#advice from a person who survived her twenties | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 2 years ago

Text

Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

@hb8301 @that-girl-named-alex @bat-revival @dahlias-and-marigolds @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @padfooteyes @missusnora @bluebirdonafencepost @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @sarahkimtae @imjustboredso @howdoichangemynameto @hopebaker @yelenabeleovapocket @let-love-bleeds-red @maximizedrhythms @xideshiz @siriusdumblittlepuppy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @lemonivall @anisa269 @flavorofsalt @queenofshinigamis @elles-mind-palace @dragonfireandpixiedust @glitterandgoldfinds @daydreamerblues @tswiftsthings @kitkat-writes-stuff @miraclealignertlsp369 @cryztalline @im-obsessed-with-marvel @fluffiy @kotonei-molyneux @natie335 @killjoynotes @mariahossain @bellstwd

3K notes · View notes

blitz0hno · 7 months ago

Text

The reason the line "Happy or sad, why decide?" From Tear Drop sticks out to me is because it really does highlight Yuno's disdain for pity and projection

Sometimes people who think they are "empathetic" are just really stuck in projection without realizing, which is why ppl like "dArK EmPaThS" etc. use their fawning trauma as an excuse to be judgy assholes.

Like a sort of "If I was in that situation..." So like even if they Understand the Emotions they're still seeing it from THEIR pov, THEIR life experience and not the other person's.

And like. I keep thinking about how, if I want to live authentically, it's always gonna be blatantly obvious I have trauma.

But like. EVERYONE has some degree of trauma, it came free w your late stage capitalism and your parents being as dumb and scared as you are/neu i am talking like BIG picture here.

Like you can be bummed stuff happens to ppl and like bear it in mind if conflict gets difficult, but me and my system mates do NOT need pity, unsolicited advice, to be assumed attention seeking or untrustworthy etc.. I don't have bad intentions but plenty of people do so I have a survival mechanism for that. I play it close to the chest. So fucking what? Why does life have to get so complicated so fast, but we as people are expected to be simple? I can't even decide if I want to tell people what name I truly am In the moment. Sometimes I feel 35, at a time in my life when I'll be grateful if the earth is still here in my mid-twenties. I've done almost nothing and feel the weight of everything and I don't see a place for judgement in a world like that unless someone does something TRULY heinous. Preying on others, hoarding resources, abuse etc.. So who cares how I am living and getting by? Why do I have to be secretive about something that's not hurting anyone? "Good" or "bad," there are assumptions attached to my circumstances that I am not happy with at all.

This isn't like a vent or anything I just think that system or not, Yuno is in a similar predicament. She Knows she should not have to feel shame, but she does. It has been placed on her for years, so she rejects it entirely and seeks to empower herself. Living as she pleases and being a boss bitch yeah, but still having these delicate feelings that are just too complex for many people.

I feel like everyone feels that way about something

#tw existentialism #?? maybe #yuno milgram #yuno kashiki #my beloved #this is more abt me than her but I WILL dedicate a post to her EVENTUALLY i just wanna do her justice #milgram #i love milgram

49 notes · View notes

ksiondzkanexkiii · 6 months ago

Text

MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON

Found story on wattpad, neobook or tumblr

Next chapter (24)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD

John Price knew that there were many ways to go through grief, he never questioned how Jinx was going through her mourning however, he didn't like the fact that she had become more oppressive which he didn't like. And a lot, but he couldn't chastise her for going through grief he could only stand beside her in the most difficult moments and keep her spirits up.

He understood that she did not want to talk to him about the fire, she was experiencing it all quietly. However, when she did say something to him she was more abrasive than always he had a fear that she had returned to her old habits and her curiosity about the normal world and her desire to change was gone along with Eric and Ava.

He sat at the table, a mug of steaming tea standing in front of him as he stared dully at the sky outside the window. He hadn't entered Jinx's zone, hadn't gone into her room since he'd left his paints and canvas there. Garrick's advice he took to heart saw that it was probably the only way to get the teenager to open up to him without having to speak. But she wouldn't leave the room, and that's where a gigantic problem arose.

He didn't even know if she had drawn anything on the canvas, but he didn't go into her room. Or should he? He asked himself this question every morning, and his worried eyes glanced at the door of the teenager's room every time he left his bedroom. Even books no longer relaxed him, his thoughts kept drifting back to the teenager, who sat locked in her room twenty-four hours a day only coming out when she was hungry, thirsty or needed to take care of herself in the bathroom.

She didn't even wash herself, Price felt as if she had lost her purpose for wanting to socialize. And this bothered him, of course he had seen other soldiers survive the loss of a friend or even family however every time he saw these souls broken by the mortality of having their loved ones taken from them

It was tearing him apart

But he knew he couldn't change it, he regretted that he couldn't show the middle finger to death and laugh death right in the face. As long as death has a face...

He knew when he needed to give someone space to express his emotions and he knew when to approach and support a person in a given crisis situation, but now? He didn't know, at the same time a part of him wanted to help the teenager and the other part of him was screaming in his ear to take the plunge and he began to further socialize the teenager hard, the sooner he finished and social services considered her , "safe" the better for him

Regain peace at home

The tea that stood in front of him had already cooled down, but his fingers were still tapping deafeningly against the porcelain of the mug. His thoughts drifted away and his blue eyes only told how far away he was on the sea of thoughts, but his attention did not escape the fact that the door of the teenage girl's room was opening. He had questions to ask her, although he did not think too much about them, but his head was cluttered with thoughts

He listened to the quiet footsteps of the teenager, who was heading toward the kitchen probably to brew herself another batch of tea, which apparently calmed her down and at the same time make herself something to eat. John swallowed his saliva hard as he tore his gaze away from the window to look at the teenager, who stood like a pillar of salt in the doorway from the kitchen, staring at him.

And she almost felt stupid, she disheveled and unwashed stood before him in dirty clothes the same ones she had four days ago. Her breath could have killed even a rodent. The blue shirt that accentuated her blue eyes, which were now without any sparkle, not even the faintest glint of mischief.

As if someone had erased that glint in the eye

Her skin was paler than usual due to the fact that she didn't get out of the house much, Price let her stay home he didn't want to send her to school when she hadn't gone through mourning yet and not sure how she would behave he feared some kind of fight caused by her not being able to keep her emotions in check. Her red plaid pajama pants covered her legs, which were crossed as if she was holding her urine to keep from peeing in her pants

And him, sitting there in fresh clothes and a freshly trimmed beard those two familiar mutton patches on the side of his cheeks connecting under his mouth and nose. That familiar beard almost made Jinx curse and dream at night, at the same time he was dreaming for her and behind every dream she called a nightmare she could find solace in his arms.

However, by no means will he admit that he needs help, the first rule of the street

No one cares about your feelings

Street rule number two

Don't trust anyone and they will leave you sooner or later anyway.

He sat there dressed in a navy blue short-sleeved shirt that hugged his muscles to show them off even more, he was wearing short shorts. His body glowed with sweat as if he had just returned from a workout

Did he go jogging without her?

They looked at each other quite awkwardly, she began to play with the hem of her shirt as she automatically began to make herself something to eat and put water on for tea. She did this automatically without even noticing how her muscles were tense, her spine was straightened like a taut rope, the air from her lungs escaping so fast that she couldn't keep up with taking in a new portion.

- Jinx? - called out quietly the captain watching her whether she liked it or not, he leaned in gently and crossed his arms on the table. He watched her carefully nothing escaped his watchful eye sometimes he felt like a falcon looking out for its prey, but he didn't want the teenager to feel like she was prey.

In a way she was, but he knew Jinx didn't want to be treated that way. Maybe he hadn't known her long and a few months... Well maybe it had been close to a year or so since he had arrived, he didn't even know when her birthday had been

Why did he think of her birthday now?

He had no clue, however, this question interested and slightly frightened him, because did he miss her birthday?

When the teenager did not respond and still made food he decided to use a louder tone - Jinx - he called out louder gently tilting his head hoping to see her face walker side profile, but nothing of that she stubbornly stood with her back to him. As he watched her a familiar smell of nicotine and smoke hit his nostrils, he now did not have a cigar within reach even in the morning he had not lit a cigar so it was not from him that the smoke stank

- Jinx - he called out even louder he saw the teenage girl's shoulder blades almost join together as she tensed up - Look at me - he commanded her, her hair was greasy and her curls were tousled more than usual even the messy bun at the base of her neck could not mask the fact that her hair was in a deplorable state

She did not obey his command - I told you something - he continued to order and she still ignored him even did not say anything back to him as she had been in the habit for the last few days, he gently sighed giving up trying to order her he adopted a different strategy - I want to help you Jinx and you push me away - he began to speak more calmly watching her

- I don't need your help Price," she almost hissed these words and her voice didn't even resemble a whisper, but it was all softly spoken, "I don't need anyone's help," she added finally looking over her shoulder at him

She sent him a brief meaningful look. She may have said that she didn't need help and pretended to be tough, but deep down she felt lost and alone, that all good things would one day end again, and she didn't want to let him closer to her so that he wouldn't have to die in agony. She brought bad luck and did not want to put this curse on him

So she went back to her cold walls that she had torn down at the time of meeting him, of course she had the desire to socialize especially after she met a group of friends however now that two of her five friends had died she no longer felt the need to socialize.

- Everyone needs help at some point," Price began to say and Jinx merely giggled humorlessly at his words

- Only the weak need help," she muttered under her breath, speaking more to herself than to him. The captain furrowed his eyebrows of course he heard her words he was not old enough not to understand her words

- Even the strongest needs -

- Support? -

- Yes -

- Then push this putty to everyone else and not to me - she growled throwing the knife on the countertop turning on her heel to look at him, the captain raised an eyebrow hearing her tone of voice. He didn't like it - I'm too old to hear it anymore," she added after a moment much quieter than before.

The captain was silent for a while his thoughts drifted away and the roles were reversed now Jinx was looking at his reaction however after a while she turned around to continue making herself food. She wanted to get it over with and hole up in her room again, she didn't realize that the captain was pondering whether Jinx smoked he could still smell the cigarettes.

After a while he moved his chair away from the table where he was sitting, raised his body Jinx did not pay attention to what the captain was doing she was too focused on slicing the cucumber. The captain simply leaned over her pulling his nose hard, it was from her that he smelled cigarettes and now he had confirmation that his nose was not deceiving

- You've been smoking - muttered the captain just above her ear, stated such an obvious fact that Jinx's face dropped, but she still guffawed that she didn't care and that she didn't know what he meant - Jinx. He smells cigarettes - stated again such an obvious fact that Jinx did not know what lie to come up with, she had to think fast

- Something is wrong with your nose," she muttered under her breath, "I didn't smoke and even if I did I don't have anything to smoke with," she sent him a bored look, not at all that when she went to set fire to Eric's hideout on the way she robbed the drunk people she saw along the way, Jinx seemed to have dreamed it however, when she woke up the next morning the guitar was still under the bed and in her pockets she had a lot of wallets and packs of cigarettes sometimes she came across a full pack sometimes a few cigarettes were missing.

- Jinx," growled the captain dangerously, his irritation boiling over, even the tips of his ears turned red as he tried to restrain his anger, "Don't make an idiot of me," he threatened her, standing behind her and looking down at her, an unpleasant cold shiver ran down Jinx's back as she felt his gaze on her.

The same assessing gaze she felt every time she opened the window and lit a new cigarette, she may have been alone in the room at the time however it felt like someone was watching her from the shadows. Somehow she didn't care about it however it wasn't one of the most pleasant, but for the unhealthy nicotine smoke she ignored it. As long as she delivered a new dose of harmful homes

- I'm not making an idiot out of you, I wouldn't even dream of it," she sneered, snorted under her breath without amusement setting cucumbers on the sandwich she had made for herself, she was already about to take the plate with the sandwiches when the captain's hand found itself on her forearm

- You're not going," he muttered, "We'll talk first," he added after a moment, he did not give her room for discussion brazenly snatched the plate with sandwiches from her hands to put them back on the counter and he led her over to the chair where he had been sitting moments earlier, "I don't hear you say the word , "No," he said as he himself sat down at the table opposite her

He leaned forward and crossed his arms again on the table top she sat across from him quite awkwardly, her hands were under the table her nails were effectively finding dry cuticles to pluck. Stupid nervous habit, she must quit it at some point.

- Then what do you want from me? - She sighed looking unhappy that she was put in this situation, she may have been more oppressive and snarky, but sometimes she didn't even have the strength to pretend to be , "strong" and , "brave" anymore if she had to be like that at all

- Talk," the captain raised an eyebrow, "That difficult? - He asked sarcastically at the same time rhetorically, the teenager only rolled her eyes. She raised her hands and rested them on the table top to push off and stand up

- Sit down - ordered her captain and the British accent became even more apparent than usual, this only showed how annoyed he already was. The teenager only looked at him with a raised eyebrow, however, she still stood, but did not make any move, not even a word was spoken - I ask for something - he added after a while John's blue eyes looked at her as if they were about to kill her

If sight could kill

She would be dead by now

- This request and so I will not listen to your request," she smiled innocently, when she finished her sentence, she was about to grab the plate of sandwiches again

- Jinx - Price hit the table with a song, causing the teenager to jump up, if that was the way things were going he was not afraid to use more drastic measures. Of course he wouldn't hurt her, he had no intention of doing so he only intended to scare her - Sit down - he growled again

Jinx pondered for a moment more, she could take a chance and play on his nose still not listening to him. As if she had earplugs in her ears, she looked into his eyes that could kill her with their sharpness she bit the inside of her cheek she was torn between the choice of listening to him and optionally not getting punished

Disobey it and have problems later

When she looked at the door she was considering the two options and the captain knew it well - If you don't listen," he began to say and she tore her gaze away from the door frame to send him a cold look

- If you already want to threaten me come up with something interesting," she shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't care, everything drains out of her so easily. She ignores everything - Something that will encourage me to stay and listen to your boring monologue - she added after a while again sending him an innocent smile and rabbit holes made on her freckled cheeks.

Her freckles were made more visible by the fact that she didn't get out in the sun as often, her skin also faded. The captain swallowed his saliva imperceptibly his fingers tangled against each other causing him to join his hands and press them together so hard that his knuckles turned white, he considered his every word he had to choose wisely so that she would listen to him

- He just wants to talk, I'm not asking for much Jinx," he began to speak in a tedious voice and Jinx looked up at him, standing over the table and critically assessing his every word

- Do you say that to every one of your soldiers? - she asked curiously and the Captain was slightly taken aback by this he expected any question, but not necessarily a question about the army - Because if so - Jinx dragged out her words muttering at the end, she really didn't care, she wanted to hear words that would be given only to her.

Words that only she could hear, she did not want to hear the words spoken to everyone.

- If you let me finish, you'll see," insisted the captain hiding his annoyance at being interrupted again, he hated being interrupted, he was used to being listened to and not asking unnecessary questions, after all he is a captain, but Jinx was never interested in his military rank for her he was just a crutch that caused the opening of a new path, which was called "normal life for a teenager".

The only thing she was grateful to him for was that he let her go to school even if Annalise annoyed him... and along the way she also annoyed Jinx, but she was grateful to them for giving her the chance to go to school and finally learn to write. Maybe it wasn't easy at first because she didn't know how to write so she copied the movements of her classmates or friends optionally the teacher if he happened to be writing on the board and not dictating into a notebook

She was grateful to the teachers who wrote on the blackboard what they were supposed to transcribe and not dictate, how many times it saved her skin until she finally learned to write reasonably. She didn't know how to write, because what use is it to anyone living on the street?

Living on the street, you worry about whether you will have food for the next day or whether you will die of hypothermia in the winter.

- Well, go ahead, I'm turning into a listener," she mocked, moving her left leg gently backwards with her right hand placed on her chest leaning forward as if she was bowing to him as if he were the highest aristocracy. She sent him a mocking smile at the same time the captain snorted seeing her behavior

- I don't know how you feel," he began to speak calmly, "But he wants to help you," at these words Jinx rolled her eyes, how many times she heard these words until she wanted to vomit when she heard these words, "I can't let you rot in this room, he wants to know what's going on," he said in a stern tone seeing her behavior

He was not blind or stupid, he saw the dangerous glint in her eye as if he was treading on a thin line to fully annoy her - Besides," he pointed his finger at her, a little rudely thought the teenager, "You stink of cigarettes, you pretend that you did not smoke them however, you smell of smoke," he accused her quietly sighing and shaking his head in disappointment

- You could have masked the stench of smoke better is first of all," he began to enumerate even lifting his finger up, after a while he added another finger, "Secondly, you don't leave the room, and when you do you go to the bathroom or the kitchen," he continued to enumerate and Jinx's muscles were getting stiff and ready to run away

She felt like a deer ready to run away - What are you getting at Captain? - she asked quietly, but dangerously, as if she wanted to bark out to him the most vulgar words she could get out of herself - What else do you want to reproach me with? - she almost growled at him and her blood was boiling

- He wants to help, I already said that," he sighed, "But I was waiting for you to give me a signal when to help you however you don't do that," he explained calmly pulling the cup towards him, with the tea he had left on the table earlier, the tea was already icy but still drinkable he took a small sip gently contorting his face as the cold drink invaded the inside of his cheeks

- She doesn't need it," she wanted to continue her statement but the captain raised his hand and silenced her

- Help? - he mocked - Yes you said it already - he teased her, looking at her briefly and then at the mug of tea he held in his hand, the quiet clink of the clatter of the porcelain against each other cut the momentary silence that had formed between them - If you want to lie, lie to someone else - he looked at her seriously

- But don't lie to me. Remember this - this time it was he who sent her an innocent smile in the shape of a "v" Jinx only twisted her lips in a grimace hearing the words of the captain and seeing his innocent smile - What is bothering you Jinx? - he asked straightforwardly, effectively making Jinx even more eager to leave the kitchen, but her muscles seemingly ready to escape did not even move an inch or a walker a millimeter

- Nothing is bothering me Captain," she muttered and her mixed accent was more audible to the captain, he knew she was lying. The purple bags under her eyes did not match her at the same time it was the sunken eyes that told him the whole story of what the teenager was going through

- Your mouth says something else, your body language says something else and your appearance says something else Jinx," he sighed looking down at her, "You can lie even to yourself thinking everything is fine," he leaned back and when his back met the back of the chair he crossed his arms over his chest

- Fuck," whispered the teenager her arguments were running out, as much as she wanted to end the conversation something told her that this was the last moment she could beg for help. She wondered whether to take advantage of this fact or not, she looked towards the window that was next to them opposite the door that only called her to run away like a frightened deer, she looked at the sky and the birds that flew in the clear sky.

Heaven was supposed to help her make decisions however she still felt she could not choose

- Far from hens," muttered the captain shrugging his shoulders, the teenager had to suppress the urge to giggle, "Let yourself help Jinx, I understand that," he was about to continue his statement when Jinx interrupted him again

- You don't understand shit Price," she growled again and her irritation which moments ago had stopped bubbling like the worst storm in her blood suddenly returned with redoubled force. If ships swam in her veins she was sure that the waves of blood would have sunk every ship of peace she had inside her

- Then enlighten me," he leaned forward again looking at her defiantly, "Since you're already in a position to shout at me then you're in a position to tell me what's bothering you," he said in a quiet but threatening tone, if Jinx had been smaller surely her blood would have frozen and fear would have taken over her helm causing her to flee.

If sight really could kill she would be dead, she repeated over and over in her head, but that was the truth.

Even if she wanted to deny it, she couldn't

Into a big swamp I've gotten myself into, thought the teenager looking around looking for some support in the furniture her mind was working a hundred miles an hour and the answers with which she could answer the captain multiplied so much that she couldn't keep up to judge which ones were perfect to say

- You won't understand anyway," she muttered looking at the sandwiches that were still on the kitchen counter, she had even lost her appetite for them already, "No one ever understands so why do you ask," she asked this time and not the captain, John only sighed heavily

- Don't turn the cat on its head," he threatened her quietly, "You had the urge to shout at me, you did it so let this head of yours finally understand that I'm trying to help, but you won't let me," he continued to say quietly and threateningly until Jinx got goosebumps

- Maybe he does not want your help? - she raised an eyebrow and forced herself to bring out the most innocent voice, she sent him a brief smile - Not always everyone wants help, you are a captain haven't you learned this rule? - she raised her eyebrow looking down at him while standing

- Sit down and talk to me," he commanded her and his tone of voice didn't change Come on, the captain's blue irises expressed more than just worry for her, his eyes showed something more than a cold side, but she couldn't work out what the emotion behind the coldness was.

Jinx swallowed her saliva hard but listened to him slowly sat down on the chair again sitting opposite him. She sat stiffly still ready to run away, blinking frequently and quickly another sign that she was stressed her leg under the table jumped nervously

- How are you feeling? - he asked looking at her it was a question one of a million he wanted to ask her, but he wanted to start gently. Without arguing come on and that goal failed

- Excellent - Sarcasm flowed out of Jinx's mouth as easily as if she was spreading butter on a bread roll, but even that was coming her way reluctantly - That's not what you want to ask right? - She asked raising an eyebrow she wasn't stupid she knew the captain was going to ask something she didn't like, but he wanted to start slow

- What do you want to lead to Captain Price? - She asked wrinkling her eyebrows and leaning forward to get a better look at him, he raised his hand and scratched at his beard gently crooking his arm - Something interests you, but you are afraid to ask - she mocked

- He wants to know if this fire was not your fault," he said seriously, Jinx at first thought he was joking after all why would he ask here? But when she looked at him like that she saw that he was not joking and his question was serious

Small but clearly blue eyes watched her reactions, which were quick and did not hide her surprise at first her eyebrows furrowed just enough for the wrinkles to remain then she raised her eyebrows with a mocking smile, but when she realized she was not joking her face returned to a stony side

Expressionless

Emotionless

- The fire department says there was arson," he explained, speaking quietly so as not to frighten her at the same time she wanted to look serious on the other hand her muscles were tense enough that one wrong word or move and she would run away like a frightened reindeer

- The firefighters found you and the Rodriguez siblings in the kitchen you suffered the least - he continued this time looking at her injuries her left side of her body her arm, abdomen, hand was in a bandage to protect the burns from infection and environmental contamination - Why? -

Jinx was silent at first, she thought it was an unfunny joke or some silly dream. However, it wasn't, and that scared her, of course she had her share of petty crimes like theft or robbery... well that's all she did, but to set fire to her friends' house? And cause their deaths? She would never go to something like that

It was funny to watch how she could not get a word out of herself, how she was speechless - Jinx answer to the question - he spoke as calmly as he could however anxiety was bubbling in his veins, what if it was all true? However, her reaction did not indicate this.

- That what I'm asking? - She snorted still unable to believe what he was accusing her of - You want to tell me that it was my fault that the fire broke out? - she scoffed, still feeling as if she was dreaming she purposely pinched her arm to see if she was dreaming, but she was awake - You've got to be kidding me - she scoffed

- If so, this is extremely not funny," she indignantly looked at him her mind was darkened by grief at the same time she was annoyed that he accused her of such a thing.

- The fire department says otherwise," he leaned forward as he spoke these words, tilting his head to the side he raised his hand to scratch his beard, "Jinx, sooner or later they will get to who set fire to the Rodriguez house, but he wants to know," she did not let him finish

- Did I do it? - she mocked snorting under her breath, leaning back. She had stopped trusting him, if she ever trusted him at all - No, no, I think I'm asleep - this situation really felt like some kind of absurdity to her, something pulled out of the blue, something that shouldn't be.

- I'm serious Jinx," he almost growled at her feeling her mocking him, mocking him. He watched this as she almost threw herself on the chair like an offended five-year-old child could not find a comfortable position felt uncomfortable and wanted to run away

- And I'm serious that I didn't do it," she replied crossing her arms over her chest pretending that it was all draining out of her

That it doesn't move her

That it's all really about wanting to put her back in juvie

Her eyes widened at this thought, and if in fact this is the point? If in fact the captain doesn't want her here anymore and wants to get rid of her by the way driving her into a bigger corner of guilt. Her face dropped and her eyes darkened more she had no desire or strength to cry in front of the captain come on her mind wanted to cry to get it out of her she couldn't in front of John, her body was still tense to the point that her knuckles had turned white.

She clenched her jaw hard she could almost feel her tooth crumbling and the Captain could hear it, she swallowed her saliva hard, but the lump in her throat did not allow it. Her throat was dry just as her lips almost immediately demanded water

- You want to put me back in the reformatory," she stated matter-of-factly, Price let the air out through his mouth twisted in disbelief this conversation was making him more and more tired. And the teenager's conjecture sounded irrational to him at the same time he could not blame her for thinking so

He shook his head - No, but the fire department and the police are checking the clues," he warned her, "And supposedly you acted suspiciously," he argued and the teenager increasingly did not believe him they wanted to frame her for something she had not done. She had honor she would never burn alive her friends even her enemies

She would never kill a man

Of course coincidences walk on people, in an accident she may have inadvertently caused people could die, but setting fire to someone's house? Even if she was with the cartel, she didn't do it

She only looked at

- I behaved normally," she defended herself almost hissing at him like a snake, "I just sensed that something bad was going to happen," she looked at her hands, which rested on the table top and her fingers intertwined with each other, she had the right feeling. If only she had listened to that voice in her head Eric and Ava would probably be alive

- Who told you that? - She asked curiously tearing her gaze away from her injured hands, since the fire she had acquired the ugly habit of picking at her skin, her fingertips gently bleeding and made tender by the fact that they were not wearing protection and the unruly cuticles protruded just waiting for the teenager's teeth to try to pull them off.

- Mrs. Dorinson," he said truthfully, not missing the fact of how Jinx's hands look, "And you have a problem and he wants to help you," he continued and Jinx only rolled her eyes and groaned in displeasure

- I'm fine," she crossed her arms over her chest with her back hitting the back of the chair

- Your body says otherwise," he repeated himself, "You need help, accept it when someone offers it to you," he interrupted

He was silent for a long while watching her indignation, his face became stony of course he was expressing concern, but he was slowly getting tired of explaining it over and over again and eternally repeating himself

- Because then it will be easier? - She said what he wanted to say again, mocking him she shook her head with a dry and emotionless giggle - Forgive me Captain, but it doesn't work - she replied looking at the window and not at him

- If I let someone in then they leave me," she explained looking out the window at the birds flying by and merrily flying in the cloudless sky, "Then why do you want to? -

- Because it's my job," he defended himself with the same words as always and that and Jinx was getting bored

- Bullshit Captain - She almost shouted at him, leaning forward - We both know that - She said in a quieter almost whisper without taking her eyes off him, she was shaking emotions were bubbling in her just asking for a wrong move that will make her explode

- Say something else - she whispered - Something... that will make me consider your proposal - The captain looked at her quite annoyed, his patience was reaching its zenith and his desire to talk was subsiding. This is not how it was supposed to look - I did nothing, if there was arson by a third party it was not me - She defended herself already spoke normally not an ounce of sarcasm or derision could be found in her words

- I'll trust you on this," he muttered looking at the teenager's hands, "You're in pain," he stated matter-of-factly, the teenager at first didn't know what he meant seeing what she was looking at she hid her hands in the pockets of her pajama pants

- No," she burbled while correcting herself in the chair, she moved quite uncomfortably. The captain only smiled gently under his breath he knew that the teenager did not like to lie when she was sitting, because then she moved awkwardly.

- Be that as it may, but try not to do it again," he muttered looking into her eyes, they caught eye contact once again in this conversation she only swallowed hard

- Because what? - she asked almost with derision, but with curiosity

- Because later you will have calloused and rough fingers," he answered truthfully, but did he have confirmation of this? No. that's what his mother explained to him, so he wanted to pass it on, he always thought the woman was right

She only snorted under her breath while shaking her head - What are you acting like that for? - she raised an eyebrow, she wanted to detect a ruse in him that would herald that he wanted to extract information from her by being nice and caring to her.

She knew the trick and wasn't about to fall for it

- What kind of magic trick is this? - She went on, not paying attention to the fact that the captain's nostrils dilated and irritation began to appear in his eyes - Laswell taught you this or what? - she sent him her familiar smile, with which dimples appeared

- That's no trick Jinx," muttered the captain with a tired expression on his face, "It's called worry," he added after a moment

- How many cigarettes did you smoke? - he asked, but got no answer he could have guessed that he would get no answer only to be doused with urine

Jinx continued her tirade, but the captain was running out of patience and wanted the teenager to finally understand what he wanted to say and convey to her, apparently she was too dumbfounded to understand it

- Because if so," she interrupted her statement by a loud bang that rang out in the kitchen

- Because I'm worried about you! - shouted the annoyed captain slamming his hands on the table moving away from the table and the chair fell to the ground with sensation, when he rather aggressively got up from it, he was breathing hard as if these efforts cost him all his energy, when he looked at the teenager with a stern look after a while, however, he closed his eyes and rubbed his tired face with a heavy sigh

- Is it so hard to understand that I'm worried about you? - he added more quietly - And that he doesn't want them to lock you up for something you didn't do, if you didn't actually do it," he mumbled looking at his hands, but the teenager stood there frozen with fear, when he looked at her again he realized that the teenager had turned her back on him and with a quick step began to walk out of the kitchen leaving behind the sandwiches she had been so eager to eat earlier.

He watched her disappear behind the kitchen doorframe, heard her quick footsteps heading towards the room and then the door closing - Fuck Price - he whispered to himself - You fucked up - he stated matter-of-factly and began sipping the cold tea he had made for himself earlier

He will talk to her later

In the evening, when they had both cooled down from their emotions, if he moved after her now he would probably be met with more fire than he is now. And that was not what he wanted

He didn't have the strength for it, not even the desire to stand in front of the bigger fire that the teenager had lit however he knew she needed help. Even if she wouldn't admit it, too many times he had seen recruits call for help with their gestures rather than words.

They were closing in on themselves

They locked themselves in their barracks and didn't come out for days. As far as they could they only went out for training or to use the restroom

They ate and drank less

They often sat in their heads in the land of thoughts

And all these symptoms are now exhibited by a teenager who is more impetuous than a recruit in the army. He sighed heavily and took another big sip of cold tea

25 notes · View notes

richincolor · 10 months ago

Text

We have a whopping FOURTEEN books on our radar for today! Check them out--you've got great odds you'll find something to add to your TBR list!

All This Twisted Glory (This Woven Kingdom #3) by Tahereh Mafi HarperCollins

As the long-lost heir to the Jinn throne, Alizeh has finally found her people—and she might’ve found her crown. Cyrus, the mercurial ruler of Tulan, has offered her his kingdom in a twisted exchange: one that would begin with their marriage and end with his murder. Cyrus’s dark reputation precedes him; all the world knows of his blood-soaked past. Killing him should be easy—and accepting his offer might be the only way to fulfill her destiny and save her people. But the more Alizeh learns of him, the more she questions whether the terrible stories about him are true. Ensnared by secrets, Cyrus has ached for Alizeh since she first appeared in his dreams many months ago. Now that he knows those visions were planted by the devil, he can hardly bear to look at her—much less endure her company. But despite their best efforts to despise each other, Alizeh and Cyrus are drawn together over and over with an all-consuming thirst that threatens to destroy them both. Meanwhile, Prince Kamran has arrived in Tulan, ready to exact revenge… Layered with exquisite tension and heart-stopping romance, All This Twisted Glory is the explosive third book in the captivating, bestselling This Woven Kingdom series.

ASAP by Axie Oh HarperTeen

Sori has worked her whole life to become a K-pop idol, until she realizes she doesn’t want a life forever in the spotlight. But that’s not actually up to Sori—she’s caught between her exacting mother’s entertainment company and her father’s presidential aspirations. And as the pressure to keep her flawless public image grows, the last person she should be thinking about is her ex-boyfriend. Nathaniel is off limits—she knows this. A member of one of the biggest K-pop bands in the world and forbidden from dating, he isn’t any more of an option now than he was two years ago. Still, she can’t forget that their whirlwind romance was the last time she remembers being really happy. Or that his family welcomed her into their home when she needed it most. . . . So when Nathaniel finds himself rocked by scandal, Sori offers him a hideaway with her. And back in close quarters, it’s hard to deny their old feelings. But when Sori gets an opportunity to break free from her parent’s expectations, she will have to decide: Is her future worth sacrificing for a second chance at love?

Bless the Blood: A Cancer Memoir by Walela Nehanda Kokila

A searing debut YA poetry and essay collection about a Black cancer patient who faces medical racism after being diagnosed with leukemia in their early twenties, for fans of Audre Lorde's The Cancer Journals and Laurie Halse Anderson's Shout . When Walela is diagnosed at twenty-three with advanced stage blood cancer, they're suddenly thrust into the unsympathetic world of tubes and pills, doctors who don’t use their correct pronouns, and hordes of "well-meaning" but patronizing people offering unsolicited advice as they navigate rocky personal relationships and share their story online. But this experience also deepens their relationship to their ancestors, providing added support from another realm. Walela's diagnosis becomes a catalyst for their self-realization. As they fill out forms in the insurance office in downtown Los Angeles or travel to therapy in wealthier neighborhoods, they begin to understand that cancer is where all forms of their oppression Disabled. Fat. Black. Queer. Nonbinary. In Bless the A Cancer Memoir, the author details a galvanizing account of their survival despite the U.S. medical system, and of the struggle to face death unafraid.

Bright Red Fruit by Safia Elhillo Make Me a World

An unflinching, honest novel in verse about a teenager's journey into the slam poetry scene and the dangerous new relationship that could threaten all her dreams. From the award-winning poet and author of HOME IS NOT A COUNTRY. Bad girl. No matter how hard Samira tries, she can’t shake her reputation. She’s never gotten the benefit of the doubt—not from her mother or the aunties who watch her like a hawk. Samira is determined to have a perfect summer filled with fun parties, exploring DC, and growing as a poet—until a scandalous rumor has her grounded and unable to leave her house. When Samira turns to a poetry forum for solace, she catches the eye of an older, charismatic poet named Horus. For the first time, Samira feels wanted. But soon she’s keeping a bigger secret than ever before—one that that could prove her reputation and jeopardize her place in her community. In this gripping coming-of-age novel from the critically acclaimed author Safia Elhillo, a young woman searches to find the balance between honoring her family, her artistry, and her authentic self.

Daniel, Deconstructed by James Ramos Inkyard Press

A nerdy high schooler learns to embrace his main-character energy in this witty and heart-healing ode to movie tropes, meet-cutes, and LGBTQ+ love. Photographer and film buff Daniel Sanchez learned a long time ago that the only way to get by in an allistic world is to mask his autism and follow the script. Which means he knows that boisterous, buff, and beautiful soccer superstars like his best friend, Mona Sinclair, shouldn’t be wasting time hanging out with introverts who prefer being behind the camera. So when Daniel meets a new classmate, Gabe Mendes, who is tall, mysterious, nonbinary, and—somehow—as cool as Mona, Daniel knows exactly how this is going to play out. Mona and Gabe will meet cute, win their nominations for Homecoming Court, and ride off into the sunset together. Daniel just needs to do a little behind-the-scenes directing. But matchmaking means stepping into the mystifying and illogical world of love, dating, and relationships, where nothing is as it seems and no one knows their lines. And when Daniel finds himself playing a starring role in this romance, he’ll question everything he thought he knew about himself and his place in the world.

The Girl, the Ring, & the Baseball Bat by Camille Gomera-Tavarez Levine Querido

Rosie: Capricorn. Does great in class. Wants nothing more than to get into the prestigious Innovation Technical Institute and kiss this awful school goodbye. Her talisman: a magical jacket from her mother’s past that gets people to do whatever she says. Caro: Leo. Rosie’s older sister. Always been closer to their estranged father – and always butted heads more with their strict mother. A trip to Dominican Republic for her father’s wedding leads her deep into family history that clears up any illusions about her parents she’s ever had. Her talisman: a baseball bat that fixes whatever it breaks. Zeke: Certified Triple Pisces. Up in cold-ass Jersey City living with his aunt after his grandmother dies and his father moves to London to take care of his mother. He crushes on EVERYone – he knows he’ll find happiness in love, and maybe a way out of this depression. His talisman: a manifestation stone that will make anyone fall in love with him. Rosie, Caro, and Zeke – and their talismans – find themselves intertwined in a magical, hilarious, and whip-smart Outsiders for the modern day, written by Camille Gomera-Tavarez, a 2022 Publishers Weekly Flying Start.

How the Boogeyman Became a Poet by Tony Keith Katherine Tegen Books

Poet, writer, and hip-hop educator Tony Keith Jr. makes his debut with a powerful YA memoir in verse, tracing his journey from being a closeted gay Black teen battling poverty, racism, and homophobia to becoming an openly gay first-generation college student who finds freedom in poetry. Perfect for fans of Elizabeth Acevedo, George M. Johnson, and Jacqueline Woodson. Tony dreams about life after high school, where his poetic voice can find freedom on the stage and page. But the Boogeyman has been following Tony since he was six years old. First, the Boogeyman was after his Blackness, but Tony has learned It knows more than Tony wants to be the first in his family to attend college, but there’s no path to follow. He also has feelings for boys, desires that don’t align with the script he thinks is set for him and his girlfriend, Blu. Despite a supportive network of family and friends, Tony doesn’t breathe a word to anyone about his feelings. As he grapples with his sexuality and moves from high school to college, he struggles with loneliness while finding solace in gay chat rooms and writing poetry. But how do you find your poetic voice when you are hiding the most important parts of yourself? And how do you escape the Boogeyman when it's lurking inside you?

I Hope This Doesn't Find You by Ann Liang Scholastic Press

Sadie Wen is perfect on paper: school captain, valedictorian, and a "pleasure to have in class." It’s not easy, but she has a trick to keep her model-student smile plastered on her face at all times: she channels all her frustrations into her email drafts. She'd never send them of course -- she'd rather die than hurt anyone's feelings -- but it's a relief to let loose on her power-hungry English teacher or a freeloading classmate taking credit for Sadie's work. All her most vehemently worded emails are directed at her infuriating cocaptain, Julius Gong, whose arrogance and competitive streak have irked Sadie since they were kids. "You're attention starved and self-obsessed and unbearably vain . . . I really hope your comb breaks and you run out of whatever expensive hair products you've been using to make your hair appear deceptively soft..." Sadie doesn't have to hold back in her emails, because nobody will ever read them... that is, until they're accidentally sent out. Overnight, Sadie’s carefully crafted, conflict-free life is turned upside down. It's her worst nightmare -- now everyone at school knows what she really thinks of them, and they're not afraid to tell her what they really think of her either. But amidst the chaos, there's one person growing to appreciate the "real" Sadie -- Julius, the only boy she's sworn to hate...

Infinity Alchemist (Infinity Alchemist #1) by Kacen Callendar Tor Teen

For Ash Woods, practicing alchemy is a crime. Only an elite few are legally permitted to study the science of magic―so when Ash is rejected by the Lancaster Mage’s College, he takes a job as the school’s groundskeeper instead, forced to learn alchemy in secret. When he’s discovered by the condescending and brilliant apprentice Ramsay Thorne, Ash is sure he's about to be arrested―but instead of calling the reds, Ramsay surprises Ash by making him an offer: Ramsay will keep Ash's secret if he helps her find the legendary Book of Source, a sacred text that gives its reader extraordinary power. As Ash and Ramsay work together and their feelings for each other grow, Ash discovers their mission is more dangerous than he imagined, pitting them against influential and powerful alchemists―Ash’s estranged father included. Ash’s journey takes him through the cities and wilds across New Anglia, forcing him to discover his own definition of true power and how far he and other alchemists will go to seize it.

No Time Like Now by Naz Kutub Bloomsbury

It's been one year since Hazeem's father passed away unexpectedly, and one year since Hazeem got his special ability: He can grant any living thing extra time. Since then, he's been randomly granting people more years to live: his old friend Holly, his study buddy Yamany, his crush Jack. . . . The only problem is, none of them wanted to spend any of that time with Hazeem. Now, Hazeem spends most of his days with his grandmother. When she experiences a heart attack, Hazeem is quick to use his power to save her--until Time themself appears and tells Hazeem he has accrued a time debt, having given away more life than he has left to live and putting the entire timeline in serious danger of collapse. In order to save the timeline and himself, Hazeem must take back some of the life he has granted other people. Suddenly, Hazeem is on a journey through and against time, but as he confronts the events of the past, he must confront the mistakes he made along the way. Hazeem will come to realize that when it comes to time, quality is more important to quantity--but is it too late to reclaim the life he's given away so he can really start living? No Time Like Now is a timely twist on A Christmas Carol that takes readers on a thought-provoking adventure, asking what matters most in life.

Out of Body by Nia Davenport Balzer + Bray

A high-stakes, propulsive YA thriller with a body-swap twist thoughtfully exploring themes of friendship and identity, perfect for fans of Tiffany D. Jackson. Seventeen-year-old Megan Allen has been jumping from friend group to friend group in her high school, trying on identities like outfits. Nothing ever seems to fit—until she meets LC, the adventurous, charismatic girl who appears at her favorite coffee shop one day like magic. Finally, Megan feels like she’s becoming the person she’s meant to be: someone like LC. On the night of their friendiversary, what was supposed to be a bonding experience ends in a waking nightmare. Suddenly, Megan is no longer herself. Too late, she realizes that LC has secrets—dangerous ones. Betrayed by her best friend, thrust into another girl’s life, and targeted by LC’s enemies, she must claim what makes Megan Megan to get her life back . . . or die trying.

Pangu's Shadow by Karen Bao Carolrhoda Lab

There are no second chances in the Pangu Star System. Ver and Aryl, apprentices at the most prestigious biology lab among the system’s moons, know this better than anyone. They’ve left behind difficult pasts and pinned their hopes for the future on Cal, their brilliant but difficult boss. But one night while working late in the lab, they find Cal sprawled on the floor, dead. Murdered. And they immediately become the prime suspects. Their motives seem obvious. Ver, who left her home moon to study the life-threatening disease wracking her body, had a hopeless attachment to Cal that could’ve become twisted by jealousy. Aryl, on the other hand, clashed with workaholic Cal because she valued more in her life besides research. To clear their names, Ver and Aryl put aside their mutual suspicion and team up to investigate Cal’s death. As they search for the real murderer, they uncover secrets that have shaped all of Pangu’s moons… and must decide what kind of future they really want.

Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman Inkyard Press

These sixteen stories by award-winning and bestselling YA authors center a Latinx point of view in an empowering anthology that reimagines classics through fantasy, science fiction, and with a dash of magic, for fans of A PHOENIX FIRST MUST BURN and RECLAIM THE STARS In classic stories remixed, Latinx characters take center stage Pride and Prejudice is launched into outer space, Frankenstein is plunged into the depths of the ocean, and The Great Gatsby floats to an island off the coast of Costa Rica. A shape-shifter gives up her life to save the boy she loves from an evil bruja. La Ciguapa covets a little mermaid’s heart of gold. Two star-crossed teens fall in love while the planet burns around them. Whether characters fall in love, battle foes, or grow through grief, each story will empower readers to see themselves as the heroes of the stories that make our world.

You're Breaking my Heart by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich Levine Querido

Harriet Adu knows that her brother's death is her fault. I mean, it's not actually her fault, but it still kinda is, isn't it? She would do anything to live in a world where she could take back what she said that morning. Then a strange girl shows up at Harriet's high school – a girl who loves the same weird books Harriet does, who doesn't vibe with anyone at school the same way Harriet does – and that different world suddenly seems possible. The girl speaks of a place underneath the subways of New York, where people like them can go and find a home. A place away from the world of high school, grief, cool people, and depression. A place where one may be able to bend the lines of reality and get a second chance at being a better person. Will Harriet open the door? With You're Breaking My Heart , award-winning author Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich offers a remarkable speculative novel that will hit home for anyone who yearns for that one chance to do things over.

#new releases #all this twisted glory #asap #bless the blood #bright red fruit #daniel deconstructed #the girl the ring and the baseball bat #how the boogeyman became a poet #i hope this doesn't find you #infinity alchemist #no time like now #out of body #pangu's shadow #relit #you're breaking my heart

40 notes · View notes

disturbingstar · 2 months ago

Text

Scream 3 trivia

• This film's ending reveals the true mastermind behind the Woodsboro Murders.

• Wes Craven filmed three different endings and didn't tell the cast which one he was going to use.

• Stu Macher was originally gonna be the villain of the movie, having survived his death from the first. He was the mastermind behind a plot of new killings from prison and then targeting Sidney. But this idea was scrapped due to the Columbine High school Massacre incident.

• Roman is the only killer in the franchise to have acted alone. All of the other Ghostfaces in the franchise have had an accomplice.

• Because of the Columbine massacre, the producers were pressured into toning down the film's violence. At one point, the studio attempted to demand no blood to be seen in the film at all. As such, the film is a bit more satirical and comedic than the first two.

• Neve Campbell's contract allowed her to be on the set for just twenty days, which is why Sidney has less screen time than in the other films. As a result of her role being reduced, more emphasis was put on the supporting characters.

• This is the only Scream movie where Sidney doesn't know nor meet the killer personally. The killer in Scream (1996) was Billy Sidney's boyfriend and Stu Billy's friend. In Scream 2 (1997), the killer was Mickey Sidney's college friend and Debbie Loomis Billy Loomis' mother. But in scream 3, Sidney never met Roman nor talked to him before he revealed himself.

• In Scream (1996), Tatum argues that a woman could be the killer, referencing Sharon Stone in Kôri no bishô. The guys reply that an ice pick is not the same thing. At the end of this film, Sidney stabs the killer with an ice pick.

• This is the first film where Ghostface has a new voice changer.

• Some versions of the script had Mark Kincaid getting killed in the finale.

• If Courteney Cox and David Arquette look a little tanned in the film, it was because they had just honeymooned in the Bahamas.

• The publicity stills of young Maureen Prescott, or “Rina Reynolds”, are actually early modeling photos of a young Lynn McRee, the actress who portrayed the adult Maureen Prescott.

• Another idea for Jamie Kennedy to reprise his character Randy Meeks was to have him survive the stabbing in Scream 2 (1997), his family having rescued him secretly. This was ultimately deemed to be too far-fetched so Randy was resurrected via a post-mortem video appearance instead.

• Throughout the film, Sidney can be seen to be wearing the Greek letters around her neck that were given to her by her boyfriend Derek in Scream 2 (1997), shortly before he was killed.

• Originally, Angelina's odd behavior was intended to end with her revealing she was Roman's accomplice. Sidney would have recognized her as Angela Crick, a girl from college who became obsessed with her. Roman manipulated the situation to get her cast as Sidney to fulfill his psychotic, incestuous fantasies. Gale fights with Angelina , who is later shot by Sidney. However, she survives, only to be shot to death by Sidney, mirroring Mickey's death. She then turns around and remembers Randy's advice that Roman is superhuman, only to shoot him in the head, in turn mirroring Mrs. Loomis' death. The producers found the reveal too bizarre and last minute, as well as too similar to the ending of Scream 2 (1997), so they changed the ending.

#horror blog #horror films #scream 3 #scream 2000 #horror #scream trivia #scream fandom #scream spoilers #scream franchise #scream

15 notes · View notes

cauch3mars · 1 month ago

Text

// ( rabia soyturk . cis - woman . she / her ) . ⸻ halide kutlar , a twenty six year old , has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for thirteen years . the hothead is known for being passionate and irascible and is often associated with flickering neon signs lighting up a dark room, last nights smudged eyeliner and mascara, & smoke curling upwards from a lit cigarette . in a small town where they work as a piercer at devil's ink word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that redacted .

s t a t i s t i c s .

BASICS:

FULL NAME: halide ayla kutlar.

NICKNAMES: hali.

GENDER: cis female.

PRONOUNS: she/her.

SEXUALITY: pansexual.

AESTHETICS: flickering neon signs lighting up a dark room ; last nights smudged��eyeliner and mascara ; smoke curling upwards from a lit cigarette ; an old record player spinning a vinyl ; ripped jeans tossed carelessly on the floor ; chunky silver rings adorning almost every one of her fingers ; vintage childhood photos of her parents pinned to a corkboard ; a stack of worn novels piled on a nightstand ; red lipstick smudged on a napkin ; a slamming door.

AGE: twenty five.

DATE OF BIRTH: april 7th, 1997.

ZODIAC SIGN: aries sun, scorpio moon & capricorn rising.

OCCUPATION: piercer @ devil's ink.

APPEARANCE:

FACECLAIM: rabia soyturk.

VOICE CLAIM: rabia soyturk.

HEIGHT: 5'5".

BUILD: slim.

HAIR: dark brownish red, mid back length, naturally wavy. often worn down, as ponytails & buns give her headaches usually.

PIERCINGS & TATTOOS: click for pinterest board.

OTHER DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: scar under right eye from a fight, many scars on her hands from punching things.

STYLE: click for pinterest board.

PERSONALITY:

TRAITS: +passionate, loyal, courageous, determined, resilient & bold. - impulsive, irascible, stubborn, impatient, confrontational, vindictive.

LIKES: fast cars/motorcycles, street art, spicy food, vintage leather jackets, tattoos, boxing, black coffee, horror movies & video games, cigaretts, collecting vinyl records.

DISLIKES: authority figures, bland food, emotional movies, hypocrisy, fake friends, judgmental attitudes.

FEARS: abandonment, large bodies of water.

PHOBIAS: thalassophobia : a fear of the ocean or other large bodies of water.

HOBBIES: motorcycle riding, video games, boxing, collecting vinyl records.

PET PEEVES: people who listen to their music without headphones in public, slow drivers, unsolicited advice, people who don't understand sarcasm.

FAVORITES:

ICE CREAM FLAVOUR: blue moon.

TIME OF THE DAY / NIGHT: midnight.

WEATHER: crisp fall days.

BREAKFAST FOOD: breakfast burritos.

DINNER FOOD: lahmacun.

DESSERT: chocolate gelato.

COLOURS: heather grey, crimson, burnt sienna.

ITEM: beat up old record player she inherited from her father.

COFFEE ORDER: black coffee, no sugar or cream.

PERFUME: bath & body works mahogany teakwood cologne.

b i o g r a p h y . cancer tw, death of a parent tw.

halide kutlar was born and raised in the tough streets of detroit, michigan, the eldest of four children in a turkish immigrant family. with parents who spoke little english, halide learned early on how to navigate between two worlds—acting as a translator, advocate, and caretaker for her family. when her father tragically passed away when she was only eight from a two year battle with cancer, the burden on her shoulders grew heavier. her mother, shattered by grief, spiraled into alcoholism, a series of toxic relationships, and deep depression, leaving halide to pick up the pieces.

forced to grow up faster than most, she became the primary caregiver for her three younger siblings, putting her own childhood on hold to ensure their survival. the weight of responsibility shaped halide into a fiercely independent, tough-as-nails individual, always ready to fight for those she loves, even if it means sacrificing her own needs in the process.

when it came to school, it was always clear that halide was sharp. clever and quick-witted, she had a natural intelligence, but her drive wavered, held back by a deep-seated belief that an education wouldn’t change her fate. with her future feeling uncertain and weighed down by responsibilities at home, halide’s efforts in school were half-hearted at best. at fifteen, she dropped out, deciding to pursue her ged instead. though she failed on her first attempt, her stubborn determination pushed her through, and on her second try, she passed.

around this time, her mother had finally sought help for her struggles, getting sober and stepping up again for halide's younger siblings. relieved of the burden she had carried for so long, halide moved in with her cousin in red creek, michigan, eager for a fresh start. despite the change in scenery, her fiery temper stayed with her. halide was never one to back down from a fight, and if she saw something as unjust, she wouldn’t hesitate to speak her mind—or throw a punch. it didn’t matter whether it was a guy or another girl, halide’s sense of right and wrong was unwavering, and she fought for what she believed in, no matter the consequences.

halide quickly dove into the workforce, but her fiery temperament often got her into trouble. it wasn't uncommon for her to clash with coworkers or customers, leading to her being fired from various jobs, whether it was waitressing, receptionist work, or retail. despite her efforts, it took her a while to find her niche. just when she felt like she had hit rock bottom, she landed a job as a receptionist at the local tattoo shop, devil's ink. it was here that halide discovered a newfound fascination with tattoos and piercings. though her drawing skills left much to be desired, she realized that piercing was a skill she could master.

with determination, she quickly became an apprentice to the shop’s current piercer, soaking up knowledge and experience like a sponge. now, she stands as the main and only piercer at devil's ink, turning her passion into a career and helping others express themselves through body art while simultaneously carving out her own identity in a world that had often tried to define her.

as the town of red creek is gripped by a wave of disappearances and murders, even someone as tough and battle-hardened as halide feels the weight of unease creeping in. normally unfazed by chaos or confrontation, she's found herself watching over her shoulder more often than she'd like to admit. the once-quiet town has become a place of fear and suspicion, and halide—always one to protect those she cares about—can’t help but feel the pull to do the same for her community. though she’s used to fighting her own battles, this is different. the sense of dread in the air has unsettled even her, and while she'd never admit it, the thought of losing someone to the killer’s grasp keeps her awake at night. with each passing day, the weight of the past, combined with the growing danger around her, only sharpens her instincts, making halide more determined than ever to survive and protect those around her.

h e a d c a n o n s .

halide has a serious addiction to tattoos. it doesn't help that she works in a tattoo and piercing shop. while she also has a lot of piercings, she thinks she's way more addicted to tattoos.

has a serious love for physical activity. she currently is taking boxing lessons.

halide drinks black coffee religiously, often relying on it to fuel her late-night gaming sessions or when she’s pulling long shifts at the tattoo shop.

she often changes her hair color and style impulsively, using it as a way to express herself.

halide has a soft spot for animals, particularly dogs. she rescued a doberman puppy two years ago and he is her pride and joy.

she has an eclectic taste in music, from punk rock to hip-hop, and she frequently attends live shows in her spare time. vinyl collecting is a passion of hers, with a special focus on local artists.

despite her temper, halide is fiercely loyal to her friends and will go to great lengths to protect them. she’s the first to defend those she cares about, even if it means getting into trouble.

she has an interest in the supernatural and enjoys watching horror movies and reading about urban legends, often discussing them with friends during late-night hangouts.

she occasionally attends anger management sessions, to better understand her emotions and reactions.

#( introduction ! / * 𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗸𝘂𝘁𝗹𝗮𝗿. )#redcreek.intro

3 notes · View notes

chempack · 11 months ago

Text

thinking about edith and her sister.. i don’t think i’ve posted much about her yet. her name is gretchen, she’s edith’s baby sister and only sibling. at the time of the bombs dropping edith is late twenties (around 28/29), so gretchen is early twenties. they were close as kids but once edith moved to boston — and especially once she married nate — she didn’t talk to her family often. the last time they talked was a couple weeks before the bombs; edith called gretchen for advice on what to wear to nate’s event at the veteran’s hall

(read more so i can rant freely)

eventually — not sure when, loosely after the main story? — edith discovers that gretchen survived the war as a ghoul. lately i’ve been thinking about their dynamic then. to edith, she had been faced with the sudden, definite surety that everyone she’d ever known was dead, had been bombed or irradiated or died by plain old age years and years and years ago; but at the same time she feels it’s only been a year or two (depending when they meet again) since she talked to her sister. to gretchen, it’s been 200.

in edith’s perspective, she watched her husband be murdered and lost her son and was forced to learn to fight and kill and desperately try to save her baby; in gretchen’s perspective, edith survived without having to deal with the early turf wars and the lack of resources and the radiation killing any and everything and mutating anything left. edith emerged from the vault and found new community, established herself as a leader, made new friends and family; gretchen lost her future before it could begin, has had to watch as nearly every person she meets dies while she remains, and only finds edith again because she has nothing to do but wander and ends up near the commonwealth

gretchen didn’t go to boston on purpose. by now, she doesn’t even always remember that that’s where edith had lived. her birth family is so far removed from her, through the years and the grief, while edith is still grieving

how do you deal with a baby sister who’s older than you will ever be? how do you deal with an older sister you hardly remember?

#chemtalks #sole survivor: edith #oc: gretchen schultz #i like to think that edith still remembers what gretchen told her to wear #gretchen doesn’t even remember they’d talked soon before the bombs

7 notes · View notes

chowtrolls · 1 year ago

Text

A Different Altar

Google Docs Nesseo and the Cheongs belong to @/byrdstrolls!

Mondes didn’t want to be an altar for you to martyr yourself upon. Fine, sure, you could understand that. You wouldn’t sacrifice yourself. For him, at least.

See, your name is Jodiah Monark. And who are you, if not giving your everything for others? Isn’t that in your name? A Monark is a Martyr, it's the curse your family bears. Bertie risks his life to save people from fires, Galile gives up all her free time to save lives from afar. Daisee died for it, crashed her stupid little ship to save Khirti. And your lusus, Her Beloved Annihilation, gave up everything he ever wanted in life, to ensure you and your siblings could have the best lives possible. You knew better than anyone how The Annihilation would do absolutely anything you’d ask, if only you’d forgive his mistakes.

Being Jodiah Monark meant you were very, very, very attentive. How could you not be? You’ve seen the way misery hangs around the Cheongs. Gloom drapes itself around Nesseo’s pretty shoulders like an old friend. You’ve seen it. The way Marsie looks off to the side when Ness takes a drink, as if to avoid it. The way Mondes hesitates each time they raise that bottle. The way Daseos pretends to not see. The way Carbyn’s smile falters. The way Ness themself reaches for the bottle like it's their only life saver in the vast stormy seas of their life.

In all fairness to them, it probably is.

But you are no idiot. Treatment would be difficult to obtain in the current state of the family’s affairs. You’ve had to play doctor for them a handful of times. When Mondes let Marsie cut the vegetables and he cut his hand. One time, Das got a splinter at school. Hell, you’ve given Nesseo some advice for combatting hangovers, though you never truly thought they listened.

You had spent many hours, absently tinkering on your mask, thinking to yourself about the situation. It’s quite easy to lock yourself into a bathroom with the excuse of mask maintenance. Bring your little toolbox, take the mask off, and tinker away. It’s always the same things you tinker with. The same bolts. The same circuit boards. You unscrew them, blow them off, screw them back in. Some days you take the entire mask apart just to rebuild it. And you think. As you sit on the bathroom floor, slowly unscrewing an allen bolt, you’re reminded of why you chose to use that bolt for an interior hinge.

It was because of Hanagi. You had, naturally, read some of her studies and glanced at blueprints she had made, long before you ever met her family. Funny, isn’t it? She had influenced your life before you ever dragged yourself into this mess. You were hardly an idiot. You’d done the math- the little personal use space ship they departed on would’ve most definitely lost power by now. You had set a countdown timer on your palmhusk to know the exact date their survivability ran out. And every time you visited your moirail, because he so gratefully kept your palmhusk, you’d see the little numbers tick down, closer and closer to zero.

You couldn’t save Hanagi. And Mondes doesn’t want you to save him, either. But you were struggling to sit by and not save someone. You sigh, the un-muffled sound of your exhale feeling alien to you. If only there was a way you could save someone.

The sound of the refrigerator closing in the distance is what makes the idea spark.

In a flash, you put your mask back together. You don’t bother with making it perfect. Just usable. You scramble to your feet and leave in a hurry, without a word to anyone. Though your rush to leave is ultimately a waste, as you end up waiting for the subway anyways. The rail had just left the station when you got there, resulting in a ten minute wait. The extra twenty minutes of solitude on the subway gave you time to think about your approach. In hindsight, you were grateful the Fleet base that your father was stationed at was so far away.

It was the middle of the day, in the middle of the work week, meaning you had to use your personal Fleet identification code to be allowed into the facility. Doing so most likely pinged your CO that you were on a Fleet base, but that was the last thing on your mind. You had a different general you needed to meet with. And, if you knew anything about your lusus, you knew he’d be eating a late lunch in his office right now.

You knocked on the doorframe to announce your arrival. Her Beloved Annihilation looked up from his bowl of chicken salad, shock evident on his face. His fins fluttered nervously as he set his lunch aside, rushing to finish his bite, motioning for you to take a seat.

You don’t sit. You step inside his office, closing the door behind you.

“Dia- I was just thinking about you! Wondering where you’d gone off to. You look…” You imagine he was going to say tired. Or annoyed. Both, maybe, “...well. Is that your brother’s-?”

“Annihilation.” You cut him short. You could see the hurt flash over his eyes. After Festur died, you had resorted to calling your lusus Beloved, rather than Dad like any of your siblings. It was a personal rebellion, your own little way of hurting him for hurting you, even if you knew he hadn’t done it intentionally. After he repeated the offense by not telling you about Twitch, you went a step further, only calling him Annihilation. “I need you to do something for me.”

Annihilation sat upright, folding his hands on his desk, “Of course, Dia. What can I do for you?”

He watched you closely. Her Beloved Annihilation always had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room. His gaze soft and attentive, his smile warm. Despite the security his attention provided you, you still hesitated. It was a lot to ask of any one man. Even someone with as much power as Her Beloved Annihilation. This could so easily go awry. What if he turned them, and you, in? What if all that talk about doing the right thing, not the Empirical thing, as a child, was just talk?

You square your jaw under your mask.

“I would like you to pardon Nesseo Cheong.”

Annihilation watches you silently for a moment longer. You can see the gears turning in his head. Wondering why you’d ask? Or wondering how he could do it? You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

He opens his mouth to respond. You cut him off, “Marsie is alive. Don’t ask how. Marsie is alive, and therefore can testify who his murderer truly was. I can get that confession from him. You know I can. Doing so would confirm that Twitch arrested the wrong troll.”

Annihilation leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, “That gives me ground to pardon the man Twitch arrested. Not Nesseo. Nesseo was still impersonating an officer.”

“Nesseo Cheong was not impersonating an officer. They were in the process of shadowing, as a means of finding a career as a prison guard.” The lie rolls off your tongue so smoothly.

“Do you have the documents to prove that claim?” He cocks a brow.

“I can get them.” You nod.

He nods as well, sighing softly. Silence falls between you two once more as you watch the gears turn again. You follow his gaze to the wall of his office, where several pictures were hung up neatly in frames. Photographs of your family, of his late quadrants, memorable moments. Finally, you slump down on one of the plush chairs on the other side of his desk.

You know how this works. You knew anything you said could and would be held against not only you, but Nesseo, and also your lusus. It was risky. It was dangerous. And it was a complete violation of their privacy. But it was worth the risk.

“...Nesseo Cheong is an alcoholic. We can say their behavior was influenced by addiction and the desire to get better. Emotional trauma or something. Does that help?”

“Possibly.”

“Twitch kidnapped Hanagi Cheong. Nesseo’s older sister. Nesseo is the sole caregiver of the youngest Cheong, Daseos.”

“I take it that’s where you’ve been?”

“It’s impossible to take care of a kid when neither of you can leave the hive.”

Annihilation nodded slowly. The silence resumed for a moment, but was stopped short when he laughed. You barely notice the giggle his laughter sparks, too muffled under your mask to be heard. “You’re not making my job any easier, Dia.”

“But-”

“I’ll figure it out. I promise, I’ll find a way. It’s easier said than done, you know this.” His smile is as genuine as his tone is teasing, “It’d be best if you stop telling me any more incriminating details. Have your forger send the documents you’ll make over to me as soon as possible.”

You nod, and slowly rise.

“I shouldn’t need a statement from Marsie or Nesseo. The documents are more to cover my own tracks. I’d tell you to avoid getting caught with them, but I doubt they’re leaving the hive much.”

You nod again, “...Should I tell them..?”

“No, no.” He shook his head with a grin, “I’ll send an official letter once everything has been processed and their records wiped. Don’t worry about providing an address.”

You knew better than to ask for clarification. You just nod again. Despite your answer, you hesitate to leave.

Your lusus seemed to pick up on your hesitance, tilting his head slightly, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You’re quiet for another second. After what felt like an eternity, you shake your head. “No…just-...Thank you. For helping.”

“Of course, Dia.” The tension visibly melted off his shoulders.

You turn to leave, pausing at the door, “I’ll stop by with lunch tomorrow, okay? See you then, Dad.”

You didn’t wait around to see his reaction. It felt a little dishonest, calling him a name you weren’t prepared to. There was a knife of guilt twisting in your chest as you made your way out of his office, off the base. Doing so was just one final way to ensure he actually went through with the pardon. It was the only insurance you had.

#drabbles #jodiah monark #her beloved annihilation #ghost.art

18 notes · View notes

dustydaydreamer · 7 months ago

Note

What advice do you have for a 17 year old girl?

I had no good response to this immediately, so I took a day to think about it and outsourced.

My girlfriend says "they need permission to make mistakes." As in, a lot of teenagers think that they need to be perfect, that they aren't allowed to make mistakes. You absolutely are. You are expected to fuck up, and you will recover. Be gentle when judging yourself, and if you don't learn the first time you make a mistake, you will eventually. It will not be the end of the world.

A friend says learn random skills. Learn survival skills: how to start a fire, some basic sewing and some basic cooking. Have a first aid kit. It will seem useless until it is extremely necessary. She says do risky things safely. She also said that when you're trying alcohol or drugs for the first time do it by yourself. I disagree. I think that her experiences were around strangers and other people that weren't trustworthy. I say that if you want to try alcohol or drugs, do it around people you trust. Have someone who maybe has more experience, and will definitely support you if you start throwing up or having a panic attack or any of the things that can go wrong. This isn't said to discourage you: just cause things can go wrong doesn't mean they will. For me with alcohol, those people were my parents and boyfriend. For my boyfriend when he tried edibles, those people were friends he has had for years.

I want to say be aware of your mental health. When I was 17 I was very depressed and refused to acknowledge it, or acknowledge that my therapist wasn't helping at all. Acknowledging that there is something you would like to work on is a very useful first step, and it can prevent things getting worse.

Additionally, people are so important. Find people that will support you, and who you enjoy spending time around, who you want to support in return. These people are not permanent. You can think that someone will be in your life forever, and then go away to college or realize you aren't working as well as you used to, and lose contact with them. This is ok. You will find new people. You will change and grow as a person and your friends will also, and it doesn't always happen in the same direction. Don't let someone isolate you. There are very cool people out there and spending time with multiple of them is so helpful to your own health, whether you have your four incredibly close friends, or you find twenty people you love being around that you know will support you.

I also want to say that if you get into an abusive relationship, you won't notice at first. And when you notice, you might not want to acknowledge it. It's really hard to see that someone is toxic until you have experience with other people. Trust the people around you who want to support you, don't let yourself lose them, and know that they will still be there even if it takes a year to extricate yourself from the relationship. Again, it is ok to make mistakes. You will recover.

I wish you the best of luck in your life. I must say that I myself am only a bit older than 17, and certainly still figuring things out, which I don't really believe is a process that ever stops.

-dustydaydreamer

4 notes · View notes

cordoleo · 9 months ago

Text

hear ye hear ye — the riverlands welcomes LADY MEREDYTH RYKKER of DUSKENDALE. king matthos baratheon is glad that the TWENTY-EIGHT year old appears to be resourceful and he shall overlook that it’s said they are also detached, as long as they are glad to celebrate peace in the seven kingdoms. fortunately for them, matthos remains oblivious that they AREN’T happy with his reign.

i. background.

full name: meredyth rykker.

commonly goes by: mere, merry.

epitaph: lady nowhere.

official title: lady of duskendale.

occupation: translator, performer; previously a novice in the citadel (c. 287 - 293)

age: twenty eight.

birth date: 17th of june 270 ac.

gender + pronouns: cis woman + she/her.

orientation: bisexual + homoromantic.

allegiance: herself.

spoken language: common tongue, high valyrian, bastard valyrian ( several dialects ), trade talk, lhazareen, sarnori, enough dothraki.

religion: baptized under the faith of the seven but holds little attachment to the seven; instead, she has a fondness for foreign gods.

ii. appearance.

faceclaim: pooja hegde.

eye color: warm brown.

hair color: chocolate brown.

remarkable markings: n/a.

dominant hand: ambidextruous.

height: 5'9".

build: tall, "pear shaped".

iii. personality.

virtues: easy - going, vivacious, open - minded, adaptative, quick - witted, attentive.

vices: opportunistic, vain, unruly, chaotic, non - committal, egotistical.

weapon of choice: always carries a dagger strapped to her thigh and poison inside one of her rings.

moral alignment: tba.

inspired by: alexis rose ( schitt’s creek ), helene kuragina ( war and peace ), maria de padilla ( history ), nell gwynn ( history ), roman roy ( succession ), lydia bennett ( pride and prejudice ).

common tropes: tba.

iv. relationships.

parents: reginald and tba rykker.

siblings: desmera and tba ( older ).

relationship status: unmarried.

children: none.

pets: none.

other relations: tba.

previous relations: several.

v. biography.

last born of the rykker clan, mere was fed from the crib about tales she'd eat up eagerly: stories of the old valyrian world, the one that it developed into and survived in essos and the one that, just shortly after she was born, would crumble around in westeros. gifts and reminiscent items from the targaryen allegiance the rykker had were hidden away. instead, they focused on trade — duskendale may not be white harbor or oldtown, but the port city was lively, and yet another interesting thing for a child that was too curious to focus on.

she loathed going to king's landing when the ironborn rebellion knocked at their doors. while her sister may have taken to being a maid of honor with grace and keenness, merry would have rather stayed behind. as a ten year old, she didn't understand the dangers of new coming boats that have always treated her so well, but at thirteen, she would learn that the ironborn are not as merciful as foreign traders. it was also the first time she noticed that, sometimes, there is something more than family, than to be bound — when dessie prefers to give up their right as heir to play puppet to a queen that was, fairly, loathsome.

that didn't stop her from coming back to court at fifteen, though her stay there would be even shorter. the strong will she had could not be contained by the queen who would then advice (truly, almost demand) that the rykker's mother to deal with mere somehow. the method chosen was the citadel. the life of a novice was the last thing merry would care to indulge. the life of a maester seemed like a nightmare, certainly a punishment that mother wasn't even qualified to bestow upon her (hadn't her mother been just as bad of a hellion in her youth, sailing all the way from saath to westeros?), yet, she went. the convincing part of it was the knowledge she could pry from the teachers: you needn't take the vows, she was promised.

and truly, it wasn't all bad. she enjoyed some subjects — she would go on to forge four chains: black iron (raven), copper (history), bronze (astronomy), lead (poisoning) — and made some acquaintances she'd hold dear, but patience could only hold to a certain time. on the eve of the date of another chain test, she chose to board a ship out of westeros instead. if anything, that was on her mother, who had fed her such stories of success — she wanted nothing but to redo it, forge her own path the way she wanted to. it wasn't all nice nor pretty, not the way she would tell people later on. when the money ran out, she was ready to join a pillow house before she saw a performance of a traveling trope that would take her in.

with them, she went around most of the free cities until some three years ago, when she became the mistress of the magistrate of lys. it was around there that she first met aerys targaryen, though it would take her years to entirely leave her very comfortable position to follow a beggar prince — not until the dragons were born again and it was like mere was three again, eating up mistified tales of a family of old. she's always struggled to believe, but maybe in this — in this, she can find something that sticks.

#conquest.intro

4 notes · View notes

dulcetcure · 1 year ago

Text

₊˙ ◌ ⁎˚ 〇﹒﹙minatozaki sana. cisfemale. she / her.﹚guess who was almost late for their shift at vesper lounge again ?? that’s right, it was yoshihara arisa ! it’s a wonder their job as a bartender isn’t in jeopardy. the 24 year old has been working at sunset galleria for three years, and is well known for their bubbly nature. on bad days, they can be rather mercurial, though. when the mall is dead at night, they can usually be found prepping for a date at sephora cosmetics, but don’t tell their boss !

and hi hi again! this is also rouge because i can’t help myself and this is a beloved muse ⏤ so i’m bringing miss lover girl arisa, embodiment of affection! her stats and personality page is also done and a rough version of her background will be below. please like to plot or also hit me up on discord for her as well!

arisa is very much a local to daegu, her parents moving to the town shortly after her birth in osaka, japan.

unfortunately arisa was a very sickly child, suffering with a disease that gave her a weakened immune system and had her in and out of the hospital from ages 3 to 10. at 10 she had a bad bout in the hospital for several months where the doctors thought that she wasn’t going to make it, but ended up surviving in the end.

she had always been the typical girly girl who dreamed of a wedding and prince charming, fairytale movies were always played in her hospital room as she seemed to perk up while watching them. she likes to say that that love saved her ⏤ not only from the movies, but her parents as well.

although many families have rather broken parental relationships, hers was quite the opposite. her parents were high school sweethearts that broke up and finding each other again in their twenties and never let go ever since. her mother showed her how women were supposed to be treated and her father showed her what to look for in a man. even several decades later, they’re still playful and faithfully dedicated to each other.

so you could say that she’s always been obsessed with the idea of romance. this obviously bled into her relationships, and has dated around a lot in her life, experienced a lot of heartbreak ( especially in high school ), but hasn’t found her prince/ss charming :( which has caused some self-confidence issues which makes her prone to moody behaviors at random.

but she started becoming “cupid” after entering university and helping a couple of couples get together. it was from there that she realized how much she enjoyed helping people in general and decided to advertise her services to those around ⏤ and definitely not because she’s somewhat living through them at all! of course not!

this has also bled into her job @ vesper lounge too ... and around the mall in general, considering her reputation most likely proceeds her but she doesn’t mind that at all.

not only that but she’s sure that she wants to be a therapist or a legit dating coach, so like ... technically this her building experience, right?

anyways yeah! this time i do have plot ideas so here they are below:

ofc off the bat anyone that’s come to her for dating help or trying to get with someone in particular, she’s your girl!

also past exes and past / current flings because arisa states that she isn’t dating to “focus on herself” but the reality is that she’s probably going through some sort of hoe phase looking for love in all the wrong places, lbr

this also includes past and current flirtationships too

someone who frequents the lounge mainly for her companionship / to get advice from her, as much as she loooves to talk she’s also a good listener ( when she wants to be ) and probably beams as soon as you walk in! let her attempt to solve your problems!

someone who isn’t confident in themselves that she is working to build up, or even someone that she’s trying to do a complete social makeover on ⏤ think zero to hero and all those cliches

childhood friends! those who stuck beside her during her most vulnerable time and that she probably bends backwards over for

on the opposite spectrum, enemies because she was probably caught flirting with someone’s significant other ( whoops ), people who thinks that she’s fake and vapid ( valid ), weren’t happy that she wasn’t able to make their crush fall in love with them ( doesn’t work like that but okay ), got caught in her cheating entrapment services and found out, among other things

also someone that doesn’t like her who she’s desperately trying to get their acceptance of for whatever reason

some found family b/c i’m always a sucker for that, or actual family

party friends! among so much more that i can’t think of, but let’s brainstorm!

okay that’s all i got, thank you for your time if you got this far ♡

#sunsetintro #⁕. 𝐎𝐎𝐂 › reduce me to nothingness ❜

10 notes · View notes

unofficial-sean · 2 years ago

Text

Life kinda, like, passes you by so quickly. Once moment a college student is popping your cherry--you can’t really feel your body, it’ll ass tingly and light headed--and now you’re approaching your mid-twenties and the gravity of everything sets in; the finite nature of life, the warped film of time and memories, and latent nature of firsts.

When I was 17, I dreamed of where I’d be now, but where I am is so far off the mark. I can’t even bottom, i don’t have a place of my own, my career is fragmented, and worse of all, I’m so alone in this struggle.Not only did I fail to achieve my goals, I’ve become a different person; alien to who I was when all I could thin about was getting railed and moving out of my small hometown.

Not that those were good admirations, but I’ve just completely lost sight of who I wanted to be. I’m so lost and there’s no guidance. As loathe as I was to accepting it, I had so many resources in high school. There were people there willing to help if i just had the wisdom to accept it. But now here I am.

in three months, I’ll be 24. Another year passed and I have still not achieved my goals. They’re not even possible, now. And that should be fine, but part of me still wants that. Part of me still wants to get railed and have people over and live a more risky life. But all I can do now is top at best. Maybe I work some job. Gets me enough to survive and pay for my ROV research on the weekends. That’s all I have left.

I recognized that working for the Army was soul sucking,and so I’ve got multiple interviews in the private sectors for electronics work. But I jsut know it won’t give me purpose.

Everyone says “be yourself and you’ll find your people.’ But when I do that, I’m always alone. If I go out to the ocean with my ROV, who will saunter on up and take interest? How to I meet my people when all I do is solitary? I fantasize that someone asks what I’m doing, and I explain that I’m observing sharks, and they get interested, and I show them how to use the ROV controller, and l et them explore and focus on the marine life that catches their eye, and we form a friendship. But in reality, everyone on the shore is focused on their own things.

There is no guide anymore. There are no resources. I can’t figure out which side of me people like, and I can’t even get brief sexual gratification anymore.It seems whoever I am, personally, professionally, romantically, and sexually, is so undesirable. Even though I’m being myself. I fell so stuck.

I can’t stop crying. The life i wanted was robbed from me,and the best i can do with my circumstance is not good enough. I don’t have the personality of a dominant top. I’m a subby bottom that can’t bottom. I like myself shaved and lithe but toned. And that’ fine for a bottom, but not for a top. I can’t fit any space. I’m just this malformed creature,

N one wants to talk with me. N one matches my passion. I don't’ even care if it’s unrelated to my interests. I can spill about all there is to know about sharks, and I’ll never meet someone with that same spark for anything. Am I overwhelming? Am I dry? None of this shit gets spilled when I talk to people; it should come up when I talk to my therapist, but my therapist is only available for one hour every two weeks. She’s never there when I need her most.

It’s not your responsibility to comfort me. My therapist would likely just tell me to focus on myself or whatever. I’ve been doing that. All the advice there is to give, I’ve heard.

I don’t think I’m inadequate. Inherently, I like myself. If I could clone myself, we’d get alone. But I really struggle to understand why other people don’t seems to like me. Whether it’s at a glace, after an interaction, or after months of friendship. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I never get an answer.,. I get ghosted. I get left to pick up the pieces and form my own conclusions. All that’s ever done is force me to be harsh to myself; to self criticize; to pick myself apart before I can put myself back together.

I’m not perfect. I struggle to understand socialization. I can’t tell wish face people want to see. I’m too afraid to make compliments or advances because I can’t tell if what I’m saying is charming or harassment. When I keep to myself, no one gets in. When I push too far, I’m reprimanded. I long for a space where the words I say are not taken with such dire nature.

I want to be soft. I wanted to be feminine and womanly. And maybe i still can. But how many people really, truly want a feminine person to top them? How many people want to truly put up with infodumping and the sensitivities of an autistic person? What can I even do to form connections when my messages are never read?

There is no guide. No help. I could have died today, and I’d have died without ever knowing a woman’s touch. Without ever feeling that delicacy. I’ve had men, sure, but that I’ve never felt; not intimately. I could have left this world without ever having touched a shark. Or left being a research paper. The only person who’d really miss me is my dad, And he doesn’t really know who I am.

I make my intent known and I wait. but how much waiting must i do before I recognize the reality and let it go? I am who I am. And I’m going to sleep.

5 notes · View notes

bloodiedmedic · 2 years ago

Note

🩺 and 🚙 for the Cyberpunk ask meme? :3

What is a CORE/FORMATIVE/DEFINING moment/memory between your V/OC and _____? From here: Still accepting

(Oh hi, and thank you for sending this in! Interesting choices, and I’m assuming this is for Alexis so let’s see...)

🩺- Viktor Vektor (This is working off of the assumption Viktor is 60-80 give or take)

Alexis always having had at least a small interest in medical work as well as cybernetics, and ripperdocs grew up hearing the name “Viktor Vektor” mentioned from time to time. When listening to rumors, or old stories Alexis got the impression of a stand up guy who’d managed to pull himself away from a life that involved violence on a personal level to one that you could at least try to argue was more about helping people survive violence. Those stories plus Alexis’ own natural inclinations got them looking more into medical stuff, and trying to find a way to do something similar. Those stories were important because all the other stories they heard were of rich doctors that had grown up with money, or ripperdocs you had to hope wouldn’t take advantage of you in one way or another, or other similar things.

Weirdly enough it was an encounter with Viktor himself that helped them muster up the willpower to finally escape from their captors. It’d been judged “funny” to make Alexis install a new set of cybernetic eyes on themselves which predictably enough hadn’t gone well. With the result causing Alexis to make a few mistakes on other operations eventually a couple of Tyger Claws took Alexis to Viktor to get their eyes fixed, and actually replaced.

A conversation happened between Alexis Viktor during which Alexis admitted they’d heard of Viktor, and Viktor had been kind of flattered but upset at the eye job until he realized Alexis had been forced to do it themselves. After that there was a twenty minute back and forth in which Alexis made two things clear. They didn’t want to be with the Tyger Claws, and they didn’t have any money for a merc to help them. Viktor despite wanting to help couldn't really do much, and ended up just giving Alexis some advice that basically came down to when an opportunity shows up take it no matter the risk although it was in boxing metaphors. Eventually that opportunity came, and Alexis took it and left the Tyger Claws. At some point afterwards they sent Viktor a little card with a boxing glove on it anonymously thanking him. Alexis doesn’t think Viktor remembers, or knows who would have sent the card but that’s not important.

🚙- Panam Palmer (oh this is interesting because Alexis is a street kid who ends up being forced to work with Tyger Claws so there’s not much of a reason for them to meet buuuuut….)

With Alexis being one of the few medics who could defend themselves successfully (although it took a few years for Alexis to get to that point) the T.C started involving Alexis on jobs, and bringing them along on business from time to time just in case things went bad. One particular job involved what should have been a straight forward business transaction with Panam bringing some goods, and things being traded back and forth. The only reason Alexis was even there was because some of the items were medical related, and so the T.C brought them along to make sure the items were okay. The problem was that another gang ambushed the meet, and people got hurt. Alexis that particular day prioritized saving the life of a man Panam was working with, and had brought along for backup instead of a Tyger Claw who got shot despite the fact they got pistol whipped for it. After things calmed down and Alexis was nursing a black eye Panam patted their shoulder, and said they were a good person. They deserved better than these assholes, and if Alexis ever left them not to forget Panam owed them one. Alexis never quite forgot the feeling of her hand on their shoulder, or the reassurance that they deserved better. They’ve also not forgotten Panam owes them one, but they’ve never called in the favor and having no way to contact Panam probably never will but Alexis is okay with that. Alexis just hopes Panam is still out there somewhere doing her thing.

#justalexisthings #cyberpunkalexis

3 notes · View notes

stardust-in-my-mind-blog · 1 month ago

Text

feelings during the first read of my divorce papers

fear. there is fear everywhere. swimming around in my blood. I want to cry. my nervous system has sirens. my gut has something pressed against it. my throat is wearing a knife inside. Why do I want to cry? I'm glad the marriage is over. It's scary to start over. There are so many lies on these pages. Everything about all this was a lie. I suck at filling out forms and I always mess them up. I need to call my lawyer. 30 days. I'm crying now. I knew I would. The fear that I'll somehow mess this up and ruin my life is... the same loop going over and over and over in my mind. He said to just pay her with the money. He did. But he's never cared or managed the money. He's never been the one worried about how to buy groceries. He's never been the one who had everything rejected during the plague. He never had to deal with all those times of embarrassment and shame because... he never did the cooking or groceries. Or knew what the kids need. He never minded that the family suffered. It's hard to take his advice knowing nothing he ever tells me is true. Isn't it hard to lie all the time like that?

I'll do what I have to do.

I knew this was going to bring everything back. When you're living in someone else's delusion and desperately trying to survive it... the truth of your reality feels like poison. It feels like you're doing something wrong. You're punished for your own reality so much that I... feel pain when you're aware of it. Everything feels sharp and jagged inside of me. My thoughts. Where I keep my feelings. My insides feel like a pin-ball machine. It makes me dizzy. Overstimulated. There are too many noises and lights and.... everything hurts. In reality I'm sitting here in silence. I feel my energy swirling around inside of me. Trying to escape this flesh prison. Trying to hurl itself out of my skin. I feel the panic. I feel the fear. The helplessness. I am trapped. I am hopeless. I am helpless. I am somehow wrong again and I don't know why I'm always wrong. I tried to hard. I don't know... what to do. idon'tknowwhattodoidon'tknowwhattodoidon'tknowwhattodo idon'tknowwhattodoidon'tknowwhattodoidon'tknowwhattodo

I imagine calling up the lawyer and having her tell me that she knew I was going to get back into this mess. She doesn't want to help me. I should have known better. What the hell was I thinking? I did everything too fast. I trusted the wrong people. Find someone else to get you out of this mess you're responsible for. She's not going to do that. Why do I imagine it?

I remember talking to her the first time. I remember her giving me advice I didn't follow. I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I hated being here. I was losing half my kids lives just to get away from him. I was dying. I would die if I didn't get away from him. I was already dead I'd just die again. I never run out of lives and I spend them doing stupid shit like this. "It's like you're fighting five different enemies," I remember that therapist saying. He drew me a picture of a stick person surrounded by five tornados.

"I've always been fighting to survive. Nobody wanted me the way I came," I say. I name each tornado, trying to hug them as they destroy me. They tell me I'm dying wrong. I take a deep breath. Time to look through the pages again. That was only the first wave. There will be a few more to swim through before my executive function kicks in.

I'm not 35 right now. I'm every version of me looking at paperwork of someone who promised to care about me but just finding another way to stick the knife in deeper and twist. I learned so early that this was the definition of love. What is uncomfortable is my trying to change my definition of it. Licensed private detective? I'll dissolute this motherfucker. thirty days not counting day of service. eleven twenty-two. No maintenance - oh he must have been describing his part in everything. surely that doesn't mean the future. he is upset that I plan to treat him like he's the third asshole who has put me through this. stopped reading and threw the papers down. at least my spirit is showing up again. we weren't married on the fourth of may. we were married on april 24th. it's in the paper work. thank fuck. I can like star wars again. city of geneva in the county of kane should probably read over the geneva convention irreconcilable differences sure is used to describe what the fuck broke down this marriage but okay okay. got through them. head hurts. butterflies all over but the fear is gone. I'll take a shower and get rebalanced. Call the lawyer tomorrow. Maybe I should write an email with the documents attached? Second one would be more efficient and give them time to look over things and decide what they want to do with me. Maybe both? Tomorrow. That was a shitty ride. But we got through it. Brought to you by CPTSD - just when you think you've healed it, out of nowhere it punches you straight in the face!

0 notes

etruatcaelum · 1 year ago

Text

JAX ASTURIAS

PHYSICAL

Of average height and athletic build. Olive complexion. Black hair, shoulder-length, usually in a topknot. Thin face. Deep bags under dark mauve eyes. Small birthmark, shaped like a crown, on the inside of his right wrist.

Jax is a faunus: his feet are those of an addax, with dark cloven hooves and light, sandy fur from his ankles down.

STYLE

Blue and silver—colors of the ancient Vacuan royal crest. Eschews any and all "modern" or "foreign" dress, very narrowly defined; this includes traditional Vacuan styles he deems to have been corrupted in some way by foreign influence or inspiration, and garments produced by machines. (The ample archaeological evidence indicating that konurgy was a widespread practice in the old kingdom of Vacuo, long before its conquest, matters to him not at all. He is a fanatic.)

On the streets of Vacuo, he appears ordinary if a little old-fashioned for a man in his early twenties: thobes are timeless and practical, although few of his generation concern themselves much with tradition when it comes to the details.

Because of his hooves, he prefers to go barefoot.

SELENE

His weapon is a kopis sword, which Jax forged himself during his years at Shade Academy. Though simple, lacking any of the tricks and transformations popular with modern huntsman, Selene is well-made and, in Jax's hands, quite deadly.

AURA

Bright blue—like a swimming pool.

The twins' mother, Luna, suffered from a rare autoimmune disorder known as Corbeau's Disease, wherein the body's immune system attacks aura-saturated tissue; in other words, Corbeau's patients are essentially allergic to their own auras and cannot amplify without becoming ill. For those with severe cases, merely experiencing strong emotion—which stirs the aura—can trigger flare-ups.

Corbeau's is lifelong, but manageable if diagnosed early and properly treated. However, its rarity together with the rather decrepit state of Vacuo's healthcare system meant that for most of Luna's life, as far as she knew, she was just a little more fragile, more prone to sickness than most. She was no huntress and no trained auralerist; and so her condition went undetected...

...until she became pregnant about a year after marrying Finn Asturias. The hormonal and auraleric changes associated with pregnancy resulted in a severe flare-up, and Luna grew very sick very swiftly—in time, sick enough for her to to defy Finn's suspicion of modern medicine and go to a clinic. She was diagnosed and stabilized, although her health never quite recovered; in the end, labor complications required that the twins be delivered surgically, despite the major risks involved in surgery for Corbeau's patients.

Luna died during the procedure. The twins survived, and within the hour the attending physician had diagnosed Jax with Corbeau's. Finn, who had long viewed the medical profession as a fraudulent, dogmatic tool of covert Atlesian imperialism and regarded Luna's medical team as her murderers, ignored this and burnt the packet of medical advice and treatment recommendations the hospital had provided the moment he brought the twins home.

Several years later, when Gillian discovered her semblance—the ability to siphon aura from other living things—Finn came to believe that his daughter had manifested this ability in the womb and fed upon Luna's and Jax's auras. This explanation became the family's reality for years, until Gillian happened to stumble across a blog written by another Corbeau's patient living in Mistral. Recognizing eerie similarities between the symptoms this person described and her brother's mysterious fragility, Gill pushed aside her reservations about outsiders and reached out; the twins were eleven at the time, and over the course of the next two years, she pieced together the real story.

The first-line treatment for Corbeau's is a combination of medication and auraleric therapies that aim to alter the natural wavelength of the patient's aura, as people with Corbeau's are often only reactive to their own auraleric signature. Upon learning this, Gillian hit upon the idea of using her semblance to swap auras with Jax: she drains his, and passes her own back to him.

Doing so almost completely eliminates his symptoms, although it also makes Jax physically dependent on his sister; he cannot get further than a few miles away from her without disrupting the link formed by her semblance, and the physical shock of their auras snapping back would certainly make him very sick, and might outright kill him. Still, they both agreed it was a marked improvement over the painful frailty he had suffered in childhood, and made a pact never to abandon each other—no matter what.

SEMBLANCE

Jax has never registered his semblance, but he privately—and somewhat sarcastically—describes it as heteroamnesistic manipulation: if he touches someone while that person looks into his eyes, he can induce a trance-like state which allows him to manipulate their memory.

Before the Dawn depicts his semblance as being tantamount to outright, nigh-absolute mind control; however, this does not make sense to me given its basis in the distortion and falsification of memory, so I'm taking it in a different direction. Jax cannot fundamentally change a person's mind or the way they think, nor can he wholly fabricate and rewrite an individual's history to plunge them into an alternate reality in which they're a fanatic devoted to his cause, as he does in the book.

He can induce false memories, as well as cause people to forget or misremember the details of their real memories, although he isn't powerful enough to wholesale erase memories.

In the broader sense, what he can do—what Jax mainly uses his semblance to do—is radicalize people. If a person is already sympathetic to his cause, he can sway them to offer more active support, and he can very easily fire up supporters into devout, even rabid loyalists. Likewise, if someone disagrees with him, he can push that feeling to irrational extremes—and thus, cause his opponents to appear like hysterical fools.

His semblance is most effective on those who hold deep convictions or feel strongly about whatever cause or belief he's trying to influence. If a person is inclined to neutrality or indifference, Jax might sway them in his favor, but only for a short while. Someone who values careful deliberation, critical thinking, consideration of opposing viewpoints, and so forth, will similarly be better equipped to resist his manipulation.

Because Jax relies on his sister's aura to use his semblance, Gillian is completely unaffected by it.

HISTORY

The Asturias family has long claimed descent from Malik the Sunderer, the legendary—quite possibly, outright mythical—first king of Vacuo, said to have founded the nation during the Third Era, several thousand years ago. This claim is founded on mythical accounts of a "kingly mark" upon Malik's brow, which the family takes to be a crown-shaped birthmark: the very birthmark they allege to have been inherited by the first-born of every generation of Asturiases since time immemorial, to mark the kingdom's rightful ruler.

Of course, there is no real proof, and the modern-day Vacuan Federation has no need for kings. Nevertheless, Finn Asturias believed in the family myth so fervently that he went as far as to brand his infant daughter—the stronger, healthier twin—with the mark, on the opposite wrist from her brother's natural birthmark. He raised them both to believe it, too, although only Jax believed with the same fervor.

To Jax, the idea that he was of royal blood—that he had been destined to rule Vacuo—offered an escape from his miserable childhood reality: frail, sickly, weak. Despite Finn's belief that Gillian had caused Luna's death and her brother's sickness, their father held to certain attitudes, typical of Vacuo's post-war urban zeitgeist, extolling the ideals of physical strength, harsh individualism, and survival of the fittest. Gillian was his golden child, and he never hid his disdain for his son's fragility.

Jax, therefore, spent his youth lost in fantasies of becoming strong; dreams which developed over time into more elaborate fantasies of claiming his royal birthright and ushering in a wonderful new era of Vacuan power and prosperity. Once he and Gillian began swapping auras, these fantasies—which seemed, suddenly, so possible—gradually became an all-consuming obsession.

While Gillian had little in the way of personal ambition, she cherished her brother and believed, as he did, that Vacuo had lost more than it gained from signing the Vytal Accords and entering into a global partnership with the very kingdoms that had once conquered it, bled it dry, and crushed its people underfoot. It was her idea to enroll in Shade Academy in order to train and find like-minded people with whom they could ally—although she imagined they would champion popular reform, at the time, while Jax was already daydreaming of revolution.

They were placed together, alongside Rosa Schwein and Argento Pocoron: Team GRAJ, pronounced "Gray-Jay." Gillian adapted to living outside the isolated, rabidly anti-modern bubble in which Finn had raised them with far more ease than did Jax, whose views became increasingly radical and who came to be widely disliked by the school's faculty.

Halfway through their fourth and final year at Shade, Jax injured a huntsman during a training exercise and was summarily expelled, in spite of his (truthful) insistence that the man had attacked him first; Gillian, Rosa, and Argento dropped out in protest, and the team disappeared into Vacuo's underworld.

This humiliation—and nakedly unfair treatment, as there had been no real investigation into the incident and Jax had been given no chance to argue his case simply because his professors didn't like him—was the final straw for Jax. He decided then and there that Shade Academy, for all intents and purposes the ruling political power in Vacuo, needed to fall.

So the Crown came to be.

For the next three years, Gillian and Jax worked tirelessly to strengthen discontent with Headmaster Theodore's leadership of Shade Academy and rally support for their cause: they would topple the illegitimate "throne" of the school and the impotent democratic council to restore the Vacuan monarchy of old.

Just a year after Beacon's fall, and only a matter of weeks before Atlas would fall and hundreds of thousands of refugees would flood into the desert, the Crown attempts to do just that; however, the tide turns against them, and both Jax and Gill are captured and imprisoned in Coquina.

OTHER NOTES

The faunus woman who led the Vacuan rebellion against Mistrali occupation during the Great War was Meriem Asturias, Finn's grandmother. During the rebellion, she styled herself the Queen of Vacuo; the family had preserved the memory, if none of the trappings of its aristocratic ancestry even through the Mistrali occupation, but Meriem understood the political importance and power of myth-making, and the legend of descent from Malik the Sunderer originated with her.

The book elides this by putting so much emphasis on the mind control, but the Crown has very real, significant popular support in Vacuo: there are a lot of people who are not happy about the complete political irrelevance of their elected representatives and the effective consolidation of political power by Shade Academy, and a lot of people who feel abandoned and betrayed by the promises of the Vytal Accords.

While Jax makes liberal use of his semblance to intensify this support, the Crown is not a fringe movement even before Atlas falls—and once Atlas falls, reactionary backlash to the refugee crisis provokes a massive explosion in the Crown's popularity.

In the book, Jax uses his semblance to turn Xanthe Rumpole, deputy head of Shade Academy, into his double agent and places Yatsuhashi under mind control for a significant leg of the story. Since I'm taking less of a straightforward mind control approach with Jax's semblance, my portrayal is slightly canon-divergent from Before the Dawn:

1. Upon determining that Rumpole is a spy, Jax feigns ignorance and begins to use his semblance on her—subtly, but often—to gradually intensify her fear that Shade Academy will be torn apart by divisions between its own student body and refugee students from Beacon and Haven, while reinforcing her distrust of outsiders (quite a common attitude among city Vacuans) and "tough-love" pedagogical approach. Her behavior throughout the story is the same, but she isn't deliberately acting as a saboteur on Jax's behalf; her descent into paranoia and slide from "tough love" to "harsh abuse masquerading as tough love" is genuine, but fueled by his semblance.

2. Jax uses his semblance to exacerbate Yatsu's trauma from the Fall of Beacon and Team CFVY's harrowing efforts to help Glynda reclaim the school in the immediate aftermath, then makes his pitch that the Crown is the best, and indeed the only, chance Vacuo has to avoid the same fate while Yatsu is still reeling in terror—not mind control, but instead using his semblance to push Yatsu into a mental state to be vulnerable to normal manipulation. Yatsu falls for it for a short while, until he faces his teammates on the battlefield and Coco helps him ground himself.

Due to the nature of Jax's semblance, it won't be used in threads without specific prior discussion. However, as a rule of thumb: if we do plot it out and agree on Jax using his semblance on your character, its influence will intensify your character's natural decision-making, not force them to think or do what Jax wants. The effect will be subtle and start to fade within a few days without reinforcement, although repeated, consistent reinforcement can build up to much more dramatic shifts in behavior over time. Think similar to "what might my character think or do if they'd missed a night's sleep or not had a chance to eat today?"—Jax is a skilled manipulator who uses his semblance to render his victims more vulnerable to manipulation, but he cannot directly control thoughts, feelings, or actions.

#about.

0 notes