughts tw #injury tw #??? i guess????#jack tag tba.#;; SHOOT DARLING. (ask.)

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bambamramfan · 8 years ago

Text

“protagonist, audience, and critics”

Last Dead Freddie post for a while (ie, recovering pieces of deBoer’s writing that were killed by his website hack). Mostly this was a really good piece about antiheroes in prestige television, and I wanted to endorse its good points, and engage with the fundamental errors of artistic criticism it has towards the end.

I’ll post my response later, since this is enough to read on its own.

Edit: the title of the post included the word “audience” not “author”, but either could work.

That the early parts of the Golden Age of Television were dominated by antiheroes is an idea that’s by now as cliché and tired as, well, the phrase “Golden Age of Television.” From Tony Soprano to Walter White to Don Draper to the various self-destructive cops and criminals in The Wire, the rise of high-production-values, critically-lauded narrative television was attended by stories told from the perspective of people who weren’t very nice. The essayist Brett Martin’s book on this period, in fact, was titled Difficult Men. In recent years, we’ve seen a growing diversity of perspectives on HBO and AMC and the like, with more racial and gender diversity, a greater range of themes and issues, and less reliance on the tropes of antihero fiction. Thankfully, for those of us who think that art should reflect the full diversity of human experience, the obsession with those difficult men seems to have subsided.

And yet I think that, as much as the antihero has been discussed to death in recent years, the concept could stand to be connected in a deeper way to a broader context: the tangled relationship between protagonists, the audience’s empathy for them, and the moral intent of the artists who create them.

Prestige TV – a term I find viscerally distasteful, but never mind – has famously engendered a cottage industry of analysis, recaps and reviews and explainers by the thousands. The structural incentives for such coverage is obvious; high-profile shows drive clicks for publications, and the regular episodic nature of television provides writers with steady work, a reliable income source of a kind that’s essential for the career of a freelancer. And though I’ve occasionally teased producers of this stuff – how many fresh takes, really, can there be on the same episodes of television, with dozens or hundreds of people doing it? – it’s good for art and for audiences for a robust critical conversation to occur alongside these shows. Not all of the takes will be novel, interesting, or convincing. (Indeed, given the nature of things, a majority won’t be.) But communally digging around and exploring in the text will often provide us with some useful insight.

And yet it’s important to remember that the vast majority of viewers of these shows won’t engage in the text in this way. I don’t just mean that most people who watch shows don’t write or read about them. I mean that, for the average viewer, the concept of treating a show as a kind of intellectual challenge, a puzzle to be disassembled and reassembled again, probably defies the point of watching in the first place. Distraction is a very valid reason for watching television, after all, and after coming home from a long day of work, many of us naturally want to turn off the analytical part of the brain and just enjoy the straight narrative of a given series. But what happens when the series is asking you to analyze? What happens when the basic moral work of the art you’re enjoying requires a deeper consideration of the tension between what’s depicted and what morals are intended?

I want to argue that the tension between fiction as entertainment and fiction as object of analysis – the difference between consuming a story straightforwardly and reading that story against the grain for more complex moral lessons – takes on added weight when so much of what’s depicted in our popular culture is not meant to be emulated or celebrated. I’m not trying to establish some sort of hierarchy of tastes here – the first purpose of art is to entertain, and no one should ever apologize for engaging with commercial art on the level of surface enjoyment. But the prevalence of antiheroes and immoral protagonists in contemporary narrative art leaves me profoundly nervous about the actual ethical impact of such work. There’s reason to believe that too many people are taking entirely the wrong lessons from the shows, video games, and movies they love.

YouTube clips from popular shows offer obvious, depressing examples of what I’m talking about. The Sopranos is exemplary in this regard. Hundreds of clips of Tony Soprano and various other bad actors on the show are presented as role models for life, their grim pursuit of (what they believe to be) their own self-interest and their capacity for violence valorized in video titles, descriptions, and comments. A particularly egregious example states that Tony tells it like it is when it comes to what really matters: family. The clip (since removed from YouTube, likely due to copyright issues) was of a self-aggrandizing Tony Soprano waxing on about the importance of family and how family members are the only ones you can really trust. This should be, to anyone with even a minimal knowledge of the show’s plot, a moment dripping with irony and indictment: Tony is comprehensively terrible to his family. He is a lousy father, a cheating husband, and a bullying and obnoxious sibling. He tries to kill his own mother and succeeds in killing his cousin and nephew. It’s hard to imagine a point more consistently established in the show than that Tony Soprano is an awful family man.

Yet such is the power of the protagonist (and the charisma of James Gandolfini) that the person who uploaded the video and dozens of commenters were convinced that Tony’s speech amounted to the show imparting a life lesson. And this general attitude, that Tony is someone to emulate rather than to despise, is replicated again and again online, with thousands of people taking his oafish violence, sexual aggression, and total indifference to the well-being of others as some sort of exemplar of masculine real-keeping. It’s here where the power of the protagonist is truly revealed, the way that simple depiction of a character’s point of view seems to overwhelm everything else we know about them. It’s as if the human power of identification is too strong, at least in art; we forgive in our protagonists things we know should never be forgiven in real life.

David Chase, the creator of the Sopranos, has talked about this frustrating tendency himself many times, betraying his irritation with audience members who seem intent on seeing the show as little more than a wish fulfillment fantasy for those who would like to be able to whack their annoying coworkers.

In another clip that’s favored by people looking to draw life lessons on masculinity, Mad Men’s Don Draper dispenses with a young rival at his advertising firm with a cutting putdown. “I feel sorry for you,” says gifted young copywriter Michael Ginsberg. “I don’t think about you at all,” replies Draper, asserting his masculine dominance via the Principle of Least Interest. In an age when “giving no fucks” is taken as a Zen-like state of effortless superiority, this is the ultimate alpha male moment. The clip is summarized by the person who uploaded it: “Don Draper puts Michael Ginsberg in his place. He’s still the boss.”

Except that the show has gone out of its way, that entire episode, to demonstrate that Draper is thinking about Ginsberg. Incessantly. Over and over, the episode establishes that Don can’t stop thinking about Ginsberg and the threat he represents. It’s a classic tale of the wounded pride of an aging worker who feels threatened by the younger, sharper, hungrier counterpart. Sure, Don looks cool when he dismisses Ginsberg. But the limits of looking cool is one of the most relentlessly depicted themes in Mad Men, all of the sharply tailored suits and gorgeous midcentury modern design hiding alcoholism, bigotry, and failed relationships. The essential dramatic tension of the show lies in contrasting Don Draper the myth with Don Draper the reality. During the sixth season, when the character devolved deeper into addiction and failure, his façade of control and professional mastery slipping away, many devoted viewers complained that they wanted “the old Don” back – the cool, sexy, invulnerable Don. But in doing so, they were denying the central message of the show, the essential point both in plot terms and thematically: Don Draper does not exist. The ideal is not possible. Both the man himself and the icons he represents are myths. To see the show as simply a depiction of a gorgeous and powerful figure of old guard masculinity means denying its most obvious thematic message.

Reflecting on the divide between authorial signaling and audience interpretation through the example of Walter White of Breaking Bad – a truly reprehensible figure – Isaac Butler writes,

With Breaking Bad, the major, unresolved issue was the character of Walter White. What sort of man was he? And how were we supposed to feel about him? And how did the creators feel about him?…

For many watching Breaking Bad, Walter White was in a morality play, and thus would be sufficiently punished by the time the finale concluded. For an odious group known as Team Walt, Breaking Bad was wish fulfillment, and Walter would in some way be rewarded for his awesomeness. For another group—one I belonged to—Walter was the anti-hero protagonist of a classical tragedy.

A classical tragedy, that is, in the sense that the point is not the Manichean moralism of an episode of Law and Order SVU but the challenge of seeing our own potential flaws in a work of art, to better understand ourselves. What troubles Butler is the show’s moral relationship to its own characters and its audience, and in particular those who are bent on seeing genuinely evil characters as badass instead of bankrupt. And the question I constantly ask myself is whether, in a culture that has so habitually depicts violence as cool and cathartic, that group will always outnumber those who respond to violence with horror.

The point is not that we should take some sort of blanket critical approach to protagonists, but that we should recognize the complexity and nuance in their depiction. The critical reaction to Fight Club shows how both an unthinking acceptance of protagonist behavior, and an overactive judgment of same, can both sand away the subtleties that are essential a movie. Yes, indeed, there are far too many “How to Be As Cool as Tyler Durden” articles and videos online. (Step one: look as good as Brad Pitt circa 1999.) The phenomenon of fans of that movie or book over-identifying with Tyler Durden and the narrator has come in for some deserved mockery, with many pointing out that starting your own fight club – or, even worse, your own Project Mayhem – is a ridiculous exercise, one that clearly misses the satirical and critical aspects of the story. (You should make your own soap, though, it’s fun.) The entire second half of the film depicts the narrator’s gradual realization that he has become involved in something far more destructive than he imagined.

Yet it would be easy to fall too far on the other side of the equation, and to see the narrator’s distaste for the triviality and consumerism of contemporary American life as itself pathological instead of natural. Yes, the violent nihilism he and his alter ego develop in response to that culture is childish and ineffective, but we shouldn’t take that to mean that the world of corporate speak, consumerist conformity, and IKEA aren’t worth rejecting. It means that part of the point of the narrative is precisely the difficulty in channeling legitimate distaste for the way things are into productive avenues.

The last shot of the movie, pregnant with emotional power, demonstrates the closest thing to a message for how to actually live in the film: finding a partner who is equally willing to look past your own flaws to navigate a world that seems bent on destroying the things that make us feel authentically human. Endorsing the romantic ideal as a potential cure for modern disaffection isn’t particularly novel, but the execution of getting there strikes me as the basic point, the recognition of the seduction of nihilism and its impediments to real human connection. You don’t have to think the movie pulls that off, mind you – many people don’t – but failing to really parse out the nuances of the film’s relationship to its protagonist means missing its artistic foundations. The presumption that depiction means endorsement kills drama.

The film and TV writer Matt Zoller Seitz, a great critic who sometimes strikes me as too concerned with whether the films he reviews conform to contemporary liberal social norms, demonstrated the perils of a certain politicized literalism in how we treat the prerogatives of the protagonist when reviewing last year’s Ghostbusters reboot. In contrast to the workaholic women of the newer film, he chastises the original film’s leading character, Bill Murray’s Peter Venkmann, as “a deadpan hipster who fakes most of the knowledge he claims to have,” complaining that he is part of “a long tradition of anti-authority posturing by straight white male characters who act as if the world’s indifference to their happiness is a personal affront.” But what, exactly, is the alternative that Seitz would prefer? That Venkmann conform to the stuffy dictates of elite academia, which he (accurately) sees as full of bullshit? Become a Company Man, another Reaganite yuppie content to play within the system without irony? Yes, it’s definitely true that women and other marginalized groups have traditionally had less ability to subvert the social and economic structures around them. But the response to that should not be to insist that everyone play by the rules, but that we spread the privilege Venkmann enjoys to everyone. It’s a strange form of progressivism that would compel a movie character to drop his sardonic critique of the way things are and get to work on those TPS reports already.

More to the point, if Venkmann was more of a tryhard game-player, going along with the conventional plan, Ghostbusters wouldn’t be much of a movie. Of course there’s a lot of male fantasy in the original Ghostbusters; the question is whether showing such a fantasy for enjoyment necessarily entails seeing the fantasy as a goal worth pursuing. Again, there’s an implicit assumption that artistic depiction presumes that the audience should want to emulate the protagonist. Comedy is full of smirking subversives not because everyone should act like those characters – no one is that clever or funny, and not everyone can be an iconoclast – but because everyone recognizes the need for subversion, the steady drumbeat of absurdities and indignities piled on us by the systems around us.

(Seitz also, incidentally, claims that Murray’s character has an attitude of “The only part of this that excites me is the prospect of getting laid by a demon-possessed Sigourney Weaver,” despite the explicit plot point of a possessed Weaver propositioning Murray and him turning her down, which seems remarkably uncharitable for a thoughtful critic like Seitz.)

The power of identification in art leads to bad political readings of music as well. In recent years, the Beatles tune “Run For Your Life” has been singled out as #PROBLEMATIC for its threatening message to the unnamed romantic partner in the song. (This is made somewhat more disturbing by the fact that John Lennon, the song’s author and singer, admitted to abusing his wife, which is of course inexcusable.) The lyrics are indeed disturbing. What’s strange is the belief that the song, or people who enjoy it, are somehow endorsing threats or violence against women. Depiction is not endorsement, not even in music, perhaps the art form we are most likely to feel intimately inside of ourselves. Lennon felt things that would be rightfully impermissible to express directly. That’s precisely why he embedded them in his music. To argue for the legitimacy of the song as art is no more an endorsement of violence against women than singing the praises of Lolita is an endorsement of pedophilia.

The prevalence of obsession and possessiveness in songs about love reveals one of the cherished functions of art: to depict that which is human that cannot be defended by the rational mind. We are, after all, animals. We remain defiantly irrational creatures. We lust, we feel jealousy, we fantasize, we yearn for revenge, we imagine ourselves as beings of impossible power, and we do it all out of proportion with what is reasonable. My conscious mind, which is what guides my behavior, wants to be a loving and respectful partner to someone, a partner that recognizes the autonomy and independence of that someone and reacts to their adult desires for space and time apart appropriately. My emotional self is filled with an unjustifiable need to possess. That is not an attempt to rationalize or defend jealous romantic behaviors in a relationship. It is a statement of the permanent irrationality of human emotions.

When Nicki Minaj releases a music video depicting herself as a fascist dictator, to considerable controversy, her critics are misunderstanding the basic nature of fantasy. Who hasn’t imagined themselves, at times, in a position of autocratic power? We can pretend that such fantasies don’t exist, thanks to their obvious political problems, or we can express them in art where they do less harm. When Selena Gomez depicts herself as a stalker breaking into a celebrity’s home in a music video, she’s not romanticizing actual stalking but exploring the animal intensity of human emotion and its uncomfortable outcomes in truly obsessive behaviors. Romantic obsession is a commonplace in music because it is in music where those powerful, ubiquitous human emotions can be explored safely.

The contemporary attitude that we must run all of our thoughts and feelings through a political litmus test before we express them in art simply means that many shared thoughts and feelings will go undiscussed. The heart is not woke, and it never will be, and to remove that which is unconsciously felt but consciously impermissible from art simply leaves us less aware of the human condition. Worse, such a condition leaves us bereft of the kind of understanding we need to navigate our tangled feelings for the Tony Sopranos – the ability to recognize that the power fantasies we might enjoy while watching such characters are natural, but that actually valorizing those behaviors is contrary to the public good.

I’m not too worried that the average viewer will take up a life of crime in emulation of Tony Soprano and Walter White, though I cringe to think of how such unthinking appreciation of them deepens the association between masculinity and the capacity for violence. I’m far more worried about our continued inability to recognize the ethical failings of the wealthy and the system that empowers them. Our culture is rife with depictions of wealth that straightforwardly valorize money and those who have it, the shameless promotion of luxury on HGTV and celebrity gossip magazines. Lots of movies and television shows attempt to correct for that by showing the moral rot and personal destruction underneath all that ostentation. But sometimes, the depiction of wealth and glamour is so emotionally compelling that the critical and satirical elements are undone. This is the Wolf of Wall Street conundrum.

I have no doubt that Martin Scorsese and the others involved in the production of the film intended to indict Jordan Belfort and his actions. But I don’t think they achieved such an indictment artistically. When the film’s defenders argue that it was intended as a critical depiction, they’re defending intent rather than execution, which is no more useful than defending a film’s intent at realism, emotional catharsis, humor, or drama. Scorsese’s work has always drawn from the productive tension between how arresting his characters are and how destructive their behavior is. At its best, this leads to a kind of fascinated revulsion, the way that Travis Bickle is both a contemptible figure and an impossibly magnetic one, the light in which the glamor and cool of Howard Hughes in The Aviator were cast by the intensity of his mental illness. For me, The Wolf of Wall Street simply didn’t provoke that same queasiness; the cars were too fast, the suits too well-tailored, the women too hot, the glee on the part of Jordan Belfort too palpable. The intent may have been satirical, but a cursory examination of the internet’s collective opinion on the film shows that for many of its ardent fans, its effect was salutary. And we really don’t need more affection for Wall Street sharks.

You can, of course, argue that Fight Club fails in the same sense, or that Wolf of Wall Street actually achieves its critical intent. At some level we are simply talking about differing subjective takes on the quality of different works of fiction. And you might well ding me for arguing both ways at once – saying that audiences need to do the work of excavating implied critiques of protagonist behavior and also that creators have a responsibility to make those critiques apparent. If nothing else, I am saying that the role of the protagonist seems to inspire deep sympathy regardless of the actions depicted, particularly over the very long haul afforded by a television series, to a degree that many artists seem unprepared for. I imagine this power is even more compelling in video games, where the player literally directs the main character through the story, occupying their point of view. And in a critical world where more and more people are explicitly subordinating aesthetics to politics – where more and more critics are erasing any distinction at all between a work’s aesthetic value and its perceived effectiveness in delivering progressive political morals – the relationship between what is depicted and what lessons are imparted become even more fraught, more pregnant with meaning. We should take care with such things.

The sophisticate’s take on this question has typically been to insist that no artist should be held to account for the misreading of their audience, and of course I agree, in a limited sense. Still, I am at this point profoundly ambivalent towards the concept of the antihero or unsympathetic protagonist in art. These tropes have been mined to great effect for centuries in various artistic genres and media, and I value much of that work. But the consistency with which devoted fans of antihero fiction completely miss the thematic purpose of that fiction makes it hard for me to enjoy it, these days. Authorial intent is, obviously, contested and uneasy ground, and getting invested in parsing it rarely a productive activity. But I cannot help but observe the frequency with which implied moral positions in contemporary artwork seem to completely bypass large parts of their audiences, often to the point of leaving them with the exact opposite lesson that was seemingly intended.

Perhaps, then, the exhaustion with antiheroes and flawed protagonists came at just the right time. Perhaps the fad fizzled out when it most needed to. There will always be antiheroes, and I will no doubt find myself following with interest the stories of protagonists who are not good people. But simple depictions of flawed characters attempting to do their best for others and acting in ways we associate with morality seems like fertile ground. Hell, at this point, the story of good people doing good might seem downright subversive.

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