#also sadly I like to play women at all times if given the choice and I Do Not Care for Carth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ideal-girl · 2 years ago

Text

A couple of probably the last questions about Sam’s Story and Another Side; as I want to move on from this and into other stories. Feel free to take your time with this one (And sorry for the long length).

This was kinda asked the last time, but I guess I should have worded it better, and again sorry for NSFW but it still really befuddles me: why did the man Sam was dating (and a lot of men in general) just had to “end” the intimacy right where… well y’know. The treatment of women as just toys and objects to be discarded… I sadly get it. Hell even the refusal of contraceptives. But I still don’t quite grasp why a lot of them (like the man in Sam’s Story) couldn’t just “end” it in any other particular spot. If they refuse contraceptives, why do something that could risk a potentially life-changing moment (especially for people like Sam) if parenthood is something they’re not planning on? What is it about it that it’s something they think really needed to do?

Do you think Goth Mandy might have a thing for thorns? Maleficent and the hedge of thorns in Sleeping Beauty come to mind. I’m thinking of something like the shirt Mandy wears in this fanart below (credit to Luffy-kun) but with a thorn embroiled pattern instead of whatever this is. Could this mean anything symbolically for Mandy?

This is something that might play into my future stories (probably slice of life stories), have any Headcanons of how Mandy is as a wife to Sam and a mom? Thanks for responding to all of this, I really like the analyses you do.

(One more question but not related to these stories. You wrote in Transparent Parents that you were familiar with the show Batman Beyond, are you familiar with the superheroine Wonder Woman? If so, I might write her into that crossover prompt while getting that Journalist Mandy story ready)

Nia:

Why do men choose to impregnate women despite not wanting to be fathers?

Men have a sexualized (misogynist) perception of motherhood.

There are various male sexual fetishes and fantasies (most being evil; many being pedophilic) that revolve around pregnancy, despite there being an epidemic of neglectful, if not entirely absent fathers. Men are gratified by the vulnerable position pregnancy puts the women and her (unborn) child in, which is why they will go out of their way to make a pregnancy happen.

Men are also expected to be neglectful and/or absent fathers. This society has passively accepted that men will simply leave their children behind whenever they want to, not considering that mothers have the same motive and ability to be neglectful and/or absent. Most girls/women continue on, even when being a mother wasn’t their actual choice. This means that men retain the advantages of being fathers and don’t suffer any of the “consequences” of their actions (which are usually guided by pornography and/or misogyny).

The most significant advantage men have as fathers is control. This comes from the vulnerable position pregnancy and motherhood puts women and (unborn) children in. These fetishes often reference symptoms of pregnancy/motherhood like lactation, which serve as evidence of a man’s dominance over a woman and child. This isn’t metaphorical, intangible, or ridiculous fantasy or feeling, as even absent fathers can be given legal authority over the children they have never ever seen before (as an example).

This final point (control) could be developed further or explained better, and obviously not every man in the entire world is as I have seen many to be. However, this is a good enough answer to the question for now, I think. 😊

Would Goth Mandy have a thing for thorns? If so, what would thorns represent for her?

Goth Mandy would have a thing for thorns or barbed wire. That would appropriate for her, I think.

Goth Mandy may be the antithesis of Popular Mandy, but they share the same sense of social alienation and desire to take control of their environment. They just about it in different ways.

(I’m going somewhere with this.)

Popular Mandy wields considerable influence over others as the Most Popular Girl, and does various things to justify and maintain that role (win popularity contests, throw house parties, showcase elite possessions, etc). This in the hopes of attracting a crowd or clique that will keep her company, even if her relationships with them are illusionary and inherently unstable (due to the nature of “popularity”).

Goth Mandy would struggle with feelings of alienation and even loneliness, but because she does not believe in Beverly Hills and is unwilling to pretend otherwise. This is opposite of Popular Mandy, who is willing to pretend out of loneliness and fear of rejection. Goth Mandy would be proud of her status as social reject because she doesn’t want to lose herself, her only true friend.

I could see her constructing this shield around herself as a self-defense mechanism, which would be best represented as thorns. I see them as more beautiful version of a barbed wire fence, since I perceive that motif as being Goth Mandy’s means of keeping herself protected from those who may try to take her away from herself.

Mandy would secretly long to be a goth because she would secretly long to be her own best friend, which is only possible when you are willing to be alone. Goth Mandy finds refuge and inner strength in her solitude, and her shield is her self-protective attitude, which cannot belong to anyone else. Popular Mandy has a couple shields (popularity, wealth, beauty, etc) but those things belong to everyone else, not to her. Her peers ultimately decide if she is popular (or beautiful) to them and her belongings are used as lures. She probably does not enjoy them on her own.

I could see myself rambling on about this, lol. The main thing I wanted to say is that Goth Mandy likes her true self, while Popular Mandy struggles with self-acceptance because she does not like the messy parts she feels would get her abandoned. Goth Mandy is more powerful than Popular Mandy because she is willing to protect that True Self from the world, which is why she identifies with thorns. Popular Mandy probably desires that power, because that’s true control over chaos, but does not how to get it without giving up her Grandiose Self. She’s probably not ready to do that.

How would Mandy be like as a wife and mother?

Mandy will be a good wife and mother, but I can see her struggling a little bit with those roles. She might doubt herself or feel uncomfortable? This isn’t to say that she wouldn’t want to be married or a mother. It’s to say that Mandy (probably) never thought her dreams would come true, and now that everything is happening, she worries about whether or not it will last. Can she be happy? Can she avoid disappointing others?

I can see Mandy doubting her mothering skills and relying a lot on Sam to guide her. (That probably extends from the complicated relationship she has with her own mother, Phoebe.) But other than that initial discomfort and self-doubt, Mandy would be a very great mother and wife. I feel like she’s already very devoted, generous, and resourceful person. I also kinda envision her being a very…cool mom? I don’t know how to explain it, but Mandy would be a cool but responsible mother to me.

Actually, I’m going to have to better develop my whole answer to this question, lol.

Am I familiar with Wonder Woman?

I am familiar with Wonder Woman. I used to have Wonder Woman’s Book of Myths and I watched her on the Justice League and Justice League Unlimited shows. I also watch her 2009 animated movie yearly. The first time I watched it was in high school, and honestly it made me think about female separatism and all that. So yeah! I am familiar with her.

BTW I legit could not see the image you sent in until I was in the process of posting. I’ll keep in the mind next time. 😅

Also, it’s 9:42 PM! I was good on time, lol!

#submission #sam's story #sam's story-another side #sam #mandy #totally spies!

0 notes

batfamtv · 4 years ago

Text

(girls like girls) like boys do, nothing new

can you do a jealous carol x reader ? like reader has had long time crush on carol and admits her feelings only to get turned down bc carol has internalized homophobia and doesn’t know how to react. carol gets jealous when reader is moving on with another mcu character of your choice.

carol danvers x reader

warnings: internalized homophobia, failed the reverse bechdel test (women only talk about one (1) woman, a gay), no gays fighting over Y/N

word count: 2565 for the gays; set in avengers: endgame; everyone lives au

read part 1 here

Now, after a couple of years, you got promoted

Working under Nick Fury and caring for the Flerken really got you qualified to work in the field

And you did, with the best of the best: Natasha, the Black Widow, and Clint, Hawkeye

You were there when Loki destroyed New York, when Ultron threatened to destroy the world

Over time, your powers manifested, they have been dormant for the longest time

Speaking of dormant, you hadnt heard from Carol since the night she left

You talked to Nick, asked him if she’s ever stopped by, but she hasnt

“She’s busy saving the world, Y/N” he’d tell you, but that didnt make you feel better

You felt so hurt, by her reaction, her rejection, but you began to look forward

But you think about her everyday, wondering what could have been

Carol had given Nick a pager, “for emergencies only”, she reminded him, but she also gave you one

Carol told you that it’s just to make sure Fury doesnt send out some false alarms, but who was she kidding? Maybe she did want you to hit her up

But after all those years, you hadn’t

She looks at her pager every single day, wondering if the world would miss her if she decides to come see you, to clear things out

And you have thought about ringing her up too, in times when the world is in trouble, and in times when the feeling you have on your chest is sharp that you couldnt breathe

In times when you miss her so much you cry uncontrollably, hand over your mouth to make sure no one hears

To make sure no one hears how much you miss the woman you love

You were with Nick and Maria when it happened

It was chaos in the city, and you, Nick and Maria got out of the car to investigate

The drivers seats of cars are empty, helicopters crashing into buildings

Almost reflexively, your hand flew to your pocket, where the pager lay there, almost waiting for you to press it

“Y/N?” Maria sounded distressed, and when you turned to her, her body was disintegrating, like sand blown away by the wind

Nick was distressed and eyed you, “You have to call her. Call control.”

You didn’t hesitate, pressing the button as you watched Nick do the same to his pager, watching your mentor and friend disappear right in front of your eyes

When your right hand started to disappear, you moved the pager to your left hand, tears threatening to spill

You were going to die, alone, unloved, and not having told Carol how much you miss her

Her name was the last thing on your lips before you disappeared

When carol came back to earth, she didnt know anyone

But everyone was grateful to her, for returning tony

The burning question in her head, the one thing she almost didn’t want to admit

Where is the woman she loves?

Back then, way back when carol was still a child, she was told that there were a lot of things she couldnt do

She couldn’t be strong, couldn’t play baseball--because she was a woman

She couldn’t join the air force, couldn’t be a pilot--because she was a woman

All of these things she couldn’t do, but there has always been one thing she was not allowed to do, not allowed to be

Because she was a woman, she is not allowed to like other women

Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could break the glass ceiling and become an air force captain, but there was one thing that she just was not allowed to do

And that was to acknowledge weird, different feelings for women

That has always been the case, it was drilled into her being, ever since she was a child

Girls can’t like other girls

And you confessing your feelings to her years ago forced her to acknowledge that her feelings for you were not at all platonic, that she didn’t stay with you for 3 days just because you were a good friend to her

Carol had to face the facts that being with you reminded her that she was human, and deep down, like the child that she was a long time ago, she had feelings that she didn’t believe were right

And she understood that her running away was not the right thing to have done, that she, who almost prided herself for being able to face her problems head on, was not ready to face this one problem that she had been forced to hide deep down, for years and years

Carol Danvers had always liked girls, and she liked you

Carrying that aircraft containing tony stark and nebula did not bother her one bit, what bothered her was that she was coming to earth after all these years

Somehow she believes that she is being forced to finally deal with abandoning you after all these years

But in spite of this, carol is feeling excited about this, because finally, after all these years...she had made peace with it

Girls like girls like boys do, nothing new

And all it took for her to realize that was the beeping of the pager

When everything had settled down, carol had been graciously offered a change of clothes by Pepper, who was hysterically thanking her for bringing tony back

The atmosphere was morbid, everyone in silent despair, and she was quietly begging for someone to fill up the spaces of what has happened on earth since she was last there

Finally, surrounded by a group of people calling themselves the “Avengers” (carol raised an eyebrow at this, asking if nick fury was the one who assembled the group, “Yeah, how’d you know?” Rhodes asked, and she shrugged and said “Lucky guess”), she was finally brought to speed

“It’s been 23 days since Thanos came to earth”

Holograms of people Carol believed were part of this team are projected around her

“We’re trying to take a census, and it looks like he did exactly what he said he was gonna do”

Nick Fury’s face appeared on the screen, much to Carol’s shock

Tears were brimming in her eyes, thinking about the distress call from Nick

Because if Nick sent the distress call and is now, as Natasha said, wiped out...does that mean…?

“Thanos wiped out...50% of all the living creatures”

Y/N’s face appeared in front of Carol not long after

With that, Carol exhaled as tears finally fell down her cheeks...she had her suspicions, but hoped--no, begged--for it to be false

Y/N was gone

And carol was too late

Tony stark had been upset...and collapsed, Carol, who was still in shock, was staring at the hologram of Y/N in front of her

“Carol, right?”

Carol turned, regarding Natasha with a nod

They hadn’t had the chance to properly introduce themselves, but Carol didn’t think there was any time

“Carol Danvers,” Steve added with a chuckle, “I think we all know you by name before we even met you”

“Fury really singing me praises, huh?” Carol was almost amused

Natasha smiled sadly, “Not Fury,” and she and Steve turned their heads toward the hologram of Y/N

“Whenever she had the chance, she would talk about “her”, Y/N’s greatest love,” Natasha whispered, remembering how she and Clint always pretended to be annoyed whenever Y/N would go on and on about this really powerful superhero who shined like the sun, and lit a flame in her heart

And as much as Carol wanted to bask in the appreciation, she felt nothing but shame, knowing she abandoned Y/N, and wasn’t able to save her

Glancing back at the hologram, she eyed her once more

Years had been good to Y/N, still beautiful as ever, leaving her breathless, but she wasn’t there anymore

And Carol knew what she had to do

If she couldn’t save Y/N, Carol could avenge her

Rhodes approached her, Natasha, and Steve, “He’s probably gonna be out for the rest of the day”, referring to tony

With a resolute look on her face, she said, “You guys take care of him, and I’ll bring him a Xorrian elixir when I come back”

Confused, Natasha, Steve and Rhodes glanced at each other before Steve asked, “Where are you going?”

“To kill Thanos,” Carol said matter-of-factly

Natasha could almost feel the anger Carol was radiating with, so she hurried to catch up to her, “You know, we usually work as a team here…”

When Natasha finally had the chance, she pulled carol over to the side to talk to her privately

“I know that you usually work on your own, that there are worlds out there who need you, but earth needs you too”

She was convincing Carol to stay, to try and create a better world for the people who survived, but it was getting quite hard for Carol to remain on earth

“I don’t…” Carol shook her head, “I don’t have much left on earth.”

“If you can’t stay, atleast come from time to time,” Natasha begged, “This was your home, wasn’t it? This was Y/N’s too.”

And Natasha was right, Carol thought, and in more ways than one, it was her home. But now it’s empty, and Carol is in mourning and she had never felt so alone

All those years, she thought she could live with what she did knowing that Y/N she was still on Earth, possibly with someone who is not ashamed of who she is, who is not ashamed to accept their own feelings

And Carol was okay with that thought, but now…

She couldn’t stand being on Earth knowing Y/N wasn’t there

It was like coming home to a cold and empty house

But she looked at Natasha, finally with the courage to ask her what she had been thinking all this time, “Were you and Y/N together?”

“No,” Natasha answered, almost teasingly

Carol felt relief, but above all, she felt obligated

To do right by Y/N

So she agreed to visit and report from time to time, “For Y/N. Because I need to do right by Y/N.”

When Carol returned to earth after 5 years, Thanos was there, and so was everybody who had disappeared 5 years ago

In spite of all the chaos, she couldn’t help the voice in her head, asking, “Is Y/N here? Is she safe?”

But you were nowhere to be found, and she had promised to scour the world for you later

Thanos was defeated, but it was in exchange for the lives of Tony and Natasha

With a heavy heart, everyone attended their funerals, all grieving the loss of two of their comrades, friends

At the funeral, Carol stood at the distance, watching behind everybody else

Behind her, Nick was there, and they exchanged solemn nods and opted to wait until the end of the funeral to reconnect

“You came,” was the first thing Fury said, after all those years that they haven’t seen each other

With a small chuckle, she nodded, “Don’t flatter yourself, I didn’t come because you called.”

“I know,” Fury retorted, amused, “You came because she called, right?”

Carol’s mouth opened, lips about to ask a question she had been dying to ask ever since she came back, but no words came out

When everything was chaos and adrenaline and fighting, Carol was not scared

But now that the dust has settled, she was terrified...because now there was no more excuse to avoid what her heart has been begging her to do

Before she could push the question out of her mouth, Fury handed her a piece of paper. “She’s off-duty. Gave her a whole damn month to recuperate from being wiped off the face of the planet.”

And when Carol unfolded the piece of paper, it was just an address

Nodding gratefully to Fury, Carol turned to leave, about to face her biggest obstacle yet

From what she could tell, it was a safehouse

Apparently, Y/N was someone high up the organization that they had warranted her one

Just a little cottage out on the countryside, a palace she had always wanted

Carol laughed whenever she remember you saying, “Maybe one day I could afford a little house in the middle of Kansas, meet Clark Kent and Lois Lane...I don’t know”

And here you were, at a small little house in the countryside

Carol watched you, almost ashamed to just be staring at you while you make yourself some breakfast

As she approached the porch, she wondered how she could take on the mad titan Thanos, but is now shaking as she brought her knuckles to knock on your door, extremities suddenly feeling cold, and knees wobbling to support her weight

She could barely hear your footsteps because of the blood rushing to her head, to her face, heart beating wildly

And when you opened the door, she noted how your eyes widened the tiniest bit, mouth opened in surprise when you realized who was on the other side

“Hi, Y/N,” was the first thing she croaked out

“You…” you smiled at her, “you changed your hair”

With a laugh, she nodded, running a hand through her short hair, before she let her hand down

Slowly counting to three

And engulfed you in a hug

Absolutely-swept-you-off-your-feet hug, your feet leaving the ground as her arms wound tightly across your waist, almost crushing you

And when you heard her inhale into the nape of your neck, it was like a reflex that you threw your arms around her neck, squeezing her just as tight

And Carol wanted to apologize, and confess, and plead for you to give her another chance

She wanted to tell you that she’s sorry for leaving, i was so confused and i was scared to come back and have you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t forgive me for what i did, but i have made peace with who i am and know what i want and what i want is you and your happiness and you and you

And she may have tried to make a letter to help her organize her thoughts

You held her shoulders back, looking at her, really looking at her, after all these years, and you use your thumbs to wipe away the tears running down her face as she shyly laughed at you and held your hands to her cheeks and kept it there for a second, relishing in your heat because you were finally here, after all this time, after 5 long years you are alive

And she brought your hands down and cupped your face and leaned in

And touched her lips to yours, gently, lovingly, finally

You can taste the saltiness of her tears, but also her apologies, and love, and devotion and you kissed her back, smiling

And as you pulled away, you wiped her tears again, before holding her hands, guiding Carol inside, “Let’s eat breakfast.”

And Carol Danvers, for once, was selfish, and did not think of the world needing her help, because she knows that the world would be fine if Carol stayed home for a while

And home is wherever you are

a/n: thank you so much for your support! i rly hope you like this ;__;

#Carol Danvers #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers x reader #Captain Marvel #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #Brie Larson #brie larson imagine #brie larson x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #WLW #wlw imagine #lesbian #lesbian imagine #batfamtv

423 notes · View notes

travoltacustom · 4 years ago

Text

The Presentation of Hifumi’s Trauma

I’ve been thinking on how Hifumi’s trauma has been presented for years now, and with the release of Bad Ass Temple VS Matenro, I feel like now’s as good a time as any to give my thoughts on this.

Note: This is in no way a defense of KR for the presentation of Hifumi’s trauma, but it is an analysis of such. I’m open to discussion on this and you’re free to disagree with me at any point on this. Most of this was also written BEFORE the release of the album, save for the last section.

CW: Mentions of abuse, trauma and rape + spoilers of the MTR dramatrack

I hear a lot that the presentation of Hifumi’s trauma is a ‘poor attempt at humour’, but I don’t exactly think it’s that simple. It is still a presentation of trauma, but it’s not portrayed as humorous in comparison to the rest of the humour of the series.

NARRATIVE

Hifumi panics when he sees women. He is unable to do anything until women are removed from the scene - but these instances are hardly ever the focus of the scene. It’s mostly used as a scene cutter to progress the story. When Chuo enters, Hifumi’s panic cuts off the situation and the focus shifts straight to the women. When the women find Hifumi, Doppo, Gentaro and Dice, Hifumi’s jacket is taken away to shift focus off of the women and to have Gentaro and Dice speak. Rather, Hifumi’s panic at these times are plot movers and not the focal point of the scene. Sadly, they can be seen as plot devices, but it’s not supposed to be seen as humour.

In addition to this, the ‘hysterical’ screaming (for lack of a better word) in the presence of women is limited to the dramatracks. In the manga and the anime, Hifumi runs away/removes himself from the presence of women. The purpose of Hifumi’s hysteria in the dramatracks is for visualisation purposes as there’s no visual aids - the reactions to women are toned down in the anime and manga. With this, it’s easier to believe that the anime and manga is the ‘intended’ portrayal of his reactions as the dramatrack has to make up for what isn’t seen.

PRESENTATION

The narrative is very aware that Hifumi’s trauma affects him badly. It’s a panic response. But it’s not the same as a panic attack. We know how awful the presentation of such can be, and it’s definitely something triggering for a lot of people. Personally, I would feel horrible to see him have a panic attack every time he saw a woman. KR doesn’t want to make his discomfort the focus of the scene either. Simply put, I think his trauma response is a part of the scene, but has less plot purpose than what is going on around it.

Trauma can be presented in different ways, but it’s more controlled to see only a glimpse of how trauma has affected Hifumi. There are other ways of showing this trauma and how it’s affected Hifumi that HPMI has already covered: Hifumi being unable to take off his suit jacket, behavioural change when wearing the jacket, his extremely warped perception of danger when his life is threatened etc. He’s spent 10 years adapting to the trauma and is in a stage of recovery as he’s going to confront his said abuser. If we were compounding this plot point with an idea of a Hifumi that is always having panic attacks, then we would have a Hifumi that is clearly not ready to deal with what he wants.

COMPARISON

We know the writers can portray trauma as such from Jyushi’s backstory. If we remember the fandom response, there were people who were legitimately triggered to varying degrees by what happened to Jyushi’s grandmother and the severe bullying he suffered. Really, I believe that Hifumi’s trauma hasn’t been the forefront of scenes because narratively it’s not the time for this to happen yet.

There seems to be a ‘trauma-porn’ narrative around the need to have Hifumi’s trauma played out ‘correctly. Trauma porn is media that showcases a group’s pain and trauma in excessive amounts for the sake of entertainment. There’s no need right now to show the extent of how badly Hifumi has been affected, because his trauma isn’t the focal point of the story or his character. His past is about to be shown, but it shouldn’t be what defines Hifumi as a character. And even more importantly so, there’s no ‘right’ version of trauma to portray.

HONOBONO

[ This section is written post Bad Ass Temple VS Matenro’s dramatrack.]

There are no redeeming qualities to Honobono, the source of Hifumi’s trauma. She’s despised by Chuohku and kept around for her ‘usefulness’, and Doppo was unsure of Hifumi going to confront his own abuser. However, in the recent dramatrack, Hifumi’s power is taken away from him in Honobono forcing herself into his space. This is the first time we’ve ever seen Hifumi have an explosion of emotions; ‘a typical image of a panic attack’. It is an audibly uncomfortable scene, just as Jyushi’s backstory was to read. There are different levels to trauma responses that HPMI has shown us with the 1st season’s Hifumi with short moments, but this instance is long and drawn out with guttural screaming.

HPMI was always perfectly capable of showing trauma, but for a listener, to hear this sort of occurrence every time around a woman would be potentially harmful. At this moment, Hifumi was nearly completely paralysed, suffering a breakdown of his identity by switching pronouns and screaming (similar to Gentaro’s breakdown at the insult of his clothes). It is difficult to listen to this. I don’t believe you would’ve wanted to hear this every time Hifumi was reminded of Honobono. We’ve even learned that the abuse might not have been dealt directly to Hifumi but to his family - we see Hifumi’s love for his family here in being so torn by her actions, and how trauma does not have to deal with someone directly either. However, the first instances of Hifumi’s trauma were more ‘digestible’ for a viewer, and they set us up for this moment. It was good that Hifumi’s panic responses were less heavy than the blow we’ve been dealt with this dramatrack.

In meeting Hifumi, Honobono greets her with “Hi-Fu-Mi”, just like how Hifumi says his own name in songs. It is most likely that Honobono said his name like this when they were in highschool; for Hifumi to use it in his songs now can be seen as a reclamation of his identity, as now Honobono can’t use his own name against him. Hifumi has spent years recovering from her, and seeing small hints of how he’s trying to move on from that time is a legitimately good way to understand the recovery from trauma.

WHAT IS IT?

The HPMI fandom seemed to have an ‘obsession’ with what exactly traumatised Hifumi up until this point. Most believed that it would have been sexual abuse/rape, given that he fears the opposite gender, and it wouldn’t have been the first time sexual themes have appeared in HPMI (the trafficked women at the start of BB/MTC’s manga). However, to think that ‘there is only one sort of trauma that can cause Hifumi’s pain’ is a dangerous idea. Almost anything can be traumatising, and almost anything can be a trigger.

There’s no need to theorise ‘what is good enough’ to be a trauma for him. To fear women, it can simply be that a woman has done something bad to him - which we see is Honobono. When we hear women fearing men because a man did something bad to them, we don’t theorise what exactly happened to her. There’s the automatic assumption that gendered fear is the result of sexual abuse, when in reality, it can be any manner of abuse that has caused this.

OPINIONS

So I don’t think KR is portraying Hifumi’s trauma as humorous. It’s definitely awkward, but the narrative has constantly made it clear that he’s in a state of discomfort that stems from trauma and Doppo and Jakurai always do their best to move him out of those situations without drawing too much attention. Nobody in the story laughs at him, save for Asunaro, who’s an ill-mannered child without sensitivity towards both Doppo and Hifumi, and Honobono, the source of his trauma. Those who don’t understand Hifumi in the adult cast however only find confusion in him.

There’s no ‘best’ portrayal of trauma in any media. But it’s clear that HPMI isn’t trying to be malicious or poke fun at any sort of trauma at all. If anything, I think the portrayal of it so far has been relatively ‘easy’ on common audiences that don’t explore such media, helping people to realise how trauma can manifest without forcing others who do have trauma to realise their pained experience in this media. Hifumi has been painted as someone relatable to those with trauma because he’s still a man who’s capable of doing his best while still stumbling along his way to recovery. Traumatised shouldn’t be the descriptor of Hifumi, but he is a character that has been traumatised.

While Honobono and her abuse is an integral part of Hifumi’s backstory, she does not define him as a person. To portray Hifumi as a strong character, despite moments of trauma responses, was a suitable choice in treating him respectably.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hifumi izanami #analysis

199 notes · View notes

gch1995 · 4 years ago

Text

I’m 25 going on 26 now, and I grew up loving the classic Powerpuff Girls cartoon series when I was a kid. Even now when I rewatch it as an adult, it’s still a cute and funny cartoon, especially now that I’m old enough to recognize all of the adult jokes. Like, there’s no way it was a coincidence that Professor Utonium’s despicably dishonest, greedy, lazy, manipulative, selfish, and sleazy former roommate from college was given the name Professor Dick Hardly by accident.

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup actually are pretty relatable little girls who have believable flaws and insecurities. They make believable bad choices for little girls. Those issues actually get dealt with seriously, rather than just being brushed aside as no big deal with no negative consequences. They are still endearing and sympathetic in spite of their flaws.

While he had a few OOC moments of bad parenting in some bad episodes here and there, generally speaking, Professor Utonium from the classic Powerpuff Girls is actually one of the best dads in cartoons that I’ve ever seen, which is sadly pretty rare in most cartoon sitcoms, even the ones that are actually aimed at a children audience.

Most cartoon dads are abusive, lazy, neglectful, selfish, and stupid oafs. Granted, those type of dads in cartoon sitcoms can actually be entertaining and funny to watch when they are actually being well-written as shitty and slow-witted, but still essentially well-meaning people in regards to their families, such as S1-S8 Homer Simpson from The Simpsons and even S1-S3 Peter Griffin from Family Guy. However, the entertainment quality of those shitty, but well-meaning cartoon dads was mostly lost when the writers flanderdized their negative traits to the point of making Homer and especially Peter downright despicable with little to no redeeming or sympathetic qualities much of the time anymore. They went from being shitty, but essentially well-meaning parents and husbands to downright bratty and spoiled man-children who were much more intentionally abusive, childish, cruel, neglectful, petty, and selfish in regards to their families and others around them with little to no sympathetic or redeeming qualities much of the time anymore, and that’s one of the biggest reasons why The Simpsons went downhill in quality after S8, and why Family Guy went downhill in quality after S3.

Nonetheless, even as they were originally written on their shows pre-flanderdization when they were still well-meaning, but misguided parents and spouses, cartoon dads like Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin, weren’t good dads on the whole. There were still plenty of recurring plot lines and/or gags of them being abusive, lazy, neglectful, reckless, and selfish. Back in early seasons pre-flanderdization, it was more forgivable, though, because they also still had their fair share of kind and selfless moments with their families, and their shittiness as parents wasn’t intentionally abusive, malicious, premeditated, and selfish in nature, which balanced them out enough to still be entertaining and likable characters in spite of their flaws.

Realistically speaking, though, dads like Peter Griffin and Homer Simpson would be better off having their kids taken away from them by CPS. Their good qualities and lack of malicious intent, particularly in earlier seasons pre-flanderdization, would still not hold up as legitimate excuse as to why they should be allowed to keep their kids. Bart would have bruises all over his neck, fractures in his neck, and he could possibly be killed if Homer strangled him hard enough to actually break his neck and/or cut off his air supply long enough in real life just once. Meg, Chris, and even Stewie would not only be injured, but actually outright killed in real life from some of the abuse and neglect that Peter and Lois put them through in later seasons of FG. All of these kids, especially Meg, would have serious self-esteem issues for the rest of their lives because Peter, Lois’, and Homer’s abuse and neglect of their kids went beyond just a pattern of being physical in nature, but emotionally and verbally abusive as well.

So yeah, Peter Griffin and Homer Simpson are really not good fathers who you’d ever want to deal with for a parent in real life, even pre-flanderdization. The major reoccurrence of the abusive, bumbling, idiotic, lazy, drunken, neglectful, and selfish dad trope in cartoon sitcoms is exactly why I really love Professor Utonium from the classic PPG cartoon. I don’t necessarily mind it in absurdist cartoon sitcoms when it’s done well as a trope, but I’m also getting tired of mostly just seeing bad and stupid dads in cartoon sitcoms, and not enough good ones.

For the most part, the OG Professor Utonium is a great dad who goes above and beyond to make sure Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup are happy, healthy, disciplined, and safe. He’s usually the parent most of us wish we could have in real life, if we don’t already. It’s refreshing to actually see a good dad in an animated sitcom for once.

Professor Utonium in the classic PPG cartoon is generally a very kind, loving, selfless, and supportive dad to girls. However, he also knows when he has to discipline them and be strict without ever being mean about it. He gives them good advice. He’s very selfless, and even though the girls are superheroes with superhuman abilities, he’ll still risk and/or sacrifice anything to protect them when they’re unable to protect themselves with their powers, including his own life. He didn’t need to be the stereotypical cartoon sitcom abusive, bumbling, dumb, and neglectful dad in order to be funny either. He was funny because he could sometimes be overprotective of the girls, and he could sometimes embarrass them by calling them sickly sweet terms of endearment and telling embarrassing stories that he shouldn’t have about them in public. He was socially awkward. These are relatable flaws in parents that even the best ones have.

While the girls don’t have a mother, Ms. Bellum and Ms. Keane were very brave, kind, and intelligent strong women who were good role models.

Also, the Professor did many activities with the girls and chores around the house that get gender-coded as “mother’s work.” Some of these things include begrudgingly playing dress up as Bubbles to make her happy when she was playing PowerPuff Girls with Buttercup and Blossom on a rainy day inside of no crime when he saw that she was upset that no one wanted to be her, cooking, cleaning, and actually sitting down to talk with the girls, listen to them, emotionally support them, and give them advice. He’s also not afraid to be openly affectionate, doting, and emotional with the girls. There’s just not enough good dads in cartoon sitcoms, which is why I really like Professor Utonium from the OG PowerPuff Girls cartoon and movie. He mostly defied all the bad dad stereotypes, and was a really great one to the girls more often than not.

The main villains from the classic PowerPuff Girls cartoon are incredibly entertaining, especially MoJo JoJo. Him was always the creepiest to me because he was the most devious, insidious, and manipulative one. All of the psychological abuse and manipulation he put the girls and Townsville through was always the scariest to me when I was a kid because out of all the villains on the show, the torment that he wreaked upon the girls and Townsville by brainwashing them, gaslighting them, and/or exploiting their fears and insecurities often was played as dead serious with really scary results, especially in early seasons of classic PPG. While Him had a few human moments here and there, for the most part, he was pretty consistently played off as being seriously scary and dangerous.

MoJo JoJo was an egomaniacal asshole hellbent on destroying the PowerPuff Girls and world domination, and on a few occasions, he actually came close to succeeding. On a few occasions, he genuinely was more scary than camp evil. But he still had a lot of humorous, human, fallible, and relatable moments, too. My favorite MoJo moments are the ones where he is making jokes, irritably going grocery shopping to get eggs, getting too frustrated by the girls antics and childish behaviors and reactions to actually go through with his plans to destroy them at certain points, and getting angry and jealous enough to actually destroy the alien/robot invader from another planet who was destroying Townsville in all the evil ways that he always wanted to himself. He was highly intelligent at coming up with clever schemes and inventions with all his science and technology to take over the world, destroy Townsville, and/or destroy the PowerPuff Girls. However, his arrogance, impatience, and impulsivity always doomed him to fail to succeed in the end, though he did come pretty close on a few occasions, especially in the 2002 prequel origin story movie, and he did actually get to rule the world in “The PowerPuff Girls Rule the World!” Surprisingly, he actually was a kindhearted ruler who did good things, but then he gave it all up and went back to being evil because he got bored.

Originally, MoJo was a well-intentioned extremist who wanted to create a utopia ruled by primates where they would never be controlled or rejected by humans again. As much as Professor Utonium’s irritation with JoJo for being a destructive chimp lab assistant was completely justified, it’s also hard not to feel kind of sorry for Mojo Jojo and understand where he’s coming from in his motivations to become evil, particularly in the 2002 prequel movie because originally all he really wanted was to be loved by his owner, too. He understandably felt rejected when Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup became the center of his universe instead. Of course, that doesn’t excuse him for choosing to respond to the Professor’s rejection by becoming an arrogant, evil, cruel, hateful, hypocritical, domineering, manipulative, petty, selfish, and vengeful villain going on a quest for world domination, attempting to commit homicide several times, probably committing voluntary manslaughter of citizens several times that we didn’t see on screen when destroying Townsville all those times, turning the rest of the world into dogs to try to take over the world, and trying to destroy the girls. However, you understand why Mojo became the villain he did with his backstory. He’s relatable. Occasionally, he does have some genuinely sympathetic moments where he’s actually willing to be friendly with the girls, team up with them, and do the right thing.

HIM was just the personification of evil for no other reason than the fact that he was satan. While MoJo was a complex, human, and relatable anti-villain with his origin story as the Professor’s lab chimp, who gained genius-level human intellect from having Chemical X splashed on his brain, and then chose to become evil after feeling rejected by the Professor when he saw how he pretty much forget about him once the girls became the center of his universe instead, HIM was evil, manipulative, and hateful for no other reason than the fact that those traits were a part of his nature as the very embodiment of evil. Many times, a fictional villain being portrayed as one-dimensional with no sympathetic qualities or relatable motivations will annoy me, but with HIM being evil just because that’s who he is, it actually works because he is literally Satan. There doesn’t need to be a deeper sympathetic story behind why he is evil. Committing crimes, wreaking havoc, corrupting people, manipulating people, turning people against others, exploiting the fears of others, and deceiving others for his own amusement is just who he is, and in the early seasons of classic PPG in particular, that made him really scary to me when I was a six year old little girl watching the cartoon on TV.

You get the idea...The classic PowerPuff Girls was a fantastic cartoon, particularly the first four seasons. Granted, there was some series seasonal rot going on in the writing in S5 and S6 after the 2002 prequel movie, and Craig Mcracken and Gennedy Tartakovsky’s departure from the crew. Like, the characterizations of the characters and/or storylines in S5 and S6 felt comparably flanderdized, ooc, immature, inconsistent, pointless, shallow, and underwhelming at certain times to fit the plot, such as in the episodes “Keen on Keane,” “Pee Pee G’s,” “Seed No Evil,” “Reeking Havoc,” “Toast of the Town,” “Say Uncle,” “City of Clipsville,” “”Bubble Boy,” A Made Up Story,” “Mo’linguish,” and “Simian Says.” Even the good episodes of S5-S6 still didn’t ever reach the same level of greatness of the ones from S1-S4. However, the seasonal rot in the classic PPG cartoon of S5-S6 after Craig McCracken and Gennedy Tartakovsky’s departure still wasn’t nearly as bad as the seasonal rot on The Simpsons after S8, Family Guy after S3, and SpongeBob SquarePants post S3–S4 ish, so I’m still willing to consider most of S5-S6 of classic PPG legit canon.

However, it sounds like the 2016 PPG reboot fucked up everything that was originally good about it to go for a more slapstick comedic feel without substance without consistency, depth, and intelligence. Now, I hear that the CW is making a live-action TV show spin-off of the PowerPuff Girls being jaded and resentful young women who’ve given up crime fighting as result! No, no, no! Why? Why does the CW keep making dark, nitty, and gritty live action teen soap operas out of beloved childhood cartoons?

Yeah, the original PowerPuff Girls cartoon and movie had dark moments. The girls could be bratty and make bad choices sometimes. However, it was still very much a fun show about normal little girls born with superpowers, which they chose to use to defend their father, their city, and on some occasions, the whole world, from crime. No one ultimately forced them to be superheroes for everyone in the classic PPG cartoon and movie. They chose to do it because they had brave and selfless hearts. There was ultimately no obligation for them to be superheroes in the classic PPG cartoon and movie. Sure, they got tired of fighting crime at times, but they still ultimately enjoyed doing it when push came to shove. They weren’t weighed down by the darkness of the world, hatred, and resentment. They still were relatively normal little girls with happy, peaceful, and normal lives of little girls whenever they weren’t fighting crime after the events of the prequel movie about their origins. That’s what made the PowerPuff Girls classic cartoon so special.

By turning Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup into jaded young women, who have given up on being superheroes because they’ve grown resentful of “losing the normal childhood to crime fighting” that they basically are shown to have in the original series for the most part in their spare time aside from having superpowers that they chose to use to fight crime to defend their dad and Townsville from, anyway, where is the fun in that?

#ppg classic #ppg #PowerPuff girls classic was an amazing cartoon!#there was some seasonal rot bad writing in classic PPG after S4 and Craig McCracken and Gennedy Tartovsky’s departure from the show #also looking back at even some of the early seasons of classic PPG Buttercup tended to get treated as a butt-monkey in her few centric Ed #but the seasonal rot moments of bad writing in S5-S6 of classic PPG wasn’t THAT bad so for the most part I’m willing to give it a pass #mojo jojo #him #professor utonium #blossom utonium #bubbles utonium #buttercup utonium #sara bellum #mayor #ms. keane #anti the cw live action PowerPuff girls!#is nothing from the childhoods of those of us who grew up in the early to mid 2000s sacred anymore?#what’s next a CW live action spin off of SpongeBob Squarepants in which SpongeBob works as a drug dealer for mob boss Mr. Krabs?#a CW live action spin off of Johnny Bravo where fool JD is actually rewarded for hitting on women who are strangers?#a cw live action reboot of dexter’s laboratory in which dexter grows up to run a crystal meth lab?#a CW live action spin-off of Courage the Cowardly Dog in which Muriel is a terrible pet owner too?#a CW live action of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends in which Mac is diagnosed as a schizophrenic who hallucinated in the OG series?#omg! just let these beloved cartoons RIP please!#Come up with something new! Stop ruining good cartoons from the past by reviving them into something they were never meant to be!

179 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years ago

Text

A heavenly reunion pt. 2; Queen x reader

*Author's note*

And here's the last part of our last chapter of the Rock Angel series.

First of all I just wanna thank ALL OF YOU for your support. This was the FIRST fic I wrote that got me into the Queen/BoRhap fandom and (much like my Bad Wolf series) "Set it all free" was just gonna be a one-time oneshot. But YOU, the people on tumblr inspired me to make this into a series, so thanks to you guys for your lovely support of this series, cause without you, I don't know if I would've continued on after a few chapters till it might've caught up with "Set it all free". But thank you all, you guys are BEYOND AWESOME and I love each and every one of you.

Until the next update :)

ALSO LISTEN TO THE MUSIC CHOICES BELOW. CAUSE THIS PART IS A HEART-PULLER/TEAR-JERKER.

*Final ROCK ANGEL taglist (sniffles sadly)*

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@sparkleslightlyy

@starswin

@onebigfangirlworld

@labessieisallama

@naturalswifty89

@5sos-wdw

@isabella-bby

@ssa-sadboi

@bohemiansweede

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@queen-paladin

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

____________________________________________________________

"(Y/n), (y/n)." I felt someone shake my arm gently trying to wake me up. I looked up and I turned to see Brian sitting by my bedside.

"What Bri?" I tiredly groaned.

"Come downstairs with me, there's someone else the guys and I want you to meet."

"Do I have to get dressed?"

"I think you'll be just fine love. C'mon." He helped me get up and wrapped an arm around my shoulders guiding me down the stairs since I was still bloody tired.

We soon arrived in the piano room right where I had first met David and Elton. The first thing I notice was the other three queens all grinning at me, like they were keeping something from me but wanted to tell me.

"What's going on here?" I asked wearily.

"Darling, as I'm sure Brian told you, we have some people we'd like you to meet." Freddie spoke up.

"Guys if it's any of the singers that have long passed before my time, I think I met them all last night at the concert."

"Well these two are artists you haven't met." He finished for me. At this point I was confused. It was then Roger spoke up.

"It took us several meetings with the 'Big man' himself, to allow you to meet these two who have been waiting an eternity to see you again."

"Again?" I asked. They all smiled widely at each other and that's when Deacy opened up the slide in door and two figures came walking in.

PLAY VIDEO

Two figures I had not seen, in a very, very, very long time. The man looked to be in his mid-30's with shoulder length (h/c) and (e/c) eyes, he was semi built not overly muscular but not quite twig-like thin. The woman was around her early 30's if not late 20's the youngest being 28 with midback (h/c) and bright (e/c).

"Again." The man said. I was gaping, my body froze and I felt like collapsing there crying hysterically.

For standing there before me were none other than my parents.

"We've been waiting a long time for you (Y/n)," my mum started off.

"It's been far too long but now you're finally here." I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes began to fill with tears as I choked out.

"After all this time you two were both here just waiting for me to finally arrive just so that I can fall to the ground and cry hysterically. Dreaming of the day when I—I would try to figure out what to say to you both when I would see you if I ever saw you. And now it—it's finally happening. You two standing before me....." as I spoke, both my parents slowly walked toward me with soft eyes. "And I can't even......I just can't believe it. You two are actually here?"

"Yes my darling little cub, every day for your whole life." My mum said as she cupped my face in her hands. Tears of happiness glistened in her eyes as she praised me through a lump in her throat, "And we are so, so proud of you." I looked down but she still kept hold of my face.

"Oh mummy, daddy!" My mum immediately hugged me as tight as she could as we both wept. I nuzzled my face into her chest as she held onto me so tightly while stroking through my hair.

*3rd Person POV*

As they watched the two women hug each other, Freddie and Deacy who stood side by side each other couldn't help but have their hands over their hearts at such a moment. They all have heard the stories of her parents and whatever photos she had saved back home, so they knew what her parents looked like.

But now finally seeing (Y/n) reunite with the parents she had lost at such a young age, forced to being verbally abused by her aunt and uncle it was just heartwarming yet heartbreaking to see this touching and well-earned reunion.

After being tightly embraced and kissed beyond oblivion by her mum, (Y/n) felt a hand at her shoulder and saw it was her dad. He smiled and allowed his tears to fall as he embraced his daughter.

Roger and Brian, being the father figures for her down on earth were all smiles and teary eyed at seeing their surrogate daughter finally reunited with her real father once more. They had the privilege to help protect her in her young adult life, but they knew they'd never compare to the actual love this man had for his little girl.

(F/n) cupped his daughter's face gently in his strong, calloused hands and wiped away his daughter's tears before giving her a kiss on the nose, like he's done in the past. A move that Brian never knew her own father did, but was honored to have given (Y/n) a piece of affection that her real father had done.

By the end of it all, (Y/n) ended up sandwiches between her parents by the end as they were now on their knees. Her head buried into her father's chest as his arms were wrapped around her back while her mum rested her head against her daughter's and had her arms wrapped around her daughter's waist. (F/n) looked up at the four band members and said gratefully.

"Thank you." The four queens nodded and Deacy said.

"We'll give you three some privacy."

"No, please stay!" (Y/n) whimpered out. "I want my whole family here right now." At hearing that statement, who were the boys to deny their Rock Angel. With acceptance from the parents, the four men all got in on the group hug.

(Y/n) once more surrounded by the people that had loved her the most.

With some major convincing as well to bring her parents here to the 'Rock heaven' Queen and the Rock Angel had here, they also managed to move a quiet little cottage just up the road for (f/n) and (m/n) to live in.

When (y/n) and the boys went to visit the house, (y/n) was amazed to see that it looked exactly like her childhood home before she was forced into the hell house of her aunt and uncle. It was all the same, the tan wallpaper, the curtains, the bookshelves, the little TV, everything.

*My POV*

Wow, my parents and my boys together. I can't believe how lucky I am. Now my heaven really is the best of both worlds. And I never want to be away from it again.

We were all gathered around the dinner table for some well deserved breakfast. My mum was cooking in the kitchen with Deacy helping her out while me, my dad and Brian were setting up the table and as for Fred, Roger and my dad were out talking in the backyard.

"Breakfast is ready!" my mum called out from the window. Her and Deacy began bringing in the dishes and even Brian helped out with some of the biscuits.

"Mhm, mum this is so good. Just as I remembered breakfast being." As I took a bite of my pancakes.

"I'm glad you still love it dear. I was worried I had prepared it wrong."

"Nonsense, your cooking is superb (m/n) darling!" Freddie proclaimed.

"That's what I've always told you love." My dad said.

"You're just saying that because I was the cook of the family. Poor man can't even boil an egg without setting it on fire."

"Well that's one thing you and Rog have in common." Deacy teased.

"I got better didn't I?"

"Ten years later, the guy tried to poison us one time during our Japan tour." Brian spoke up.

"You know what Brian?" Roger started as Brian gave him a mocking look.

"Alright boys enough. No fighting at the table!" My mum scolded.

"Sorry Mrs. (l/n)." they both said. Even though they were technically older than my mum, she still had them on their toes. My mum maybe a sweetheart but I guess I inherited my fierceness from her. Screw with her and she blows up and attacks like a lioness.

"Anyways I can't tell you how proud we were of your performance last night (y/n)."

"You both saw the concert?"

"Of course. The Heaven rock and roll concert is open to everyone in heaven that has passed on. So long as you have a love for music and respect the artists that go up there, anyone is welcome to watch. And you were amazing up there love." My dad said.

"Taught her everything she knows, poor dear completely changed after I helped her gain some confidence to own the stage." Freddie said as he playfully ruffled my hair.

"Oh don't we know it, she was always such a shy girl." Mum said.

"Mum." I groaned out.

"In fact, wait right here." She stood up and went over to the bookshelf and pulled out a familiar red album book.

"Oh my god." I muttered.

"Now I have seen that you boys have been neglected in seeing your beloved Rock Angel in her childhood years."

"Mum, mum no!" I begged her. She then turned to Roger and said his name with a wide smile. "Mum, mum please don't!" It soon turned into an all breakout of me trying to take the album away before anyone could reach it, while my mum and the guys were all saying yes.

My mum and I were having a bit of tussle with her trying to give the album to Roger and me trying to stop it. But Roger soon intervened and grabbed the book and it was then I was screwed. I let out a groan and tapped out.

"Okay that's it, goodbye. I'm outta here."

"Oh no you don't, come back here dear." I was pulled back by Fred who kept me in his lap as the album was opened and the guys all either pulled pictures out from the album or passed the book along. My parents each explaining what either photo meant or how old I was in the picture.

Freddie had the picture of me petting a goat and riding a pony. He fawned over the pictures and flipped it over to see that those pictures were from my 5th birthday at petting zoo that was located on a farm about 20 miles away from our house.

"She always wanted to be a ballerina when she was 3 years old." My mum explained as Deacy soon turned a picture over to show me a picture of 3 year old me in a princess tiara and ballerina outfit and tutu. Giving me that pouty face of his almost as if saying 'look at you baby sister.'

"That girl never took that leotard and tutu off for a straight week. Even slept in it every night." I buried my face into my hands as I heard the boys laugh.

Oh god this was embarrassing!

This is why I never wanted the boys to see this album but I should've known that if my parents were in heaven, they'd have this album with them.

I don't know how long the torture was but I was relieved when it finally ended. Of course the boys kept fawning of just how adorable I was and why I kept the fact that I was such a cute child from them this long.

"Alright you all done now?" I asked impatiently as I finally stood up from Fred's lap.

"Oh come off it love, do you have any idea how long we have waited to see these pictures?" Brian stated.

"Too damn long. Now I've got eternal blackmailing against you sister dear." Deacy tormented as he came over to me and got me in a headlock and gave me a noogie.

"Mum! Deacy's trying to blackmail me!" I whined out.

"Tattletale." He grumbled.

"Now, now Deacy don't go blackmailing my daughter." My mum stated firmly as she and Brian began cleaning up the now finished breakfast plates and pans.

"Sorry Mrs. (L/n)." Deacy said. But Roger stood up and whispered something in Deacy's ear and I could see the mischief in both their eyes as they shook hands with each other.

God I only knew trouble was going to come from this, whatever it was that they had planned.

As the day went on, we were back at Garden Lodge studios merely relaxing under the warm sun out in the gardens. I was sitting with Brian and Freddie going over our next concert game plan for tonight's show.

Occasionally I was petting either Bucky or Freddie's two cats Oscar and Romeo who were lying right side by side with Bucky. While Roger and Deacy were playing frisbee with Sammy.

"Something troubling you darling?" asked Freddie. I turned toward him and Brian who were both looking at me concerned.

"I guess."

"You guess?" questioned Brian.

"This may sound silly but....how do you check in on the family and friends you've left behind?"

"You miss Jack and the kids, don't you?" Freddie said. I looked down solemnly.

"It was just so painful for them to see me as I was in my final years. I—just want to make sure they're all okay, especially Jack." They nodded and that's when Freddie said.

"There is a way. Come with me darling." He stood up and helped me onto my feet and we walked back to the house.

We were up in the basement studio and said as he stood in front of the window separating the booth and the lounge area with the controls.

"If at any time we need to see the ones we love, the way to them is through the thing we love. Touch the glass and it'll show your heart's desire." I looked at him like he was crazy but he just nodded telling me to do it. I placed my hand on the glass and said.

"I'd like to see my husband and children, please." Soon the glass shined a light and soon an image of Jack came up.

He was lying in what looked like a hospital bed and I saw our four kids surrounding him, looking like they were about to break down crying.

"Jack." I muttered sadly. "Is he....."

"I don't know darling. He may or he may not. We cannot determine that. All we can do is watch. It pains me because I had to live it so many times seeing you, the lads, David, Elton and my family pass on."

"But he promised me he'd watch out for them after I was gone."

"Guess he couldn't live without the love of his life." The image then disappeared leaving me feel empty and heartbroken. "Oh (y/n)." he softly cooed before I felt his arms wrap around me and I buried my face into his chest as I softly wept.

By around supper time we were back at my parent's place all getting ready to sit down and eat. I was sitting between my dad and Roger while in front of me was Deacy.

I was currently piddling around with my mashed potatoes suddenly not having an appetite after what I had just witnessed.

"Everything okay love?" I heard Roger say.

"Hmm." I hummed.

"Use your words baby girl, now c'mon what's going on?" asked my dad.

"I—I guess I'm not in the mood for potatoes."

"I've got a nice apple pie cooling in the kitchen." Suggested my mum.

"No thanks mum." I set my fork down and sighed solemnly as I leaned against my chair. Before any other questions could be asked we heard the doorbell ring. I felt Rog gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before standing up giving me a gentle peck on the top of my head and heading towards the door.

I felt my dad wrap his arm around me allowing me to lean against him.

"Hey (y/n)." I heard Roger say. I looked up at my dad and he told me to go on before kissing the top of my head just like Rog did and I walked from the kitchen over to the front hallway. "Someone's here to see you." He stepped aside and standing there was Jack.

He looked about the exact age when I first met him. The short sandy blonde hair, same outfit, and those same gentle greenish-blue eyes that made my knees grow week.

"Hey (y/n)." I walked right up to him and didn't say a word. "I—god I didn't expect to be here like this but.....look at you. It's like you hadn't aged a day. I—" I gave him a firm slap across the face. He looked at me in shock and I snapped.

"I thought you promised to take care of our kids! The grandkids!"

"I'm sorry but I....when I told you on the day we sailed to Capri for our honeymoon that I would die rather than live a lifetime without you, I literally meant it. I did try to be strong but the stress of the press of them bringing you up. Hounding our children and grandchildren just....." I cut him off by cupping his face and kissing him.

He was stunned for a moment but he relaxed as I felt his arms wrap around my waist and he deepened the kiss. I felt him pick me up and spin me around along the front porch before finally setting me down.

"I've missed you." I whispered.

"I've missed you. I've missed you soo much." I could just see the pain in his eyes. He wasn't just meaning after my death. Since he's had to suffer for 3 years due to my dementia making my mind deteriorate, making me forget him most days or who our kids were. He cupped the side of my face and captured my lips once more.

"So this is the young boy who stole my little girl's heart in the end?" we were forced to separate as not only my parents but the rest of Queen now stood by the front door entrance. Jack looked at my mum and dad wide eyed and said.

"Are—are those two....."

"Jack darling, there are two very special people you haven't met yet. I'd like you to meet my mother (m/n) and father (f/n). Mum, dad this is Jack." Mum was the first one to walk up to Jack with a warm smile.

"So this is the famous Jack Kline. Let me get a good look at you," she placed her hands on his shoulders forcing him to separate from me just a bit as she observed him. She nodded and said with a warm smile, "I'm glad I can finally say this to you in person (Y/n), you definitely picked yourself a handsome young man."

"Thanks mum."

"Thank you Mrs.—"

"Please Jack we're family. Call me mum." She said as she gently cupped the side of his face. He smiled and said.

"Okay.....mom." She hugged him and even though he was at first shocked, he gladly embraced my mum back.

After their embrace he came back towards me and he whispered in my ear, "You look so much like her."

"That's what the guys have been saying all day." I whispered back.

"So glad to see you here with us Jack darling." Freddie said.

"Freddie!" Jack said happily as the two of them hugged each other. Freddie kissed both of my husband's cheeks and said.

"You've done good Jack dear. I've been watching you along with that beautiful wife of yours. And thank you for naming your last baby after me."

"It was really (y/n)'s idea. I just agreed to it. It—felt right at the time."

"Well I appreciate it nonetheless." Jack then turned to Brian who smiled at my husband and the two of them embraced each other as Brian also ruffled my husband's hair.

"Good to see you again Jack."

"And you too Brian. It wasn't the same without you. I still never got the chance to beat you at Scrabble."

"And you never will." Brian bragged.

"It's true my dear, even I have yet to beat him once again, you bastard!" Freddie pipped in. When Jack finally turned towards Deacy, I thought he was going to just breakdown.

"Jack."

"Deacy, I—is it......"

"Who else did you expect, John Lennon?" Jack softly choked out a laugh before Deacy brought him into a hug. I couldn't help but awe at the sweet reunion.

I knew Jack had waited so long to be reunited with his brother, his mentor and dearest friend.

He blamed himself after Deacy's death thinking had he been there for him more, he could've somehow prevented him from dying, even when I assured him that there wasn't anything he nor I could do.

So this was his closure, and I was happy to see that he got it.

After they separated from each other, Deacy playfully ruffed Jack's hair much like Brian did in that typical 'big brother' kind of way.

"I'm sorry. If I—had I know I could've....."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault okay Jack. Listen to me, okay? None of it was your doing. You understand that?" he nodded and embraced Deacy once more.

"I missed you Deacy."

"And I missed you too, my little protegee." It was then the only person he had yet to meet face to face was my dad.

My dad approached him and eyed him up and down as well as circled around him a few times like a lion circling its prey before going for the kill.

"I have seen everything that's happened with my little girl." He told him straight forward.

"E-everything?" Jack choked out nervously.

"Oh yes, everything. But if I had to say out of any guy that tried to win my baby girl's hand. I'm glad it was you son." It seemed to ease Jack's nervousness that was until, "and I was thankful to have another set of eyes looking after my little girl the way I would see fit of the situation, don't you agree Roger?"

"Indeed (f/n)." Roger stated smugly as the two of them clasped hands with each other.

"Dad!" I whined out which made both my real and surrogate fathers chuckle. "But we don't need to worry about this one. He's a good chap."

"Alright enough with the interrogation. Now that we have an extra guest, let's adjust the table and get him some good quality food." I smiled and we all returned back inside for a good meal and some long catching up and family bonding.

Now I won't deny it but I refuse to state that Jack finally got his wish of seeing all of my baby pictures and of course the guys wanted another look at them along with Jack as both my parents told every embarrassing story they could remember from when I was 2 till before the crash.

About a month later the theme for this coming concert was a 'cover performance'. Each artist got the chance to do an entire set based off of their own cover versions of different artists songs. The boys and I got to do songs from Bowie, Elvis, and the Beatles and right now we were gonna take things down a notch.

Brian and I stood by the piano, me sitting on top of it and he sitting at the benches.

"Right first of all we'd like to thank you all once again for coming to see us, it's really been a blast. This next song was written by the wonderful, talented and legend Diana Ross. This song was written for an animated film that hit number 1 in Japan. This is 'If we hold on together'." Brian then began playing the piano and he looked right up at me as he began the song first.

PLAY VIDEO

I joined in on the second bridge staring right back at him before the two of us joined in together in a beautiful duet. His high range angelic voice and my mellow but soft alto voice blended like a beautiful concoction.

*Brian*

Don't lose your way With each passing day You've come so far Don't throw it away

Live believing Dreams are for weaving Wonders are waiting to start *Me*

Live your story Faith, hope and glory Hold to the truth in your heart

*Both*

If we hold on together I know our dreams will never die Dreams see us through to forever The clouds roll by For you and I

Bri and I touched forehead with each other smiling lovingly at each other. The spotlight shined once again but this time on Roger as he lead the next verse gently beating on the drums before being accompanied by Freddie's voice.

*Roger*

Souls in the wind Must learn how to bend Seek out a star Hold on to the end Valley, mountain There is a fountain Washes our tears all away Waves are swaying Somebody is praying Please let us come home to stay

*Roger and Freddie*

If we hold on together I know our dreams will never die Dreams see us through to forever As clouds roll by For you and I

Freddie soon took over for a brief solo, his powerful voice moving the crowd before Rog and Bri joined in. Showing off the three voices that helped make most of the Queen songs as powerful as they were.

*Freddie*

When we are out there in the dark We'll dream about the sun *Freddie, Brian and Roger*

In the dark we'll feel the light Warm our hearts, everyone

Much like Deacy always did whenever they performed Liar, he came right up beside me up close to my mic and the two of us sung together the brief duet before the other three members joined in. And I couldn't help but wrap my arm around my big brother as the two of us sang, and I even felt his arm go around my waist as out heads touched each other's lovingly.

But as we reached the final part of the song, Freddie and Roger joined Brian, Deacy and I at the piano. The five of us coming back together as a family as our voices sung in perfect harmony.

*Me and Deacy*

If we hold on together I know our dreams will never die *All*

Dreams see us through to forever As high as souls can fly The clouds roll by For you and I

We all looked at each other before finally embracing each other in a loving group hug. I patted Roger and Deacy's backs rubbing them as the crowd roared with applause and if anyone had no heart, I'm betting everyone was probably crying, just like we all were at this very moment.

"I love you guys." I said to them into my microphone.

(A/N GO TO 1:37)

The five of us were gathered at the top of a cliffside hill right by the old oak tree with a swing set that once was near my childhood home back on Earth. We all were sat along the edge of small cliff just looking out toward the sky, speaking not a word just enjoying the company of just being together.

As the sun began to rise, the guys all looked down at me and I looked up at them. All four of them just smiling lovingly down at me. Brian pulled me up onto his lap resting his chin on my head, giving it a kiss, Roger rested his head against my left shoulder wrapped his arm around me as he nuzzled against my head kissing my cheek or temple every now and then, I soon felt two different pressures on my lap.

I looked down to see Freddie and Deacy laying head to head of each other on my lap. I stroked through their hairs and down their faces and I felt each of them kiss either my palm or the back of my hand. While they each lifted up a hand to caress my face or wipe away a hidden happy tear that wanted to escape.

This is how I wanted every post-concert performance, every day, every eternity to be like. Here with the four boys that weren't just rockstars to me, but family.

If there was anything I had to say about all of this; if you had told me to describe my life in three simple words, I would always tell you this.

Best. Internship. Ever.

70 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 3 -

- Ao3 link -

“Truly, Lao Nie, you are blessed to have such a talented son,” Wen Ruohan said, and if it were anyone else it might have even been a compliment, sincerely meant.

But Wen Ruohan was an ancient monster, two generations older than Lan Qiren – though you couldn’t tell by looking at his smooth young-seeming face, and only his eyes told the truth of it – and possessed of both a longstanding grudge against the Nie sect and the apparent sense that all good things in the world ought to belong to him and him alone.

He had only two living sons at present, the younger one only a little older than A-Zhan, now called Lan Wangji, and neither of them had yet displayed any particularly fine qualities – understandable for little Wen Chao, who was little more than a spoiled princeling, but the tone in Wen Ruohan’s voice boded no one any good.

“It is, no doubt, a credit to Sect Leader Lan’s excellent teaching,” Wen Ruohan added before Lao Nie could respond, and he raised his cup to toast Lan Qiren. Etiquette required that Lan Qiren acknowledge the toast, which he did with a stiff nod, but he disliked this line of conversation more and more.

“Starting to regret not sending your own boy there, are you, Hanhan?” Lao Nie laughed, and Lan Qiren devoutly wished that his friend would leave him out of whatever strange ongoing thing he had developed with Wen Ruohan, half rivalry and half challenge, hatred and affection both. Who in their right mind would call the fearsome Sect Leader Wen such intimate things like “A-Han” or “Hanhan”?

Lao Nie, that was who.

Wen Ruohan bared his teeth at Lao Nie in something that might be mistaken for a smile. Lan Qiren averted his eyes from the whole debacle, thinking to himself that he would need to advise Lao Nie that he could either invite their fellow sect leader into his bed or have Lan Qiren as a friend but not both. Lan Qiren’s entire life had been thrown into chaos by other people’s choices in that regard and he was not inclined to endure any more of the same if he could help it.

The jade pendant he had taken to wearing on his belt for easy access was warm against his leg, as it often was when he was thinking ungracious thoughts – he’d had something of a breakthrough with Jiwei shortly his affirmation of friendship with Lao Nie, achieving perfect resonance between blade and pendant, and he was very pleased even if he didn’t actually have any evidence that it was helping. He’d tuned a similar pendant with Baxia for Nie Mingjue, who wore it around his neck to help seep off Baxia’s rage, and though there were no dramatic effects, Lan Qiren thought that he seemed steadier for it. Though that might also just be how Nie Mingjue was starting to grow into himself, both in terms of becoming a teenager (Lan Qiren’s best estimate was around thirteen) and in terms of his ever-increasing height.

Children at that age were especially tricky to convince to listen, so Lan Qiren had allowed Lan Xichen to select the pendant and act as messenger to hand over the gift, thinking to himself that their mutual friendship would do more to convince Nie Mingjue to wear the thing than any esoteric explanation relating to cultivation. He had been proven right, and the fact that Lan Xichen smiled brightly every time he saw his friend wearing it was an unexpected but welcome bonus.

Sadly, Lao Nie was not so easily convinced, but again then he was an adult, with his habits set in stone, harder to change. His style had always been simple and stringently austere; he hated having any sort of weight on him but for his saber, his guan and his braids, and not even the threat of his pending eventual death would change his mind about that. As a result it was Lan Qiren who wore the pendant for him, meditating with or playing for Jiwei whenever he could and doing all he could to strengthen the resonance between the two items even at a distance.

It was Lan Qiren that wore the jade, even though it hung heavy and swollen with Lao Nie’s spiritual energy, and Wen Ruohan that glared each time he saw it, and really, if Lao Nie could just stop whatever dangerous game he was playing, Wen Ruohan could go back to disregarding Lan Qiren as the mediocre replacement for the far more dangerous Qingheng-jun.

Instead of…well, whatever wrong idea Wen Ruohan had gotten into his head about him.

About them, perhaps.

Some people thought everything was about sex, he thought disdainfully, and then had to suppress a flinch at the abrupt stab of pain – He Kexin had died earlier that year, fading away suddenly and unexpectedly, and for all that Lan Qiren had not liked her it was still a shock to think that she was gone.

He had been the one to find her, which he supposed was lucky in comparison to the alternative. It had been during one of his visits, coming as he always did to report to her at the midpoint between her children’s monthly visits, and even now, months later, he found himself starting to walk towards her house on those evenings, found himself mentally making a note of things his nephews did as if he were still preparing the reports that he would have given to her if she had still been there.

His brother had never cared for such reports.

His brother…

Lan Qiren had had to tell him that the wife he had sacrificed everything for was gone, talking through the door in the hope that he would be listened to and heard, and perhaps the only benefit of his brother’s cold and endless seclusion was that he didn’t have to hear his brother’s response to such news.

(Sometimes he wondered if his brother was already dead and rotting away in there, only to scold himself for such inauspicious thoughts. In the end, despite everything, it was still his brother, and surely they had been close, once, the way Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were, even if Lan Qiren could not remember it.)

He had hoped that Cangse Sanren would somehow hear the news and come to find him, to commiserate – even more than Lao Nie, she could put a smile on anyone’s face – but she did not come to the Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren hoped it was only that she was busy, or else perhaps had not had reason to hear such gossip as a traveling rogue cultivator, but he feared the worst. The last time they had met she had reminded him, as she did every time, that she had a doom hanging above her head which could not be escaped, and as always they made sure to part on good terms as if that time would be the last. And yet, despite that, he still hoped desperately that he had not lost her, too.

“– such a talented niece,” Jin Guangshan was saying ingratiatingly to Wen Ruohan, who looked pleased – they must be discussing Wen Qing, who was around Nie Mingjue’s age, perhaps a little older, and who already showed all signs of being an extremely talented doctor. She was not Wen Ruohan’s direct niece, being a child of the Dafan Wen branch family, distant cousins at best, but Wen Ruohan had claimed her as his ward and therefore, technically, her skills were his merit, no matter that she had developed them before her abrupt relocation to the Nightless City to accompany the main family line. “Perhaps you might consider sending her to Sect Leader Lan’s lectures next summer, instead.”

“There are separate lectures for women,” Lan Qiren demurred, going for the easy excuse of his sect’s customs. “I believe she has a younger brother? You are welcome to send him once he is old enough, if you like.”

Wen Qing was not at all to Lan Qiren’s taste, as much as he was loath to say such a thing about a girl little older than a child. She had inherited the arrogance of the Wen sect in full: proud and unwavering, convinced of her own viewpoint regardless of any evidence to the contrary, and unwilling to compromise or listen, determined to have her own way. While in her case the traits shaded closer to virtue, such as with her absolutist refusal to use her sword to engage in any of Wen Ruohan’s skirmishes with small neighboring sects, Lan Qiren could see a future in which that very same arrogance would bring her nothing but problems.

If there was one thing that he’d learned from Jiwei, it was that it was not good to be too rigid, too set in your path, or else you would ignore any other solution in favor of walking step-by-step down the path you’d created to your own destruction. It was something he himself was constantly trying to correct in himself, with his love of the rules and very particular habits, and perhaps that was why he could recognize it in others.

Still, she was young, and there was time yet for her to learn better. Maybe he should recommend her for some classes…

“I will consider it,” Wen Ruohan said with a not-smile on his lips. “Perhaps there’s something that the boy can learn from Sect Leader Lan’s…wealth of experience.”

Lan Qiren did not flinch at the jibe, clearly aimed to remind him that he had never left the Lan sect to gain experience the way so many young men did – Wen Ruohan had discovered that particular sore spot years ago, and however skilled he was at picking at old wounds, they would eventually toughen into a scar – but he was somewhat gratified to see Lao Nie’s frown deepen when he heard it.

Still, since Lan Qiren didn’t actually want to get in the middle of the other sect leaders’ personal business, he interjected, “There is still time before we need to think of such things. The children will be grown sooner than we like; we should cherish the time when they’re still young.”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes at the platitude, but the conversation moved on to other matters. There was always business to discuss at these discussion conferences, even in the parts that were nominally meant as social events, and of course some of the social discussions were also in their own way business. The birth of a son for Tingshan He clan, yet another daughter for the prodigious Yingchuan Wang clan with all their concubines…

The pendant on Lan Qiren’s thigh burned hotter than ever, and he slid a hand out of his sleeve to press down on it, wondering at the cause. He glanced over at Lao Nie, at Jiwei, and found him scowling in a way that seemed more intense than the usual, his eyes on Wen Ruohan – had he truly just noticed the other man’s disdain of Lan Qiren? Surely not.

Perhaps he was simply responding to Jiwei’s own response, but why the saber would be upset at Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren truly did not know. There was only so much he could understand without the lived experience of cultivating saber spirit himself, which for all his effort he did not and could not have.

Lan Qiren sent his own spiritual energy to the pendant, trying to press the feeling of calm there in the hopes that the resonance would also help calm Jiwei, and thus in turn Lao Nie, but he had no idea if it was having that effect. Perhaps he would try to play for Lao Nie himself as well as for Jiwei tonight.

Assuming of course that Lao Nie was not otherwise preoccupied…

A loud noise came from the arena below – a giant wave of cheering – and Lan Qiren turned his attention there: it appeared that, as Wen Ruohan must have foreseen, Nie Mingjue had just defeated someone one and a half times his own age in a clean sweep. He was practically glowing with joy and youthful enthusiasm and, yes, sheer overwhelming spiritual energy - had he managed to advance his own cultivation during a performance spar?

Of course he had. Geniuses.

And of course, just as predictably, Lan Xichen was the first one by his side when he left the field, the two of them talking avidly and enthusiastically – perhaps a little too much so for Lan Xichen, just edging outside of the Lan sect rules, but Lan Qiren could forgive the small misstep under the circumstances. Normally he tried to be as strict as possible when teaching his nephews, erring wherever possible in favor of orthodoxy out of his fear that they would end up indifferent to their sect or blinded by passion the way their father was or too mercurial and easily deceived the way He Kexin had been. Still, Lan Xichen had only just become old enough to attend the events and it was only another year before he could participate, albeit only in the most junior capacity; some enthusiasm was understandable.

Truly, he thought as he watched them, it had not been a mere platitude to say that a child’s youth needed to be cherished before it disappeared forever, and all the more so when it was your child. With their mother’s death, his nephews were now wholly in his custody and care, and he thought that he could not have loved them any more if they had been children of his own body.

Unexpectedly, he felt someone’s gaze on him and turned his head to catch Wen Ruohan studying him thoughtfully. When their gazes met, Wen Ruohan did not look away, but only smiled and raised his cup – the second time now he had tried to catch Lan Qiren in a toast. He would probably try to force them all into drinking later. Lan Qiren would refuse, as always, and take his leave early so that he could sleep, and Lao Nie would stay and probably get himself into trouble.

Perhaps Wen Ruohan had some sort of scheme to force the issue. That had happened a few times, although the move was more typical of Jin Guangshan, who liked to set important business meetings in the evening and then insist that they might as well have the conversation at a ‘tea house’ or ‘wine shop’ that barely bothered hiding the fact that it was brothel. On a few instances, he had steered the conversation in such a way that left Lan Qiren no choice but to either drink, lose face, or give Jin Guangshan no face, and of those three options the most palatable was clearly the first. Lan Qiren would therefore drink and, true to his bloodline, almost immediately become extremely dizzy and confused, losing all his senses.

Presumably that had been Jin Guangshan’s goal the first time around, except unfortunately for him Lan Qiren, when drunk, did not become easier to manipulate. Instead, it appeared that he simply lost all control of his ability to moderate his interest in the Lan sect rules or obscure musical theory and would therefore proceed to talk about those subjects at monotonous and excruciating length to anyone who would listen, and several who would really rather not. Lao Nie had told him about it after one such incident, claiming that he had nearly burst a rib laughing at Wen Ruohan’s worsening expression as Lan Qiren earnestly hung off his arm all evening, refusing to be shaken off, and dictating to him the entire history, development, and applicable exceptions of just one of the rules regarding the use of the Lan sect forehead ribbon.

With quotes.

(In his embarrassment, Lan Qiren had responded by muttering something about the importance of citing appropriate authority, causing Lao Nie to nearly burst another rib.)

He wasn’t sure why Wen Ruohan would bother inviting that sort of behavior again, especially when he had already requested in advance that should such circumstances ever occur again, Lao Nie was to have pity on him and drag him back to his bed before he went on too long. And yet – reviewing the day’s proposed schedule in his mind – it seemed likely that Wen Ruohan did have such intentions.

For some reason, it made Lan Qiren worry.

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

129 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Together (USWNT x Reader)

Request: team x reader where r gets hurt (needs crutches) during practice and the team is of course really worried for her and r stops eating and is upset and takes it out on the team the rest of camp (because she doesn’t think she can make it back in time for Tokyo) but it gets resolved after reader is crying and team is there to comfort her? (maybe some christen x reader) could you also do at the end where the reader either gets named to the roster/ the first game since injury?

You stared unseeingly at the hotel room ceiling, the doctor's words rolling endlessly through your mind. It was an accident, you knew that and you still loved Ali, but the situation fucking sucked. It wicked that her tackle had been late. It sucked that your ankle had gone in the opposite direction of your body. It really sucked that you had needed surgery to fix the compound fracture that had resulted in the collision. And it Really Really fucking sucked that you would “be lucky to walk without a limp for the rest of your life, much less run around on a field,”.

You were only 22, and the doctor had basically but a death sentence on your career. The only reason you hadn’t been sent home was that your team moms Kelley and Alex hadn’t made the argument that there was no one there to take care of you. It would have been easier if they had let you leave. Then at least you would have more time to figure out how to tell them that you were never going to play soccer again.

A knock sounded from the hotel room door, and you glanced at it for a few seconds, before retiring your attention to counting the texture in the ceiling, contemplating what the fuck you were supposed to do with the rest of your life.

The knocking stopped for a second, before starting up louder. Maybe if you didn’t respond, they would think you were asleep and leave you alone. You didn’t want visitors right now anyway. No one else deserved to have the rest of their camp ruined with your sour mood. You needed to make them hate you so it wouldn’t hurt as much when you left. When they stopped talking to you because you weren’t useful anymore. When you lost the only family you had ever had.

But the telltale click of the door lock told you that the women would not be so easily deterred. You didn’t bother to look at the women as they slid into bed beside you, Kelley on your left and Alex on your right.

“What ya looking at kiddo?” Kelley asked, nudging your shoulder softly.

“Just thinking,” You shrugged, your eyes never leaving the ceiling, even as Alex drew circles on your cheeks with her fingers, sharing worried looks with Kelley. Their little ray of sun was even more cloudy than it had been when they left earlier. One of them should have stayed with you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alex asked, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to coax you to finally look at her.

You bite your lip, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to get the words past the lump in your throat.

“I can’t play,”

You could practically feel Alex’s eye roll at the statement. And you frowned. She didn’t understand that this wasn’t just a temporary thing.

“Don’t worry about that right now sweetie. Just worry about getting better,” She murmured, using a careful finger to tilt your head so you were making eye contact with her. You stared into her concerned blue eyes, praying that she couldn’t see just how much pain you were in. She didn’t need that burden.

“Yeah ducky, just work on getting better and you’ll be tearing up the field with us again in no time,” Kelley added, propping her head on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, nodding slightly.

Normally they would have attacked you with tickles to get you to smile, but this time they didn’t. They simply sat up and offered you their hands. Even they had given up on you already, what was going to happen when they found out that you were useless to them now.

“Now, dinners ready and you already skipped lunch today,” Alex said softly as you stared at their hands in discontent.

“Wasn’t hungry,” You grumbled. The truth was that you didn’t want to confront your new reality. You wanted to stay in your little bubble and pretend that everything was going to work out fine.

“Sure you weren’t,” Kelley laughed, growing tired of your resistance to them, and grabbing your shoulder to force you into a sitting position.

“What we mean is that you’re not getting out of it,” Alex shot Kelley a disapproving look, but helped Kelley hoist you up. Her forehead wrinkled when you didn’t laugh at their antics, and instead just crossed your arms.

“I hate you guys,” You huffed, pouting.

“No you don’t, now, up you get,” Kelley laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I can do it myself,” You hissed once you were sitting upright. You grabbed your crutches and forced yourself to your feet. The crutches rubbed uncomfortably against your ribs, but you ignored it. You didn’t need any more help. You didn’t need to give them any more reason to leave you.

“Stubborn as always,” Kelley sighed, opening the door for you, and you held in your groan. They probably wouldn’t even miss you.

The ride to the dining room was spent in uncomfortable silence. Neither woman quite sure how to broach the subject of your foul mood.

“Hey gimpy, need help with your plate,” Ashlyn smiled, clapping you on the shoulder and nearly knocking you over. Kelley glared at her, reaching out a hand to steady you.

“I got it,” You grumbled, shrugging off their steadying hands and beginning to maneuver yourself towards the food table. You didn’t want to eat (what was the point) but if you didn’t, they would make an even bigger deal than they already were.

They watched you struggle for a moment, trying to balance a plate and hobble along the food table. Ali sighed, standing and making her way over to you.

“I’ll help you, this is my fault after all,” she said softly, grabbing the plate before you dumped its contents onto the floor by accident.

“I said I got it,” You huffed, looking away from the woman, frowning as Christen joined you. God, you weren’t a child. You could get a plate of food by yourself. Ignoring the good intentions of your crush, you ground your teeth toge

“Is this all you’re going to eat? You need to keep your strength up kid,” Kelley scoffed at your choice of three dinosaur nuggets.

“Like it matters now? I can’t play so what’s the point,” You grumbled, ripping the plate out of Ali’s hand and struggling to the closest seat. Christen sat down heavily beside you, followed by Ali, Ash, Kelley and Alex.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” Ali whispered. It killed her to see you so distraught. To know that she was the reason you were so upset.

You glanced up from your nuggets, making eye contact with the woman. You took note of the pained crinkles by her eyes. She didn’t have a right to be in pain. You were the one who just had their future destroyed.

“I know,” You shrugged halfheartedly, playing with your nuggets rather than eating them.

“You sound super convincing,” Ashlyn rolled her eyes.

“Well, what would you like me to say?” You snipped back, quirking your eyebrow up at her.

“We’re not your enemy babe,” Christen soothed, rubbing you back.

“I know I’m just-.” You huffed, shaking your head frustratedly. What were you? You were angry, sad, a complete and total washout now. What was the point? You paused, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. To do what needed to be done. It would hurt less in the end. “I’m tired and not hungry and I just wanna go to bed,” You finished, staring down at your untouched nuggets. Your hands fidgeted in your lap for a second before you reached for your crutches.

Your fingertips brushed the dreaded walking device at the wrong angle, sending it crashing to the ground. Just like your dreams. You shoved your plate away, leaning as far as you could in your chair to retrieve the crutch, only for the other one to join it on the floor. You glared at the items, oblivious to the worried mother hens watching you fall apart over being unable to get them on your own.

It was Christen who took potty on you, lifting the crutches off the floor and presenting them to you. “Let me help you,” she smiled sadly, and you grit your teeth. Your cheeks flamed red as you grabbed the items.

“Aw kid, don’t feel bad, we all need a little help sometimes,” Ashlyn smiled kindly. The rage and embarrassment boiled inside you. They didn’t fucking get it.

“Im not a fucking invalid. I don’t need your fucking help. I don’t need these or anything else,” You growled, throwing your crutch across the room and into the food fable with a crash, the other on suffering the same fate as you forced yourself to stand. Pain shot down your leg, but you ignored it, determined to prove to them all that you could do it yourself.

The room sat in stunned silence. They knew you were upset, but you had never ever lashed out like this before.

Christen was the first person to jump into action. She held her hands out as she approached you, as if you were a wounded puppy she needed to show she meant no harm.

“Babe, don’t, you’ll just make it worse and if you ever wanna come back..-“ she tried softly, wrapping her arm under your armpit in an attempt to prevent you from putting weight on your injured foot. You shrugged her off, taking a bold (and excruciatingly painful step forward). What was the point. You would never see the pitch again anyway.

“You just don’t fucking get it so you? I’ll never ever get to come back. That sloppy tackle made it so I’ll be lucky to walk normally again, much less kick a fucking ball,” You spat, tears finally making their way down your face.

You could feel the weight of the teams putting gaze. The heaviness that filled the room, like a wave of realization crashing over them. You kept your eyes on the floor, you hand clenching and unclenching around nothing, eating for them to disown you. For the next logical step to happen.

“Y/n,” Ali started, tears evident in her voice, but your venomous scowl stopped her. “I’m fucking useless now, so just fucking drop it, alright?!”

You attempted to take another step, using the chair as support, and forcing yourself forward. You nearly collapsed as your full weight landed on your very injured foot. You were stubborn, and you were determined to give them a reason for you to stay. You wobbled, nearly keeling over from the pain, gritting your teeth to stop the anguished cry from threatening to spill out.

You pulled yourself back upright, about to take another step away from the chair supporting you, but soft calming hands on your shoulders stopped you. “Y/n Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself, more, and then we’ll have even bigger odds to beat,” Christen murmured into your ear, hugging you back into her chest and supporting your weight as she sat back into a chair and pulled you into her lap.

“Yeah kid, fuck what the doctors say. You’re amazing and so stubborn that I dare them to try and keep you down,” Kelley added, coming to kneel in front of you, her hand in your knee.

“Plus you’ve got all of us behind you, no matter what,” Alex said, coming up behind her. A sob ripped from your throat. That was your greatest fear. That they would leave you. Your family only tolerated you when they wanted something when you were successful, so you thought your soccer family would feel the same.

“You promise?” You asked softly.

“Absolutely kid,” Alex and Kelley said together firmly. You nodded and allowed the women to hold you as you cried. You would all get through this. Together.

*****

You bounced lightly on your feet, cracking your neck as you waited for the match to start. There had been a tremendous amount of time and effort put into this moment. Hours upon hours of rehab, soccer training and therapy, but here you were in the starting 11 for the Olympic finals.

“You ready baby?” Christen hummed, her arms wrapping around you, kissing your cheek before resting her chin on your shoulder.

You smiled, grabbing her hand. The woman had been instrumental in your recovery, and though it had taken you an embarrassingly, long time to ask her out, you had sacked up. You loved the woman so much that it scared you, and now she was your girlfriend (bum leg or not). “Always baby,”

You had come a long way, and you had so much further to go. You would win like you always did. Together.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #christen press imagine #christen press x reader

333 notes · View notes

goldenkamuyhunting · 4 years ago

Text

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 276 “Fried shrimp”

New chapter before the break in which we get to meet…

…yeah, Hanazawa’s sacrificial sheep, Yuusaku. The poor guy seems to believe he shares his father’s beliefs on how he (Yuusaku, sadly not Hanazawa) has to die for the well being of the country… as if he were the antichrist or something like that.

So we’ve left Sugimoto showing, in his hurry to eat the fried shrimp, that he has not the slightest idea how to use western cutlery, realizing he has messed up and thinking, in panic, he’ll have to signal to Kikuta already about his failure.

I mean, Sugimoto, if you’ve no idea what to do just let Kaeko start eating first and then copy what she does.

Anyway, luckily for him, Kaeko thinks she’s making a joke and Sugimoto takes advantage of it, saying he did it to lighten the tension.

She then observes he’s still wearing his cap, asking him if that too is due to him being tense. Sugimoto removes it, then claims at the academy they eat in Japanese style so he’s not used to this.

Kaeko notices there’s a difference between him and the photo but she’s pleased by his look anyway and continues not to suspect anything.

Anyway Kaeko gives him tips on how to eat the food, which, as usual, pleases Sugimoto greatly. He asks her if she comes there often and it turns out she does, as well as visiting other expensive places. Sugimoto thinks at how he, instead, after his father died, was in such a poor situation he resorted to steal the food that was given to cats.

We get a one page image with Sugimoto, in his dark uniform seated in this white and luxurious place, as if he were a dark spot clearly out of place in all that white luxury, his gaze downcast as he looks at the food in front of himself and is forced to take conscience of the huge divide between his world and Kaeko’s.

Later he’s with Kikuta again and claims since he kept silent, he should have felt like a boring guy, which should have displeased Kaeko. Kikuta is predictably happy and tells him since marriage interviews involve more than one meeting he’ll be counting on Sugimoto again.

Sadly for him, Sugimoto is seriously mistaken in regard to Kaeko’s reaction to his behaviour.

In fact Kaeko is delighted with ‘Yuusaku’, thinking he was just a quiet man, who kept on nodding at whatever she said without disagreeing with her and who had an awesome look.

In a way this is interesting because it’s clear Sugimoto thinks to impress a girl he should be vivacious and talkative, strong and assuring, when this isn’t necessarily what girls search in men.

Toraji never beat Sugimoto and was even prone to cry and yet Umeko loved him because he would do everything for her.

Tanigaki is quiet and grumpy as a bear yet Inkarmat ended up liking him because he was actually gentle with her.

Shinpei is a coward, yet Chiyoko wants him because, again, he is willing to leave his life for her.

Girls aren’t all made with the same mould, Sugi, they are different one from the other. Not everyone likes the loud type and it’s kind of relevant how, ultimately, the girl in GK ultimately chose men who just cared for them.

Kaeko assumed Yuusaku did her the kindness to let her speak without him disagreeing, that he tried to make her relax with a joke, in short that he was kind with her, though clearly Sugimoto’s look also played a part in this.

Anyway Kaeko’s maid warns her about how she cares too much for the look of men, which is why she lost many chances to get married so yes, Sugimoto’s good looks played a huge part in why Kaeko liked him.

Back to Sugimoto he complains he can’t believe how someone would marry someone else only after meeting them a few times. Kikuta explains him that’s how it works among the upper classes and Sugimoto ends up on talking with him about Toraji and Umeko… and this is relevant because instead he kept for a really long time the matter for himself when with Asirpa and Shiraishi and was reluctant to talk about it.

Sugimoto concludes his tale pointing out how Toraji told him he was still Umeko’s number one yet she married Toraji so he wonders if this sort of things happen as well.

Kikuta gets angry, asking him if he’s wondering if Umeko is happy after marrying Toraji and what does he understand about women.

Kikuta views his words as arrogance, as Sugimoto thinking he’ll always stay number one in her heart, she always pining after him and never being happy with Toraji… and yes, this is what in a way Sugimoto hopes, because he’s unhappy without her and thinks it’s not fair how Toraji took her from him and a side of him probably would like to hope she’ll jump Toraji for him in the future.

Kikuta points out how this is rude toward Umeko and Toraji, how women are capable to move on from a failed love story and start another, without remaining dependant on the man they had lost and how Sugimoto should apologize to them both.

Sugimoto doesn’t get why Kikuta got so mad and wonders if he’s just being pathetic because he can’t let go of things. Kikuta’s mood changes radically and he assures him it’s absolutely normal for men to be pitiful creatures who can’t let go of the woman they love.

I wonder if part of Kikuta’s reaction is due to him living an experience similar to Sugimoto. Did he too pined for a woman who ultimately chose another? Or was he the replacement for such a man?

Anyway Kikuta tells him that, as a man, he should understand Toraji and leave the whole thing behind himself, firmly and completely. So hum, yes, I tend to think Kikuta lived through something similar as Sugimoto.

Anyway Kikuta’s support brightens Sugimoto up, who smiles and agrees to do so.

I think Sugimoto is starting to see Kikuta as some sort of father figure, who feeds him and scolds him and accept him. He’s a replacement family in a way.

I wonder if it’s due to his discussion with Kikuta that Sugimoto became reserved on the topic, for fear to look pathetic… or it’s just due to Toraji’s death. He feels guilty because deep inside himself he had hoped for Toraji to get out of the picture and when it happened in such way, it broke him.

Anyway Kaeko’s maid is giving her tips on how to seduce ‘Yuusaku’, get him into the right mood and then wrap her legs around him. Kaeko is determined to get ‘Yuusaku’ and her maid is very encouraging about this.

Kaeko comments that since men who chose brides from her school do so for her pedigree and looks, there’s no problems if she does the same. ‘Yuusaku’ is good looking and of a high social ranking so he’s perfect for her.

As she thinks so she realizes her cousin might chide her for focusing too much on appearance but he also picked up a country girl with curly unruly hair merely due to her look and now he seems to be really happy… and so now we know what had happened to Igogusa/Harumi Chiyo.

She really left her hometown because she married the son of a manager from Mitsubishi, which is to say Kaeko’s cousin. Well, in a way it’s a relief. I’m glad to know she’s alive and I hope she’s also happy.

In short Tsurumi was honest the first time, when he said how a man from Mitsubishi wanted her as a wife for his son, and Tsurumi only tricked Tsukishima with the story Tsukishima was told in Mudken, in which he made Tsukishima first believe she was killed by his father, then that Tsurumi merely made things look like that, so he could make Tsukishima feel indebted to him even more.

Also this means Tsukishima really killed his father over nothing, as the man might have many faults but didn’t cause Chiyo to die.

Kikuta and Sugimoto are out eating in a poor restaurant, Sugimoto thinking at the fried shrimps and feeling angry and jealous at how upper class people can eat them. Kikuta reminds him that’s how it works in Tokyo.

Sugimoto then wonders if Yuusaku wants to be a flag bearer. Kikuta says his job is only to protect Yuusaku’s virginity and have the lady rejected as gently as possible. Sugimoto insists Yuusaku might want to eat fried shrimp instead than joining the army. I mean Sugi, in the past chapter you considered joining the army so as to get food… I get your situation is desperate because you were literally starving but food serves little when you’re sent out to fight and die in a war… and you realize this only when you think Yuusaku, instead than dying in a war, might want to eat fried shrimp?

Kikuta insists Sugimoto shouldn’t worry about Yuusaku… but those are wasted words.

Sugimoto dresses up in Kikuta’s uniform and goes to meet Yuusaku, telling him he’d heard his father wants him to become the regimental flag bearer. Yuusaku is confused but points out this will be only if he gets chosen for the position…

...which makes him pretty naïve because of course his father can hugely influence the choice if he’s already set on having him in that role.

Have I mentioned in this ramblings how Hanazawa senior is a jerk? No, I think I haven’t yet so here it is, Hanazawa senior is a jerk.

Sugimoto asks him why his father would want such a role for him, wondering if it’s maybe Hanazawa thinks there won’t be a war.

Yuusaku ‘reassures’ him it’s quite the opposite, his father believes there will be a war soon and what a better chance than to make use of his son for his honour by putting him in the riskiest position with the highest death rate? Because what’s a son if not cannon fodder meant to be used for his father’s honour?

Hanazawa is a disgusting person.

Sugimoto asks Yuusaku if he wants to be a flag bearer and Yuusaku… circles around the subject, saying if he’s chosen he’ll feel pride. Yeah, because who doesn’t want to die as a sacrificial lamb for his father’s social standing?

Sugimoto asks him if he’s merely trying to met his father’s expectations.

Yuusaku sweats and denies it, asking him what does he wants.

Sugimoto says he just wants to know how he feels.

Yuusaku explains Hanazawa (at this point, as Alessandro Manzoni would have said “I have not the hear to call that guy ‘his father’”) told him about how his life can be used for the good of Japan so Yuusaku believes using his life for the good of Japan is the right thing to do.

Dear God, this man really viewed his sons as pawns to use and dispose when they weren’t useful anymore. Is he ever human? Or there’s only duty and honour running in his veins?

Sugimoto, who has no idea Yuusaku is the kind who’s stubborn as hell and would have refused anyway, thinks Yuusaku’s problem is merely he thinks he only have one path open, but wouldn’t think so if he were to know there’s another path, one they’re hiding from him.

No Sugimoto, the problem is actually Hanazawa completely brainwashed his son, to turn him into a noble and righteous icon without even knowing well why except that daddy thinks that’s the best way for him to live his life.

Hanazawa is a jerk.

On a sidenote I hate this situation even more exactly because Yuusaku is basically brainwashed. Each time he has to explains his position he uses as argument what his father told him, yes, he says he came to believe it too, but it doesn’t seem like it’s something he came up on his own, or something he gave deep thought about, but something that was merely put into his mind by all of Hanazawa’s talk.

Maybe it’s just me but Yuusaku always feel more like not thinking for himself but merely reporting what his father told him to think. Whatever, let’s go on.

Meanwhile Yuusaku proves he can be observant, as he notices Sugimoto is wearing Kikuta’s cap due to it being stitched in a little area due to a hole made when Kikuta has been nearly killed by an officer candidate during shooting training. Sugimoto tries to cover up the thing by claiming he got the hat from Kikuta, but this is even more suspicious as that cap belonged to Kikuta’s little brother who died of illness during the war with China.

This is probably why Kikuta is adopting young men… but at the same time, although he should know Yuusaku since Yuusaku knows him so well, he has little to no sympathy for his fate and will show complete disinterest for Koito as well. I do wonder if Kikuta has issues with people from the upper classes.

He trains officer candidates but this might have exposed him even more to the differences between classes and made him think low of them. We’ll see.

On another side I wonder if Yuusaku will do something out of this information there’s someone wearing Kikuta’s cap and who’s asking him if he’s okay with being the flag bearer.

This little exchange proved Yuusaku can be observant and connect the dots so now if only he were to think a little more he could prove himself to be more than just his father’s puppet.

Anyway as Sugimoto walks for the city, holding his cap in his hands he gets careless and slams against someone… this someone turns out to be the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse…

...pardon, I mean Tsukishima, who’s with Usami, Ogata and Tsurumi (please notice how the light shines on them as if they were some sort of saviours or angels from above), the four of them all enjoying a trip to Tokyo prior to the start of the apocalypse… Tsurumi’s plan, I mean… because really, it would feel to absurd to have those 4 in Tokyo just for a touristic trip, so they had to be there to pursue Tsurumi’s plan.

Okay, I know, maybe the apocalypse was safer than what Tsurumi’s plan will turn out.

Anyway, some random observations on them.

From the 27 on Ogata and Usami’s shoulders we can see they’re already in the 7th division.

From the stripe on Ogata’s sleeve we can see he’s a second class superior private, meaning he has just enrolled in the army since, second class privates should have been automatically promoted to first class after 6 months (at least from the info I have who’re dated past GK so it might be things were different that early on). It’s 1901 so he should be 19. It means he enrolled in the army earlier as although one could join the army from when he was 17, the norm was they would be examined for fitness at 20 and, if judged fit then they would join the army for a 2 years period of training.

Considering Noda said Ogata studied Russian with Tsukishima and Tsukishima went in Russia with Tsurumi much earlier on, it seems that Tsurumi recruited Ogata prior to him being able to enrol in the army.

Usami should be a year older, so he’s still pretty young. Did they join together or Usami also joined much earlier than planned? We’ll see.

Anyway the 4 of them are having a trip to Tokyo… and I can’t help but think if Tsurumi went in Tokyo with 3 of his soldiers whom he has twisted with ‘love’, things are likely going to turn troublesome.

LOL, now let’s only hope Sugimoto won’t introduce himself as Yuusaku… though if he were it could be that Tsurumi would spot the lie immediately and that’s why Ogata knows passing for an officer is a dumb plan.

On another side... this might be the moment in which Yuusaku and Ogata first met. I’m honestly scared.

Oh well, we’ll see.

Overall this chapter provided us some info and was nice but not that emotionally compelling, it merely seemed to plan to set up things for the next developments.

Anyway next week there’s a break so we’re in for a long wait.

#Golden Kamuy #Sugimoto Saichi #Kaneko Kaeko #Yamamura Hamako #Kikuta Mokutarou #Hanazawa Yuusaku #Hanazawa Koujirou #Ogata Hyakunosuke #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Usami Tokishige #Tsukishima Hajime #Kenmochi Umeko #Kenmochi Toraji #Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories

74 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 11

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

“Loki?” Frigga looked worriedly at her son who burst into his parents’ shared rooms. “Is everything…?”

“You conspired with that elf against me?” He snapped.

Sighing, Frigga gave a slight wave to her maids who all left the room. “Conspired is a strong word for it,” Her voice was calm and steady as she rose from her seat. “She wrote, asking of your character and I suggested she get to know you. Tatianna needed time with family and thus, I realised she could get to meet you without you being guarded as I knew you were unsure of the situation and were not likely to open up to her.”

Loki gasped in shock. “So you planned this? You were the one to actually suggest it?” He became more hurt at that revelation.

“You treat that maid with nothing but kindness, I thought if Raven saw that side of you also, she would see how caring you are. I knew that you would not open yourself as willingly to her otherwise.” “I…” he could not explain his anger, such was its intensity.

“Loki, I am truly sorry for doing this, clearly, it was a mistake on my behalf. I am genuinely sorry for hurting you so, my son.” She tried to have him look at her so that he would see she was being genuine. “In turn, I also hurt Raven.” Loki scoffed at the mention of the elf. “She is a lovely woman. Bright, kind, a good partner for you but instead, it appears my little idea has hurt you both so.” “Even after what you have done to me, the two of you, you care about her?” “Loki, Raven has had a very restricted life, she only wanted to know if she would be forced to endure the same here. I know you will not believe this but she simply wishes to be happy and knowing I am integral to the suffering of more unhappiness for her is upsetting for me. It does not take for my upset at the hurt I caused you.”

Loki scowled. Raven’s words came back to him again, of her loneliness and the life she was forced to lead thus far. He didn’t want to feel pity for her. He wanted to loathe her, something quite easy to do with her actions but it still played on his mind. Without saying another word to his mother, he turned to leave.

“I genuinely believe that given the time, you will see you are well suited, Loki,” Frigga stated.

“Perhaps we could have been.” Loki acknowledged. “But you scuppered our chances significantly with your idea.” With that, he left the room.

* Raven sat in her room, the door between her bed chambers and front chambers locked and with a sofa in front of it in case any thought to try and open it. She had been ready for Loki’s ire and remarks, she had long built a thick skin being the youngest of five and with four older brothers, what she had not been ready for was her own words. The idea of sitting alone in her rooms for days on end was nothing new to her, what was new was the knowledge that it would not come to an end. Growing up, she had hoped the day would come that she would have a happier existence. Even as a Ljósáfar wife to a Ljósáfar husband, she could not possibly be forced to remain as she had been growing up. On hearing she was marrying an Aesir, she knew life would be far different and on knowing it was Prince Loki, though she knew little of his demeanour, she knew the Aesir way of life would allow her far greater freedom and she also knew him to be very intelligent, allowing her to fantasise of the many conversations and discussions they could share. The debates they could muster in private in the evenings after court was complete for the day. She had been excited about that. Even if they did not see eye to eye, she had dreamed of debate and conversation where she was not required to remain silent. Instead, now she had ruined any such an idea and would be forced to look at the walls that currently surrounded her for considerable years yet to come and that felt far more daunting than she could ever fathom. It filled her with a dread that made her feel like she would begin to hyperventilate at any moment. She felt entirely trapped.

Questions swirled around in her mind. Would Loki take a mistress? Would he take many over the years? Would she have to endure dark-haired offspring he sired outside of wedlock to mistresses being recognised unofficially? Would she go to empty rooms every night while his were filled with love, passion and the giggles of a lover? Would she remain alone? Would people whisper how she was not a fit spouse? That she was not up to the task of securing the line of her husband. Or, just as heart-wrenching, would she be forgotten about, again. Only recognised and remembered when she stood in the shadow of the important male she was tied to.

Thoughts of her perhaps finding love, feeling unconditional love could not come to her, after all, such was preposterous to her current state. She remembered the affections she felt before with Lord Arden. The stolen kisses, the sneaking around and indeed, the illicit actions of it. When it was made clear that she was to wed Loki, he left immediately with no thorough explanation. She always wondered if it was because it hurt too much to see her being wed elsewhere and he wanted a clean break, or after a while, she suspected it was because he realised he would not achieve his goal of a respectable dowry from her and decided to try other women. She was unsure if she had come to that second conclusion in her own mind to placate her feelings or not but that was going to be her excuse to make her feel better, factual or otherwise.

Curled up with her head on her knees and her arms wrapped around them, she did nothing but think sadly of the situation at hand.

* “You insulted the Ljósáfar.”

Thor had Mjolnir ready for what was to come and chuckled to himself as he deflected several knives that Loki tossed his way.

“You’re never able to aim properly when you are overly angered.” “You said nothing.” Loki’s voice was barely over a hiss. “I was sworn to secrecy.” “By someone you don’t even know?” “By our mother, a being I know even longer than you do,” Thor stated, avoided a blast of magic by using Mjolnir’s own version of such. “Raven only agreed because she wanted to get to know you.” “And that was how she decided to do so?” Loki spat. “Not by engaging me in any manner that would signify any attempt of an honest and healthy introduction?” “Since you failed to answer her three written attempts at such, I cannot imagine she felt she had many other options.”

Loki froze. “What?” “Raven wrote to you. On three separate occasions, and you ignored all three.”

“No, she did not.” Loki shook his head. “Indeed, she did.” Thor reiterated. “This was confirmed, not only by her but when I asked the Postmaster, he confirmed it. I asked him so I could confirm it because you are not one to ignore a letter and I suspected you would call her a liar to save yourself. Three separate letters, dated months apart so to allow for time to receive and reply should you be otherwise busy, giving you time to do so. All three remained unanswered.” “I received no such letters,” Loki repeated.

“Well, three were sent from Alfheim, sorted by the Postmaster himself and delivered to your rooms,” Thor informed him. “She tried before now. It is why she had to try and find reports on your personality elsewhere.” Thor slapped his shoulder. “I wanted to warn you. Well, I mostly wanted to warn you. Part of me also wanted to see the look of shock on your face when you realised who she was. That was until I realised what you were saying about her. I told you many times, Loki, this is very hard on her.”

Loki had been bothered by the supposed letters he had not received until Thor mentioned Raven’s ‘struggle’. “Norns, if I have to hear this again.” He threw his brother’s hand from his shoulder. “Poor Raven, how lonely she has had it. How she had to remain seen and never heard. The Elf I have borne witness to is no such shrinking violet. She literally feels like she has to have the last word, come Helfheim or high water.”

“Because that is who she is. She feels here like she does not have to be a statue any longer.” Thor argued. “Do not lie for one second and tell me that you want a silent and boring wife because you and I both know you rather lose your life than being forced to wed someone without their tongue. How else could you ever have someone at your beck and call to argue with day and night? I would have thought an opinionated and in your belief, an argumentative wife would have suited you to the ground. I doubt you want a wife that would agree with everything you say without question. Where would be the fun in that?”

Loki could not argue that point. Nothing would disgust him more. “That does not negate her actions.”

“She felt she had no choice. Was it something I would suggest? No, but it was for a good reason. She just wanted a good partner.”

Loki scowled. “And in doing so, ensured she would not get one.”

“Loki, please. This is going ahead whether or not you are happy about it, so you have two choices, be angry with her for this, accept any and all apologies, learn about her and try and form a healthy and fulfilling marriage with her or continue this animosity and live an unfulfilled marriage. I will soon have to court my betrothed and if the options of both were on the table, I know I would not wish to remain arguing.” “She already made it clear, the hope is to perform some sacred ritual, ensure you and your wife spawn multiple times and stay as far away from me as is physically possible.”

“Loki, the woman I have spoken to multiple times wants entirely the opposite of that and I know you don’t want to believe it but to her, coming here, having a husband such as you was something she wanted. Sadly, things have gone slightly awry.” Loki began to scoff at his words before pausing. “When has all this conversing been taking place?” “Through her stay here.” Thor kept his answers broad so as to not have Loki sense any dishonesty.

Loki studied his brother closer. “Like when?” “Do you honestly think I can recall days and times off the top of my head?”

“Do you know where in the palace she is?” Thor tried to think of something to say to argue that but silence or a no would immediately be sensed as a lie. “Why?” “I deserve to know, as her betrothed, surely?” “Not if you are going to add to her loneliness with it.” “Loneli…If I wanted to add to her loneliness, the last thing I would do is ask where to find her, Thor.” Loki scoffed. “Where is she?”

“I am not going to tell you if you are going to use it to add to this farce.” Thor’s declared.

Loki knew he was telling the truth, much to his own annoyance. “Then leave.” “This is the royal hallway, I don’t have to leave. I live here, same as you.” Thor reminded him. “In your time speaking with Raven, what have you learnt of her?” “That she’s a conniving wench.”

“No, Loki. In all seriousness, what have you learnt of her? What did it reveal of her knowledge of you?”

“Nothing, she knows nothing of me. Made clear by how she thought to get to know me.” He snapped. “Her way of speaking to me was not to introduce herself but to act like a maid, to scrub toilets and rummage through my belongings. That’s how little she thinks of me.” Loki paused. He had not thought of that previously. She had been privy to all of his belongings. Letters of private matters, items of personal value that he would not have wanted her to see. It annoyed him greatly that she had touched and rummaged through such things.

Seeing his brother getting irritated, Thor decided to alter his train of thought before he focused too greatly on what was annoying him. “So in that time, she got nothing right about your personality? I refuse to believe that because when I discussed the issue with her, I think she got your personality to perfection. The anger, the silent treatment, she even apologised to me for the aggression you would show me, both physical and otherwise.” “That, she did ascertain correctly. That is hardly surprising as it would be considered a normal reaction by most.” Loki dismissed. “I will not repeat myself, where is she?” “You’re repeating yourself saying that to me again.” Thor pointed out. “Until you are willing to speak with her like an adult, I will not tell you.” “You owe me.” “You owe her, considering you never even wrote back when she tried to engage you herself.” Loki said nothing as Thor walked off, leaving him to his thoughts. He walked back to his room and looked at the platter his letters always were placed when delivered to him. There were three there at that time. He walked over and looked around, noting there was nowhere any letter could have fallen for him to not have seen it.

The Aesir Postmaster was a man of set ways. He was practically devout in how he viewed his role. If a letter went missing in his office, Norns have mercy on the being that moved it. He took the role as seriously as Odin took the role of Allfather. If he genuinely told Thor that there had been three letters from the Ljósáfar palace for him, then there had been. So where were they?

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #chapter 11 #hiding in plain sitght #wolfpawn

48 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

The Cowboy - Part 10

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) -- swearing, and I’ve never been to a rodeo in real life so I probably didn’t make a fully realistic scene, so don’t hate me, it’s fiction lol

Word count: 2281

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

It truly was another world. The country music was playing live from the stage nearby and the endless row of stalls selling assortments from horse gear to food overstimulated you. You had lost Avery in the crowd, the tall man crossing paths with a group of women from high school.

Jaehyun smirked. “He’s always been the popular one.”

“And you the troublemaker?” you offered and Jaehyun laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re the troublemaker. How do you propose I deal with worrying about you when I’m warming up Trickster soon? Maybe you should come with me.”

“I’ll be fine exploring whilst you do that. I’ve seen you ride so much now, I’m convinced your butt is a perfect shape to mold to any saddle seat.”

“Well, you should know, having seen my butt how many times now?”

“Jaehyun!” you gasped, slapping his upper arm and looking around yourselves. You relaxed, realising you saw no familiar faces nearby.

He seemed to read your mind. “Avery knows about us. He’s helping me out by keeping his mother clueless.”

“Would anyone else come from Blayne today?” you asked, and Jaehyun shook his head.

“Not really. It’s more so people from the town over that will. And whilst you’re a household name in Blayne, you’re not on familiar terms yet with others. Which means…”

“Which means?” you repeated, grinning when Jaehyun reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. You looked down at the gesture. “I felt that tremble, Jaehyun.”

“What tremble?” he feigned innocence for only a moment. “Maybe I have some butterflies about today. I want this to go well.”

“It will. I know it will.”

“Because I have your support?” he teased, and you shook your head, trying not to roll your eyes.

“Because it’s a passion of yours. I can tell you want this opportunity.”

“It would be real nice. Joey told me if I qualify, he can help me with the training. I’ll need to find extra time to do it, maybe travel to his barn a few times a week for evening training but it’s doable.”

“You’re so cute, you know that?” you said, recycling one of Jaehyun’s lines. He picked up on it and laughed. “I like seeing you this hopeful.”

“I’m hopeful about us too.”

“You are?”

“If I win today, my Dad will be pretty chuffed. Maybe we could tell him about us.”

“No more acting like teenagers over this. We’re grown adults, Jaehyun. Regardless of if you win or not, let’s tell him. I’m planning on meeting with him on Thursday for my business proposition, so if that goes well, I doubt he’ll have any concerns about us.”

“This is my Dad we’re talking about. There’s a whole lot about him, about us, that you don’t know.”

“Are you hiding someone in the attic?!” you asked, gasping dramatically. Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “You’ve got an entirely different life kept behind closed doors? How about being the culprit to-”

“Here you two are,” Avery interrupted, eyeing your linked hands with high interest. “Is this why you wanted to come today, Y/N? Away from the prying Blayne eyes, you can finally go on a date with your beau?”

“A date?” you pondered before looking up at Jaehyun. He grinned. “We’ve been on a few of those already in Blayne.”

“And no one knows that you two are together? Woah, I’m impressed with how well you’ve covered them up.”

“Not for long,” Jaehyun announced and you smiled happily, nodding in agreement. “But I am mighty glad you’re back, Avery. Can you keep an eye on this one? I’m sure if left to her own devices, some of the sellers in the market here will have her pulling out money she doesn’t need to spend.”

“You’re insulting my judgment so easily!” you called after Jaehyun’s departing back.

Avery grinned. “Well, you chose him over me. I’ve been doubtful of your taste this whole time.”

“Avery McConnell?”

Spinning to see another woman approach you both, you grinned. “He’s all yours. I’m going to go watch from the stadium.”

An hour had passed by, and you were struggling with the concept of being at a rodeo. On one hand, it was thrilling to watch but also reckless. You knew there was a danger behind the sport, as there was with most sports. But you didn’t realise how easy it was to fall off at this calibre of competition.

You gasped as a young girl, no older than fifteen hit into a barrel and her horse was deep in the turn, losing its footing and the pair fell, the horse landing on top of her. With bated breath, you watched as she managed to get back to her feet, albeit with an evident hobble.

“Your first time?” an older woman asked knowingly, and you nodded. “Not from around here?”

“Originally from the city,” you admitted sheepishly, and the woman laughed.

“Called that by a mile.”

“Do I stand out that much?”

“You’re no country pumpkin like me, that’s for sure.”

“Ah.” You looked her over and smiled. “I think you’re lovely.”

“I wasn’t meaning how we look, love. You’re here to support your boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“And he’ll come out here soon, and you’ll be the type to cheer. Don’t. It’s really tacky and could throw him off. Do you even know what barrel racing is about?”

“Some. There’s three barrels, and you have to make it through the sequence with the fastest time and without touching them.”

“It’s a dangerous sport. The horses are trained athletes. It might be all over in fifteen to seventeen seconds, but during that time, it’s a race against their life. They need to move without any issue, carry the weight of their rider perfectly, and dig deep to get around and then gallop off again. And the riders are just as focused. It’s more than just a sequence. Everything counts.”

“Wow, and he had a chance to go pro for this?”

She laughed loudly then. “All cowboys will tell you that, sweetie. Who are you rooting for?”

“Jung Jaehyun,” you mentioned and her amused expression dropped, scooting closer to you. Leaning back from her sudden invasion of your space, you laughed weakly. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, he’s good. He’s back on the circuit? He took time off ever since the fire. I didn’t think he’d be back to this level.”

“What fire?”

“Blayne’s fire,” she replied, her eyes now peeled to the catalogue, checking out Jaehyun’s details. She gasped. “Joey Newman’s horse?! He didn’t come to mess around today.”

You smiled politely at the woman, slipping into your thoughts. You knew this was a big thing for Jaehyun, but was he that big of a deal in this world? The new information explained the nerves, but he had downplayed this to you all day long. The barrel racing was one of the last sports on the schedule for this rodeo, and for hours beforehand, Jaehyun had assured you it was like a training event. Yet, this woman now had you believing otherwise.

“Can I ask something?” you enquired, coming out of your reverie and the blonde woman nodded. “What happens if he makes the top five today?”

“He’ll be scouted. Perhaps he already is getting calls. He held the fastest time for five years straight in this region. Everyone wanted a piece of him before his father pulled him out.”

“Pulled him out?” you breathed, blinking rapidly. “Why did he-?”

“How about you ask your cowboy that you’re having a fling with all about it, once he’s done racing the clock, if you have further questions.”

“It’s not a fling,” you corrected and she smiled sadly at you.

“Darl, I was dating Billy Burke. You might not know that name but everyone around here did. He went pro, won the Nationals and become a million dollars richer.”

“A million dollars?!”

She shrugged. “I was pregnant with his baby at the time he got offered to go pro. We were supposed to get married. But, you know, it was his dream to go pro. When given the choice between love and the race, he chose the latter. So what if he has money? He has all that fame now too. All I have is his kid who hasn’t met his Daddy once. Let me warn you, cowboys might charm you with their country hospitality but they all have bigger goals than the farms they run back home. Once Jaehyun is given the chance, he’ll forget that Blayne even exists.”

“I doubt that,” you defended. “I’m sorry to hear of your circumstances, and even if Jaehyun and I end, I can confirm Blayne means more to him than-”

“You really don’t know what he did to Blayne, do you?” Pity for you emerged in her eyes. “What do you know aside from his body then?”

Getting up, you stormed out from the bleachers you had been sitting upon, feeling foolish for being so worked up by a stranger. Before you could leave, however, Avery leapt up towards you and clapped his hands together. “He’s next up. Where are you going?”

“Oh, I uh, need fresh air.”

“Worried about him falling off? Don’t be. He’s the best here today, you’re about to see it. No one else can go from being a farmhand to a decent barrel racer without practising than Jaehyun. Come on, you can get air after his run.”

Nodding numbly, you allowed Avery to push you along, taking a seat again. Avery greeted a few of the people around you, and you watched the horse and rider before you now, finishing their run with ease. You looked to the sidelines, wondering where Jaehyun was.

“I thought you said he was next.”

“He is. He’ll be making his way in any second now.”

The grating voice of the commentator muted as soon as you saw the spotted horse come racing into the arena, your eyes peeled on the pair heading towards their first barrel. Clasping your hands together, you watched on intensely, praying Jaehyun and Trickster would make it around safely.

The woman had been right. It was a sport that relied on precision and speed. You had always considered a minute to be such a short period of time, but as the seconds went by, you found yourself changed. Every second counted now.

Jaehyun and Trickster rounded the final barrel and galloped to the exit, Avery’s screams and sudden shaking your arm jostled you out of the blur that had been your vision towards the end.

Fifteen seconds was all it took to give you clarity on your feelings.

“He made it! That lucky son of a bitch!” Avery rejoiced, and you stood up jarringly, walking down the aisle to the exit. Avery was still full of energy at your side. “He’ll be cooling Trickster down, Y/N. Come this way to the holding pen.”

You followed along in a slight daze, your heart thumping with the thoughts within your head. You disregarded all the information, the warnings that stranger had given you. When you saw Jaehyun walking the heavily breathing animal around and patting his neck, you almost broke into a run to reach the side of the pen faster.

Noticing your arrival, Jaehyun grinned and walked the horse over. “Well, what did you think?”

“I think I’m in love you,” you announced sincerely.

“After seeing only one run?!” Avery joked, but Jaehyun’s expression grew serious, not shifting away from yours even as he continued to walk the horse around.

Distractedly, Jaehyun called out for the groom of Joey’s ranch and dismounted, walking over to you and ducking under the metal bar that separated you from him. “You mean what you say?”

You nodded, choking on the sudden emotions that had come with your confession.

“You can’t take it back after I give you this chance, Y/N. You mean it?”

“I love you,” you repeated, and that was all it took for Jaehyun to crash his lips upon yours.

There was no thought to the professionals around you, nor Avery who had stepped aside to give you albeit a tiny amount of privacy. You didn’t care at all who watched you lock lips with Jaehyun right now.

Because it felt right.

You hadn’t expected to arrive in Blayne and find yourself looking in different directions for your life. It had always been well-planned out. You would build your career and work hard during these years, so when you had achieved all you set out for you could relax into love and create a family.

The country didn’t work like that. The values were so different from what you had experienced in your fast-paced life. And now that you had been given the opportunity to slow down a little, to take in the world outside of an office and not be attached to a screen day in and out, you were finding your desires were changing too.

You liked the idea of waking up in someone’s arms and falling asleep whispering sweet nothings to one another. During those fifteen seconds, you imagined your life without Jaehyun in it, and it made you want to do absolutely everything in your power to remain at his side.

You meant the love confession. You had never spoken of love to another person before. It was liberating, fulfilling. As Jaehyun burned his lips into yours, you knew he felt the same.

It hadn’t been long between you. But this summer romance was shaping your world more than you believed it had for his parents all those years ago.

You couldn’t imagine going back to the city now.

_________________

Part 11

[NCT Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

81 notes · View notes

whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

The Unforgiving Tide

Today I got my first dose of the Covid vaccine so to celebrate I wrote Mortch h/c because I love it and I can't help it. It's also centered around one of my favorites-- Route 66 so enjoy the pain assholes

No warnings or anything just the normal stuff

Derek Morgan knows one thing for certain and that is that there is absolutely no way that anything about love is a choice. The absolute light of his life, the person who puts a pep in his step and gets him through the day is Penelope Garcia and that is who he would choose. Day in and day out, it is Penelope and he loves her to the ends of the Earth but love, as Derek has come to understand it, is very much so not about choices. Rarely is it ever the easiest and that’s, of course, the option Derek has been given. Because while Penelope fancies the worst type of men and the prettiest women Derek gets her polar opposite.

Which is strange because he knows he’s heard somewhere that love like his balances out in some ways-- that Aaron and Penelope should have more in common. But Aaron looks like if the Grim Reaper walked among them and Penelope as if one person could harness all that is the rainbow. Well… maybe that’s only for straight people and those not screwed by life into falling in love with brooding, silent idiots like Aaron Hotchner.

None of them say it, and he’s acutely aware that he’s mostly the reason why, but it feels strange without Hotch here with them. Dave unflinchingly keeps them moving on, doesn’t push at Derek’s coiling rattlesnake of a mood, but he keeps them in motion. The others need it because this is the part of the job that they stumble over. The part that requires they leave certain things behind. Today it’s Hotch not even an hour after seeing his limp form moved from the conference floor onto a stretcher. When they’d watched for seven and a half minutes as he lay on the floor unresponsive. Deaf to Dave frantically calling out his name, to JJ trying to squeeze his hand to make his fingers curl back around hers.

Derek had sat on the plane looking at all the signs he’d managed to miss. The WebMD page pulled up on his screen so he could flick back and forth between his messages with Aaron and the symptoms listed out on the page. Felt his stomach churn as each symptom made its way into their conversations from the week. How Aaron had known something was wrong but Derek hadn’t, he wasn’t even concerned. He’d let Aaron turn food away and didn’t press on that like he should have. Aaron had told him his blood pressure was low, anxiously rubbing at his fingers and his voice going breathless with his struggle to admit that. Derek had… He’s become blind to the countless, never-ending problems with Aaron’s body and now Aaron’s having emergency surgery for something Derek should have seen. Alone in Virginia while Derek hunts down some girl who likely doesn’t want to be found.

Because Derek hadn’t seen.

He hadn’t known.

“He’ll be okay,” JJ whispers, squeezing his fingers the same way she had Aaron’s. He looks down at their joined hands, hears Dave calling out for Aaron again. Hears the silence of his own thoughts, remembers that he’d just stood there. Maybe the problem isn’t Aaron at all…

Somehow he ends up angry, not at himself, but at Aaron. The doctors are always warning him about things like this. Dips or rises in his blood pressure are detrimental to his body, he can’t regulate his body temperature like a normal person. He has to have so much caloric intake daily. When he doesn’t meet that level he’s playing a very dangerous game with his body. Throw in the anticoagulants that he takes, the Lexapro, the steroids that bombard his body to fight off the arthritis swelling in his right hand. There are so many more and Derek can’t even begin to name them, Aaron can’t either. If he misses a dose their day crashes to the ground.

He needs that medicine to survive and Derek doesn’t need to be told that somewhere along the line this can be accounted for. That he’ll find one too many of something in one of those prescription bottles pushing the cabinet’s ability to stay closed. A doctor’s going to tell him Aaron’s weight has dropped again and they’ll probably put him on some special diet that makes him miserable. Have him choking down thick smoothies choked full of spinach and vitamins and some special blend of chalk.

Where was Derek?

He’s in the kitchen with Aaron, they eat ⅔ of their meals together. Derek checks these things so how did it slip by him? How did he miss something so in his face?

-------------

Time is very warped but he knows the intensity of the pain eating up his body. Overwhelming heat spreading through him, breaking his skin out in a cold sweat that leaves him shivering and moving wounds that he can’t see but he can most certainly feel. His dry lips part and he grunts, eyelids too heavy to do more than flutter but he can see the blurred outline of someone by his side. Can track pale flesh to where it’s connected to his own.

“Hotch?” a cold hand presses to his face, a finger brushing through a tear that slides down his cheek. “You’re okay.”

That’s not really the question, not the most pressing thing on his mind. Memories tangle in his poor understanding of past and present. Tasers and gunshots and stabbings-- he can’t discern what has happened with what already did. Bits of tragedies creating a confusing web he finds himself ensnared in.

He sees blonde hair, feels those cold fingers ghosting along his skin. “Garcia?” he asks because he needs one solid piece of truth to hold onto. “What happened?” She won’t lie to him, he trusts this blindly. There’s something about the two of them, with or without Derek in the equation, that draws them to one another. A safety he finds in all her brightness, like turning your face to the sun and he is everything that she is not but there is always safety in his shadows. A place she can tuck herself into to escape being known for just a moment and just be.

She squeezes his fingers, bringing feeling to them. The movement is something to focus on, something real where only hazy snippets have made themselves known. “I don’t--” she’s uncertain if she’s allowed to tell him. The risk of upsetting him far larger than her want to please him by telling him. “Everyone’s ok. We’re all okay.”

His hum of understanding comes delayed, his presence of mind slipping. He wants to press on, ask more questions, and know exactly what she means by everyone and what “okay” constitutes. Not because he doesn’t necessarily trust her but because he isn’t sure how many people is everyone. Jack? Did he hurt his own son? Is Emily here? Did he hurt her? What about Dave? He feels distanced from Dave but he won’t forgive himself if he hurt the other man. And what of Derek? Oh… Derek, would she really tell him if he were hurt?

She presses her palm to his forehead, working her fingers through his soft hair. Smiling when he turns into her, closing his mouth and giving in. Stopping this futile fight. “Just rest,” she assures him. “You’re okay.” He thinks, passively as she presses a kiss to his temple and tugs the blankets closer to his chest, that she’s being too tender. Too nice. He hasn’t got the proof just yet but he’s too tired to push for more.

-------------

Derek goes home as soon as they land in Virginia, he can feel their eyes on his back as he moves to his car without comment. They got Samantha Wilcox and now his job is done, nothing he does anymore has to be something that they see and he cherishes the thirty minutes it’s going to take to get home. Thirty whole minutes to do what he needs to. Cry or scream or punch something and all without Spencer’s sad eyes following him or JJ trying to be supportive. He just wants to feel unabashed and freely, without consequence.

He turns the volume of his CD up, tears form and the last thing he wants to hear are his own sobs. He’s not focused on the music, he just needs something loud and distracting to get him home. The CD starts to play and quickly, harder than what’s necessary he turns it off. It’s Aaron’s and angry tears that he can’t blink away swell in his eyes as he thinks about how much he hates the song “Back In the USSR”. It’s just bad music but Aaron loves it.

And he’s back to thinking about reality and not this bubble of nothing he’s trying to convince himself he has. Aaron’s go-bag is with Penelope but there are other things that he needs that won’t be in there. Derek realizes that he has no idea if the hospital will need Aaron’s other prescriptions or just what all he should bring to the hospital. He really doesn’t know anything at all but home is safe and it’s not the hospital so heads there.

He grabs what he knows Aaron will want.

Aaron’s worn copy of Anna Karenina is sitting on his nightstand, his reading glasses on Derek’s. They once had a case to go in but Derek doesn’t waste time looking for that, just tucks one of the sides into his shirt. He goes to his own dresser and pulls out a flannel. Aaron has plenty of his own, and ones that fit those abnormally long arms of his, but he’ll prefer this one nonetheless. Not that it’s special, it’s just Derek’s. There are other, nonessential, things that he grabs mindlessly trying to think about those stupid lists Aaron’s always making for this exact case scenario but he can’t remember everything.

Derek grows flustered and with a thick sigh, tears swelling in his eyes, he throws himself across their bed. His chest hitches and he moves until his face is in Aaron’s pillow, breathing in that distinct smell of his soap and detergent. This is his fault, isn’t it? He can’t begin to think about how many times Dave warned him something like this would happen. That loving Aaron means things like this and watching his back. That this isn’t fieldwork and he can’t let his guard down the second he thinks the dangers over. And he’d promised Emily when she left he could handle it. He loves Aaron so it shouldn’t be that hard and she’d smiled so sadly when he said that and now he wishes he hadn’t understood why.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he has half a mind to ignore it. Whatever it is can wait but he doesn’t want to miss anything with Aaron. “Hello?” half his face is still pushed into the bed.

There’s a crackle over the phone, something being moved and Penelope’s voice just slightly distanced. He’s just about to speak again when the sound gets clear. “Sorry!” she offers. “Hotch looked cold so I was fighting the blanket monsters in the closet to save him!” She sounds just breathless enough that he can imagine her standing on her tiptoes trying to fight down a blanket from somewhere too high.

He knows there’s no way Aaron asked for a blanket. “How is he?” Derek asks softly.

Penelope sits herself down in the visitor’s chair and looks over at Hotch. He’s sleeping, hasn’t so much as moved a muscle since he woke up. “Confused,” she sighs. She’s not really sure if he had looked cold but she can’t stand just sitting here and watching so she had to do something and besides, Hotch is always cold.

Derek hums.

“Are you coming?”

The others are all probably there already. He knows he’ll use this trip home as his excuse but he could have asked any one of them to collect these things. They wouldn’t even need him to tell them where things are, wouldn’t even need to be told which things to get. He’s just stalling and he knows it. “Yeah,” he pulls Aaron’s pillow close. Wrapping his arms around it like it’s the body of the man he wishes so badly were here right now. Then Derek could think about something else-- the way Aaron’s legs get tangled in the bedsheets or the fact that he drools when he’s sleeping really, really good.

But Aaron isn’t here.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.”

He’s met with tears. Spencer stands before him, shaking the limb of a tree in the wind of a great storm. The kind that would wake Aaron in the middle of the night, enticing him with the sharp whipping sounds and the crashing of distant trash cans. Forcing Derek to wake up shivering, wondering where Aaron’s dragged himself off to. He’s fairly certain he no longer knows how to sleep without Aaron there-- without the feeling of his comfortable weight settled against his hips. Aaron always sleeps so close to him, never more than an arm’s length away.

The tears that hit Spencer’s cheeks are like the fat drops that ping off the windows. The harder ones always startling Aaron until he can self-consciously glance at Derek and see if he noticed. He always does. Spencer pulls his mouth open, moving his jaw like the hinges of an old front door.

“Is he dead?” Derek doesn’t feel up for waiting for all the foolishness of whatever nonsense Spencer’s come up with. Whatever it is that he’s gearing up for can wait, Derek only cares about one thing.

Reid glances to the floor, “I-- I-- He’s, ugh, Garcia’s still back with him.”

Good. Derek squeezes Spencer’s shoulder as he passes but doesn’t say anything. Spencer doesn’t do well with this business, the realization that the people he loves crack. They stumble and they fall and they get hurt and Derek doesn’t feel like lying. Because Aaron is like this a lot and Spencer won’t believe him anyway.

He passes Dave and he gets a good supportive nod. “I called Emily,” Dave tells him. “I think she’d appreciate it if you called her back later.”

Derek nods his head, she’ll likely want to speak to Aaron. He can already hear that argument but it’ll be good for someone to be angry with Aaron. God knows Emily won’t be pleased. It’ll give Aaron something to focus on, an argument to win while everything else falls in around him. Because he already knows Emily’s going to threaten to come home but Aaron won’t let her. Derek smiles as he thinks about that, she’ll wait a week he already knows. In a week she’ll be down here and she’ll be met with one of Aaron’s tired sighs while she vehemently denies she came home to make sure he was really okay.

Derek doesn’t understand why they can’t just say express worry like other people.

Penelope greets him with a tight hug as if she’s squeezing all the bad feelings away. He lets her try but she pulls away and knows she was unsuccessful. “He’s been very well behaved,” Penelope tells him brightly. As if they’re talking about Derek’s mischievous toddler. “Almost… snugly.” He’d let her hold his hand, turning himself in towards the comforting hand she’d placed against his cheek. No one else’s definition of warm but for Hotch that’s… it’s pretty snugly.

“Mmm,” Derek knows he’ll get the moody, if not clingy bits of Aaron but he’ll be okay. “Thank you,” he tells her sincerely, squeezing her hands and sinking into the hug she wraps him into. “He doesn’t like--” he can’t get the rest of the words out, choking on tears. Aaron hates waking up in the hospital. Derek’s seen it enough to know. It’s too disorienting but a familiar face always helps.

Penelope nods, squeezing him. “I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

With a nod, Derek pulls away and he wipes his eyes. Tries to pull himself together but he’s been too angry all day, too on edge to really clean up.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Penelope says, her bags collected as she’s stepping out.

Derek can only hope that’s true.

He settles down in the visitor’s chair and frowns when he sees how swollen Aaron’s right hand is. He finds the grooves of the joint easily, rubbing at the boney digits mindlessly as he searches the bed for the TV remote. There’s got to be something on the TV. It’s not football season anymore but baseball is on and that’s the best sport according to Aaron. Derek wonders how he ended up with someone who hates watching sports so much but that can make things interesting. But baseball… Aaron hates everything else but won’t complain when Derek puts on baseball of all things.

Aaron makes a soft crackling sound as he wakes, turning his head from Derek, and grunting a half whimper when he can’t pull his hand away from Derek’s hold. He pries his eyes open, mouth too dry to form full words but the sound of his lips touching sounds just enough like Derek’s name for him to smile up at Aaron. His eyes close again, pinched with the pain rolling through his chest and the agitated flames licking at the joints of his right hand. The latter of which Derek is not helping as he rotates his thumb over the swollen skin, digging into hurt like he’s trying to draw blood.

Tenderly, Derek moves Aaron’s fingers to the bed, standing with a groan of his own when the small of his back lights up like timber as he stretches out. He smiles when he sees Aaron’s hazily drugged gaze go right to where his shirt rides up over his hips and blushes furiously when he’s caught. Derek hums to himself, shaking his head but smiling all the same. It’s cute, he thinks as he pours Aaron a cup of water. Very cute, he decides when he finds that the blush hasn’t crept away when he turns back to him.

“Small sips,” Derek directs softly, holding the straw to Aaron’s lips.

The first sip hurts, burns his sensitive throat as it goes down but it creates an insatiable thirst. He greedily pulls at the straw for more until Derek pulls it away from him. If Derek could have it his way, he’d never tell Aaron no but too much water will make him sick. While Aaron looks at him now as if a victim of something truly heinous, he’ll be thankful when he has nothing in his system to throw up when the anesthesia wrecks his stomach.

Derek sits back down and picks Aaron’s hand back up, eyes flicking to Aaron’s when he whimpers at just the gentle touch. Without a word, Derek resumes his rubbing to try and soothe the joints of his hand into some sort of reprise in normal hood. But Aaron’s exhausted and confused, nearly overwhelmed by the drugs and Derek and the weight of his chest, and he whimpers. Tries to pull away again because all he knows is that touching hurts and can’t fathom that it is so much worse when Derek doesn’t wring the pain out.

“Ouch,” Aaron croaks, breathlessly grunting and trying to move his fingers. It’s as pins have been set in the bones and he cries out at this new overwhelming pain. “Please,” he asks Derek, “stop it. Hurts.”

Derek shushes him softly, pouring his attention into willing Aaron’s pain into submission. “You’re okay,” Derek promises. “You’re okay.” But his words do nothing to stop the pain and Aaron just looks back at him. Sad, pained eyes darting over Derek’s face. “It’s okay, Aaron.”

Aaron turns his head, gasping slightly at the way it pulls at the stitches. “Sorry,” he whispers. Looking up at Derek and searching Derek’s face for some inclination of truth. Of what’s happening but he’s certain there’s something to be sorry for. There’s no way he hasn’t done something he shouldn’t have. Pushed something or forgotten it.

Derek wipes the single tear that falls down Aaron’s cheek away with his thumb. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Derek soothes. “You’re okay.” That seems to work in some small way, Aaron swallowing thickly but not dragging his tired eyes away from Derek’s. Slowly he combs his fingers through Aaron’s hair, pushing back the long strands. With a smirk, seeing the blissed eased way Aaron has fallen back into the pillow at his touch alone, he feels a spark of mischief hit him. He can’t help but smile. “Emily is going to call you later,” he whispers, smiling brighter when Aaron groans. Pinching his face up. Derek rolls his eyes, “you love her.”

Aaron cracks an eye open, setting a drugged sort of haze scowl onto him. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” With a shake of his head, he knows his Aaron’s back, just a grumpy little glimpse but he’s there. Fighting his way through the drugs. “I mean it,” Aaron grumbles. The last thing he needs is Emily getting the idea that he might actually cherish her friendship.

Derek does roll his eyes this time, “if you behave you can buy my silence.”

Aaron cracks an eye open but doesn’t complain. Derek’s going to tell Dave anyhow so it doesn’t matter if Aaron does behave, even though Derek knows he won’t, Emily will hear it. He might even sprinkle something else in there as payback. That what he gets, serves him right for scaring Derek like that. Derek is really going to enjoy watching Aaron get himself out of this hole but for now…

He squeezes Aaron’s wrist, smiling when Aaron turns his head towards him humming just under his breath. “I love you,” Derek confesses softly and it’s rare that he gets a verbal reply but he’s learned to lean into the numerous ways Aaron knows how to say it. And today he doesn’t hear the words back but tomorrow he’ll find a popsicle or a jello cup waiting for him. Aaron’s grumpy scowl lightening when he steps into the room. And Derek will know that Aaron loves him too.

#mortch #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan

50 notes · View notes

passionate-reply · 3 years ago

Video

youtube

Great Albums is kicking off Pride Month with a special feature on one of the weirdest and wildest queer artists of the New Wave era: the one and only Klaus Nomi! Combining glam, synth-pop, and opera, of all things, Nomi’s tragically short career is nothing short of mystifying. Check out the video or read the full transcript, below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at the self-titled debut album of one of the most unique, incomparable, and unforgettable artists in music history: the one and only Klaus Nomi. What is it that makes Nomi so noteworthy? Perhaps the most obvious thing is his background as a classically trained opera singer. While a lot of pop vocalists have some degree of classical training, it’s rare to find one who worked so hard to bring ultra-mannered, literally operatic lead vocals into an otherwise pop context.

The other thing I should mention is that Nomi’s voice part was the “countertenor,” giving his vocals an even more unusual dimension. Countertenors are men who sing in a high range usually covered by women, and even in the operatic tradition, they weren’t necessarily all that common, particularly since the rise of opera coincided with that of the infamous castrati--male singers who were castrated to preserve their prepubescent voices. The combination of partially electronic, New Wave compositions with these bizarre, but ultimately “traditional” vocals results in something that sounds simply otherworldly.

Music: “Total Eclipse”

“Total Eclipse” is probably Nomi’s best known track, due in part to being featured in the seminal concert film Urgh! A Music War, which sought to capture the diversity of the early 80s New Wave scene. Like a lot of classic songs of this era, it tackles the subject of nuclear annihilation, albeit with a nearly depraved, gleeful tone, that makes it feel like more of a party. For the verses, Nomi adopts a sort of rhythmic speak-singing, which was much more par for the course for “New Wave” music, only to shockingly explode into a powerful operatic rendition of the refrain. It reminds me a bit of how, in musical theatre, tension builds through spoken dialogue, before characters are so emotional they feel compelled to burst into song--or, of course, how recitative blossoms into arias in opera. In the context of this particular track, it’s easy to interpret it as an embodiment of how “cold wars” can suddenly burst into flame. While “Total Eclipse” was a new composition, written specifically for Nomi by Kristian Hoffman, this album also features several covers of past hits, such as “You Don’t Own Me.”

Music: “You Don’t Own Me”

Nomi’s covers of the Midcentury pop ditties “Lightning Strikes” and “You Don’t Own Me” repeat the structure of “Total Eclipse,” showing that this signature pattern of increasing tension leading to increasingly mannered vocals is just as effective when retroactively applied to pre-existing compositions. What’s also significant about “You Don’t Own Me” is that it was originally written for a woman, Lesley Gore, and its defiant assertion of self-confidence has long been associated with women’s liberation. Being openly gay, Nomi sees fit to leave the lyric “play with other boys” just as it is, and could be interpreted to be deliberately emphasizing that last word, intentionally queering his rendition of the song. Nomi’s ability to sing in a traditionally female voice range, combined with his eccentric, gender-bending personal aesthetic, makes the interrogation of traditional concepts of gender an integral part of his art. Some of the other covers on the album are even older than the Midcentury, coming from the golden age of opera, such as “The Cold Song.”

Music: “The Cold Song”

Also known by its opening lyrics, “What power art thou?”, “The Cold Song” is a rare operatic aria that was actually designed for the countertenor voice part. It was written by the English composer William Purcell, a noted fan of countertenors who lived outside the influence of the Italian castrati, for his 1691 opera King Arthur. Well, King Arthur is actually what’s sometimes called a “semi-opera”: not all characters sing, and those who do often tend to be supernatural entities. “The Cold Song” is sung by a winter spirit called the Cold Genius, when reluctantly awakened from icy slumber by Cupid. His lines are sung so as to stutter, as he shivers from the freezing cold of his surrounds. Unlike the pop covers on the album, the arias are actually played pretty straight, almost as if they serve as evidence of Nomi’s actual chops doing traditional opera the old-fashioned way. “The Cold Song” is certainly a great fit for Nomi’s unique stage persona, which presented him as a fey or elfin non-human visitor from some mythical Otherworld, or perhaps an extraterrestrial from outer space. This theme is addressed most directly by the one track on this album composed entirely by Nomi himself: “Keys of Life.”

Music: “Keys of Life”

“Keys of Life” is the album’s opening track, and perhaps serves as Nomi’s personal introduction to the people of our realm--a sort of musical “we come in peace” message. Its lyrics seem to portray Nomi as a benevolent visitor, but one with a dire warning for mankind: we need to get our act together soon, for our actions now are of great import, as we humans “hold the keys of life.” Perhaps Nomi’s mission is to prevent climate catastrophe on Earth, or, given the context of “Total Eclipse,” a nuclear apocalypse. With its warbling synthesiser backdrop, and Nomi singing fully in the operatic style throughout, “Keys of Life” is arguably the most experimental piece to be had on the album, and putting it as the very first track certainly pulls no punches.

It is, of course, difficult to fully address the significance of Nomi’s persona without getting into his visual identity. The cover of Nomi’s self-titled debut features his most iconic outfit: an oversized plastic tuxedo, with hugely exaggerated shoulders, and a pointed hairstyle with a bit of Streamline Moderne flair. I mentioned earlier that Nomi’s work seems concerned with gender, and in that context, I’ve often interpreted this look as a sort of caricature of masculinity, parodying men’s formalwear and calling attention to Nomi’s receding hairline. There is certainly something absurd about a high-pitched, perhaps feminine-coded voice emerging from a ludicrously masculine sort of character. The use of thin, shiny, reflective plastic, and the aforementioned Midcentury feel of the hairstyle, make me also consider interpreting it as less of a parody, and more of an alien’s bad attempt at adopting the appearance of an “ordinary,” upstanding, conservative human male in attire, using space-age materials to cobble it together.

The oversized, geometric appearance of Nomi’s garb reminds me of the great Dada poet, Hugo Ball, founder of the legendary Cabaret Voltaire. Ball was the inventor of what he called “sound poetry,” and enacted lively readings of poetry that consisted of entirely nonsensical words. He did this while wearing a strange, cylindrical-shaped cardboard suit, said to restrict his movements so much that Ball needed to be ceremoniously carried off stage when he was finished reciting. Given their shared German heritage and cabaret avant-gardism, I can’t help but wonder if Ball’s striking costume was something of an influence on Nomi here.

This album is, of course, self-titled, but that, too, is an artistic choice that can be analyzed. The artist was born Klaus Sperber, but adopted the stage name “Nomi” for his creative endeavours. In the context of the track “The Nomi Song,” the name is often used punningly in comparison with the English phrase “know me.” Nomi’s choice of stage name is almost a dare or a challenge, a request for us to attempt to know and understand this seemingly inscrutable being before us. As with many other portrayals of queerness as alien or otherworldly, the messaging here seems to be that Nomi may seem different at first, but his intent is ultimately benign, should mere mortals like ourselves be kind enough to give him a chance.

Nomi’s follow-up to this debut album was 1982’s Simple Man, an album which is much more similar to its predecessor than different. It has a wider variety of contributing musicians and different instruments employed, but it’s got a similar overall feel, and mix of tracks. You’ll find more covers, like “Falling In Love Again” and even “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead,” more original compositions, like the Hoffman-penned sequel to “Total Eclipse,” entitled “After the Fall,” and even some more arias, like this stunning rendition of another work of Purcell’s. Referred to here as simply “Death,” it comes from Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas, and is sung by the titular Carthaginian queen, Dido, as she prepares to commit suicide. Also called “Dido’s Lament” or “Thy hand, Belinda,” its darkly descending melody is as captivatingly ominous today as it was when it was written, over three centuries ago.

Music: “Death”

Sadly, Nomi became gravely ill at around this time, and his own untimely death was just around the corner. He died of complications of AIDS in 1983, at the age of just 44, leaving behind an unfinished opera of his own creation, Za Bakdaz, which would go unreleased until 2008. That, and a posthumous live album released in 1986, would be the only other works under Nomi’s name. As with all artists who die tragically young, we will always be left wondering what else Klaus Nomi might’ve accomplished in the ensuing decades. I find it hard to imagine a timeline in which this sound ever became particularly mainstream, but anything else Nomi came up with would have undoubtedly been fascinating.

My favourite track on Nomi’s debut is “The Twist.” Yes, this is indeed Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” another one of those Midcentury covers that Nomi was so fond of. But compared to the rest of Nomi’s covers, this one is much more of a deconstruction, perhaps even a “piss take,” featuring a sparse instrumentation, centered around a lethargic bass guitar, and the overall pace is slowed to a crawl. Add in Nomi’s piercing vocals and some nearly demonic, chittering laughter, and you’ve got a track that turns a fun, light-hearted dance craze into a surreal nightmare. As difficult as it is to be the strangest track on an album like this, I have to give that honour to “The Twist.” That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “The Twist”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #klaus nomi #new wave

24 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

Κατακηλέω (νοσταλγία deleted scene)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Κατακηλέω: to charm, cast a spell over (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Narses/Reader but you know how that is

Summary: This is a deleted scene that happens between chapter 16 and 17, it centers mainly around Narses.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: The usual, plus a graphic depiction of burning alive (or my best attempt at writing it anyways)

A/N: Yeah idk what to say here lol, I put this together mainly bc @xbellaxcarolinax made a point of there being little Narses on the story, and bc she was interested in a chapter more centered around him. I write a lot of rambles that I don’t post cause I don’t think people wanna read ‘em, but here it is one of em, in deleted-scene form lol. Hope you like it, and thank you! <3

Also yes I have Michiel Huisman as Daario in my head as a faceclaim for Narses, idk what to tell ya, I suck at describing characters so of course you had no way of knowing that, and I’m sorry.

Taglist: (I’m sorry if you don’t wanna be tagged in these kind of chapters btw, just lemme know and I’ll keep you on the main story ones only, or just the main story and Ivar PoV ones, whatever works for you) @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson

“It scares you, doesn’t it?” Freydis starts suddenly one night, and you lift your eyes to her but don’t say anything. So, she continues, “The reminder of what you could do.”

“If you mean-…”

“You know what I mean. You could lie, and I keep wondering why you don’t.”

“Lying is what you would do, is it not?” You snap, head tilted to the side.

The blonde’s smile turns smug, as if she just made you give away a card. Instead of saying anything regarding that, she shrugs,

“You have traveled a lot, lived a lot,” She states, moving carefully and taking a seat next to you, seemingly choosing to ignore your eyes following her. “Will you tell me you are unaware of what men are able and willing to do for a woman’s love?

She stops whatever it is she was going to say next when an elderly woman enters the apothecary, her blue eyes following the woman’s moves. You are reminded of that night when she shared her thoughts by a window and was interrupted -eyes and ears follow the witch-, and realize why she holds her tongue.

Instead of waiting for the other woman to leave, she stands up and asks you to follow with but a gesture of her head.

Certain steps take you both to the same elevated patch of cold and foreign grass that saw you lay on your knees and pray to whatever Gods heard you to give you an answer.

And so, Freydis continues on,

“Look at all Ivar did to get you to be at his side. Imagine what he would do with the promise you could love him,” Manic blue eyes meet yours as Freydis stops you with a hand on your arm. You pointedly look down at it and back up at her face, feeling a tightness in your chest, dread mixed with disdain. “Imagine what he would do if you pretended to love him and threatened to take it away.”

There’s only one answer you can give her.

“Get your hand off me.”

If you were your mother, you’d have a sword in your hands and a snarl on your lips. But you never wanted to fight like a man, and so you only let the cold of this land seep into your voice and harden your expression, your voice.

She remains frozen for a few moments too long, and you once again pointedly look at her hand and back into her eyes.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” You state, and only then does she comply, her eyes searching yours. You return your arm to be comfortable covered by the warm cloak, and turn to keep walking. “I do not want to hear another word of this, you hear me? Not another damned word.”

“Does that mean you’ve given up? You’ll let him keep you here?”

“I said not another word.”

Freydis swallows whatever her words are to be next, and nods her head, accepting your order as if she thinks you gave her a choice.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Freydis speaks again.

“You choose to protect him now, is that it?”

Her dainty and delicate voice loses none of the edge and the certainty, even as her eyes betray something more human.

“You are a smart woman,” You concede instead of answering her questions, and tilt your head to the side, “But a smarter one would know when to hold her tongue.”

“You don’t hold yours.”

“I never claimed to be smart,” You reply easily, before bowing your head in goodbye. “Goodnight, Freydis.”

She knows it is a dismissal, and a rude one at that, but she only returns the gesture. You could swear a strange sort of pride shines in the girl’s dark blue eyes as she takes her leave.

____

And now you sit alone overlooking that same cliff and you cannot get her words out of your head. You wish you could hate her, berate her for her games and call her names, say she is nothing but a liar, a whore.

But it is not so simple, is it? You seduced a man into giving you his army, did it so well Freydis trusted you to seek Freyja’s favor and do the same with the King, knew you had what it took with only but a look at you.

You promised your love to Narses only for the faint possibility that he could drive the Byzantine Christians off your lands, that he could bend his army and his strength to your will and give you the kingdom you deserved.

And you did to Narses everything that Freydis would have done to Ivar. You kissed, lied, and promised yourself; for the sake of a game.

Because when all you are told you can be is a warm pair of legs to wrap around a man, a pretty little jewel for him to keep and parade around, a quiet and beautiful maiden to stand beneath who the Gods deem you belong to; you learn to play games, all women do.

You wrap your legs tight enough he begs for mercy trying to escape your spell, you show them how even jewels draw blood if squeezed too tight in a fool’s hand, you let beauty carry you near him and your voice be a whisper as it reaches his ear. You play games.

But, as you sit on the cold grass overlooking Kattegat’s horizon, the sea and the sky meeting far away and reminding you strikingly of dusks and dawns spent on that temple overlooking the ocean and awaiting for those ships; you think about how no women speak of what happens when the game ends.

Because it always ends. It is a world of change, after all, a world of wheels turning and of days and nights and of seasons unending. It goes on and on, and the world changes, the games end.

Maybe you don’t hear women speak of what happens when it ends because few survive it. Those that do, maybe, just like you, refuse to speak of it, refuse to give voice to the pain and the shame that comes after playing with a heart not your own.

Refuse to admit the regret.

“You’ll do it?” He asks, eyes shining, “You’ll be my wife?”

“I would love to marry you,” You lie, you lie, you lie; and it burns your heart, “But I don’t want to bring our children into a world that will push them into the dirt for the Gods they follow, Narses.”

And just like that, promises, vows, oaths, fall from his perfect lips like he cannot help it. And you believe him, because if you hold your breath and dive past the smoke into the memories of your past, you can recognize that the way Narses looks at you now is the same way your father used to look at your mother.

You remember Sieghild’s teachings about Freyja, about her ways of persuasion and seduction, and wonder if, even if you are foreign to her, the Goddess looks over you. You wonder if she would smile or frown at your games.

You fall down on the grass, keeping your hold on Narses’ hands to tug him down with you. Narses falls with a laugh, legs and arms holding him up above you, dark green eyes shining as they look down upon yours.

It is remarkably easy, to surrender to his kiss. You close your eyes, letting your fingers go up into his hair, and allowing your lips and tongue to dance with his.

When his impatient lips move down to your jaw, your neck; you let him, craning your head back so he can have more access to your skin. If you clear your mind, you can almost feel nothing but pleasure.

When you tug particularly hard on his hair as Narses bites at your collarbone, you feel a breathed laugh leave his nose.

Lifting himself up in strong arms on each side of your head, Narses looks down upon you. His words should not hurt like they do by now, as you are so familiar with them you know what they will be before he even opens his mouth.

He steals another quick kiss, and whispers, “I love you.”

As a lover, as his future wife.

You smile through the pain, and answer, “I love you.”

As a friend, as the protector of your people.

As an instrument of war.

You are reminded of the safety of Narses’ embrace, however suffocating; and you can almost taste your name on his lips, bloodied as they were the last time you saw him alive.

“You are in the Elysian Fields, I know,” You start telling the wind, hoping it can carry your words to him, “Or maybe these Varangians’ Gods are fighting with ours to take you with them to Valhalla. Either way, I hope you can hear my voice one last time, my friend.”

You laugh brokenly to yourself, lowering your gaze to the grass under your body, caressing the dark tresses of nature.

“I know I don’t make much sense, I-I never did to you. Ramblings about Fate and empires fallen and tales of Gods and heroes; things that you had no interest in hearing. And yet you still looked upon me like something…something out of a dream, Narses,” You tell him, pain clawing at your heart, reopening wounds you thought you closed long ago. You smile sadly still, and reminisce, “You used to tell me I was your dream, and…I wish I could tell you that you were mine, I truly do. But I can’t.”

And regret fills you, the useless and heartbreaking gift of hindsight showing you that the path you took led only to pain and war. Narses was sent by your choices, by your games, by your mistakes, to die; and you…you were sent here. To what?

You dare think not even the Gods have an answer to your present, or future. But you do have answers to your past, and if someone deserves to hear them, it is Narses, wherever he may be.

“Returning to Eleusis choked me with the smoke of all the fires lit before I left and during my time away. I…blinded myself with ambition and I thought the only way I could fight was through you,” You explain, honestly, brokenly, the only way you know how to, “I knew that if I had the heart of Thebes’ Strategus, I could get what I wanted. I just had to have enough guile, enough lies, enough poison; to trick you into giving me your heart.

You offer the wind a hollow chuckle, bitter and angry and oh so filled with regret you can feel your heart poisoned with it.

“And I did exactly that. Maybe Aphrodite and Peitho blessed my lies, maybe Sieghild was right and Freyja watched over me,” You look over Kattegat’s horizon, facing the truths of your past when you don’t know what you want out of your future, “Either way, I used you, I hated myself but I still did it and…I got what I wanted.

As the agony of the flames crawls over your legs, scorching your skin with the inferno, blinding your eyes with the smoke, flogging your throat with your screams; you turn your gaze to the sky, blackened and barren as it is, and plead the Gods you have fought and bled for to grant you a moment of mercy, a painless death.

And flesh being charred smells awful, making your poisoned lungs heave for unattainable retrieve. You hold a moment of clarity in your mind to beg for Sieghild’s forgiveness, that you left her in this world alone after she sacrificed so much for you. You hope her Gods let you visit her in Folkvangr.

With one last ragged and angry scream, you let your strength leave you, your agony leave you, your regrets leave you.

When you awaken you find yourself in too much pain to accept this is the Underworld. Before you open your eyes, a moment of panic and dread fills your heart at the thought that the Christians left you alive to torture you, but you hear familiar voices, smell familiar fragrances.

Sieghild’s hand over your forehead, gentle and loving in ways she rarely is, makes a small smile tug at your dried and bleeding lips.

“I know you are awake, open your eyes,” She chastises, gruff even when relief clogs her voice. You do, and her smiling inked face settles your quickly beating heart, makes you forget the pain for a moment. “I love you, you stubborn child.”

You allow yourself a smile, closing your eyes again and focusing on breathing for a few moments, before whispering, “I love you too, minn móðir.”

The shieldmaiden chuckles brokenly, pressing rough lips on the crown of your head. After a few moments of silence, she sighs.

“By the way, you mad woman, you did it.”

“Did what?” You ask raggedly, wincing as you lift your head to accept the cup of water she offers.

“Listen, little one,” She instructs, and when you do, you hear the rustling of armor plates, the heavy steps of soldiers outside your door. The Viking woman shakes her head in almost disbelief, “The Strategos, that boy, he saved you from the flames.”

“Narses?”

“His soldiers came with us, we have nearly a thousand men here.”

“I did so many things wrong, Narses. I lied and manipulated and pretended, and maybe because the Gods are cruel, or maybe because reaping what you sow is an empty promise; I succeeded, and I got what I wanted. I knew I wouldn’t win, not against the Empire, not against the Christians, but…I wanted them to remember me, to remember our names and our Gods and our ways. To remember we don’t die silently.

And even if it hurts, you admit to yourself that you would do it again. You wish you could have loved Narses the way he deserved, you wish you could have been honest, you wish you could have found other ways to fight for your kingdom; but…you understand why you did it, and feeble and useless as it is, you want to forgive yourself for it.

Where there is war there can never be love, right? And you wanted war, you will not lie to yourself and say you truly wanted peace all along.

No, you wanted to see those Christians that came to take your home bleed at your feet, you wanted Attica to be free again, and Laconia, and Macedonia, and Arcadia, and many others. And you would wage war for your freedom for a thousand years if needed.

You would promise Narses your hand again if it came to it. You know you would, because the person you were when Attica was yours…she would have done that and much more for a chance at freedom. Now, you know better. Now, you let yourself be softer. Now, the world is a lot bigger than it seemed back then.

Now, things are different. Maybe you are, maybe the world is, maybe your heart is. Maybe Ivar is.

You smile at the barren horizon that doesn’t seem so foreign and intimidating now, and whisper, “I could do it now, I know. I would end up dead when he knew the truth, that’s for certain, but the victory would be mine, our people’s, by the time Ivar could catch up with my lies. I could, Narses.

“We need Stithulf’s support. We will ally with him, and even if you scream and fight it is what will happen.”

But you are shaking your head before he even finishes speaking.

“As Anassa of Attica I ca-…”

“As the commander of your forces, as the man you’ll marry, I’m telling y-…”

The hostility, the command, in his tone startle you to attention, and you narrow your eyes as you step closer. You don’t reach his shoulder, but the years have taught you there’s few things a man fears more than a woman that refuses to fight like a man but still fights.

“If you try using that to silence me, I fear you will not live long as my husband.” The threat drips from your lips like wine, but Narses doesn’t cave for once, and he drags a hand over his face.

“You always fight me, why do you…why can’t you be…?” His words die in a sigh, and you lift your eyebrows.

“Why can’t I be someone I’m not? Would you love me if I were anything other than me?”

“Sometimes, I wish you were,” He sentences, a hand over his eyes as he grunts out the words. Your heart drops, and so does your guard. He sighs again, and a hand reaches up and cups your cheek, unaware your whole body tightens to a coil the moment he touches you. “Sometimes, I fool myself into thinking I still see the woman you once were in you. The woman that wanted a life surrounded by Eleusis’ warmth, the woman that cared not for war, for vengeance.”

You grit your teeth, and step back, closing your eyes tightly as you croak,

“That woman was never all I was. I wanted Eleusis, I still do, but that doesn’t mean I never wanted revenge, Narses. Those Christia-…”

When you feel he finally drops his hand from your cheek, you open your eyes and watch his hand clench into a fist.

“Why do I have to love a woman like you?” He hisses, turning his back to you and slamming both hands on the weak table in front of him. “I’ve asked the Gods why, you know. Why I have to love a woman arrogant and ambitious and…Hera help me, a woman that is not mine. Never was, never will be.”

“I-…What are you saying?”

“Do you think I’m enough of a fool to think I can make you my wife? If the Fates don’t stop me you will,” A humorless chuckle leaves his lips, “Lord Hades might split open the earth and drag you to the Underworld before I get to call you my wife.”

“Don’t say those things.”

“It is true! I was not Fated to have you, even if the Gods know I was Fated to love you,” He shakes his head, teeth gritted and eyes failing to meet yours, “We both know what made you say yes to me, and it is what is keeping you from saying yes to Stithulf. It was never love.”

Shame chokes you, keeps the next words form leaving your lips. Your lips tremble and your eyes cloud with tears as you look at his tense back, nothing but regrets shining in your eyes.

“Are you-…will you l-leave?”

Will you leave me? Is the question you dare not ask, because you do not have the right to believe he should want to stay at your side, not after everything.

You still don’t want him to leave you alone here.

But the Thebesian takes a deep breath, straightening his back again and turning to you. The same anguished softness you saw so many times in his eyes still shines in them now, and he shakes his head.

His voice when he replies feels like warmth, like safety and nostalgia,

“I will always be at your side. Until Hades summons you home, I’ll be at your side.”

You look into his warm eyes, and with shame still burning your chest, you ask,

“Why? The Gods know I do not deserve it. Why do you stay?”

The answer leaves his lips with the same certainty it always did, with the same hope and the same truth,

“I love you.”

You like to believe you would have loved Narses, you like to believe you would have been content remaining as Eleusis’ Priestess. You like to believe you could have birthed him children for you to teach the way of the Gods and he to give the fame of his family.

Problem is, you fear now, with the taste of this strange freedom still fresh and sweet on your tongue, you don’t think you could have ever lived with the binds of what Narses wanted to make out of you. A priestess, whose ambition is forgotten when he wills it so; a woman, whose eyes will need to lower from his; a wife, to be quietened when he speaks.

And you don’t want that, to be what Narses wanted you to, what Galla wanted you to, what Freydis wants you to, what Ivar wants you to. You want to be you, and you want to fight, and be compassionate and revengeful, and be soft and relentless, without needing to choose one or the other.

You want nights of stupid arguments and infuriating talks, you realize around a broken chuckle, you want foreign languages and even more foreign customs, you want…you want Ivar. In all his vitriol, in all his bloodthirst, in all his awkward gentleness and in all his armored heart, you want him.

Tears of regret and the path not taken fill your eyes, and you find yourself sobbing out a small laugh, “But the person that lied and tricked you, that could do the same to Ivar…she died amongst the flames, left me in her place, I think.

The Priestess is dead.

Taking the small knife Ivar gifted you what seems like a lifetime ago, you hold a lock of your hair in front of you, and cut off the wind-blown and tangled strands, holding a short tress in your hand that weights like a decade of apologies and promises made.

“I’m sorry. For everything I did and everything I didn’t do,” You promise him, closing your eyes and almost seeing his smiling face before you, his eyes shining and his sun-kissed skin weathered around a smile. “In another life, I may have loved you like you deserved.”

You open your palm, and let the strands of grief be carried off by Kattegat’s winds way across the sea.

And in another world, on another land, a dead man takes a breath.

____

So, hope you liked it, hope that last sentence got you wonderin’, and hope you have a nice day/night!

Thank you so much for reading, see you Tuesday with the scheduled update: chapter 18 :)

#ivar the boneless x reader #does this count tho #i guess so #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #νοσταλγία masterlist

41 notes · View notes

fmdkiana · 4 years ago

Text

*to the tune of backpack backpack from dora the explorer* plot time plot time plot time plot time Yeah. under the cut i have little blurbs on where my muses will be and ideas on threads, so come poke my dms (for tumblr ims i suggest messaging sung) or like/reply to this post and i’ll come around to u!

overall she’s the best muse for first time meetings bc company events like this are the main way to have a conversation with her

choice activities miss ki is doing the candlemaking class and dance class

ki likes making her own soaps and candles as is, so she’s the lucky one of my muses to have an activity just for funzies. she could perhaps teach ur muse a thing or two, or they could challenge themselves to try to make candles for each other

dance class could be practicing together, ki helping a non-dancer/someone unfamiliar in the style, even maybe scrutinizing the video together for the next take

other schedules:

the pool party isn’t one she would attend of her own volition, but definitely could be dragged into it if she likes a muse enough or is given reason to do so. could be fun to get her drunk, loosen her up a bit. or, yk, california, give her some weed and listen to her talk about her special interests for hours

surprisingly ki would show up at the food truck festival, at least for a little while. she tries to be careful about what she eats because her skin is sensitive to so much, but she’d be curious and, what she considers, impulsive. it’d also remind her a bit of home in seattle, the good parts, so she could share that with someone, maybe help someone navigate around too given her english-ing

the best way to bond with ki is through common interest, and either flight could be good for that! your muse or ki engaging in one of her interests and it sparking up a conversation could leave a good (or negative, if ur muse has opinions she Really can’t get behind) impression of them to her

jeonghwa

trying something new, stepping out of your comfort zone, doing something unapproved of by higher ups, all things u can count on jhwa for

choice activities this round are fan makeovers and secret fantasy concert

these activities don’t have much in the moment to thread on, but the spaces around the activities could be! pre-makeover making each other up, doing one another’s makeup and it becomes a cute thing to mention to the fans. maybe jeonghwa was being too distracting at the side of the stage during your muse’s set and they talk about it after. could be loads of things!

other schedules:

you knoooow she’s gotta go to the pool party. she’s probably the one spreading the news to everyone about the party in the first place. if anyone needs an extra kick to be able to come, or someone to help them make bad (see: fun) decisions, jeonghwa’s got u. and honestly if someone isn’t skinny dippin w her what’s the point of the party

random but she makes for a good flight partner. coming in or going, she could sit next to your muse and play games, make it less terrible to go thru for so long

one of the after concert meals jeonghwa would go bc free food and drinks, maybe she convinces your muse to “go to bed” early and they dip to explore, get into trouble, whatever

food truck festival eating contest when? jeonghwa getting dared by a friend to smash funnel cake in someone’s face and your muse is sadly the recipient?

andy

antisocial is in the name, BUT he’s feeling pretty good, if tired, so it’s not a terrible time to approach andy. though, depending on his mood, he could make for some more bitchy moments too

his choice activities are for an individual fansign and the softball team (go red)

fansign may not offer much in the moment, but afterwards, andy could have a little complain session about fans, or gasp, maybe he actually liked one of them

softball team... andy is a competitive motherfucker and is gonna Enjoy playing up the sporty angle. imagine hsm2 i don’t dance, same level of playful banter, same sexual tension, but also more aggressive, and you’ve got it. do i know what this means in terms of a plot? absolutely not but i know it’s so chock full

other schedules:

will andy be at the pool party? yes. but his lips will likely be preoccupied with copious weed and hwa the whole night so a muse might need to specifically seek him out or catch him on his way to the drinks

at the welcome brunch buffet can someone please argue with andy about brunch culture,,, he’s anti brunch :/ says it’s just an excuse for white women to get day drunk and they should just admit to it. all the while he’s pounding back mimosas

sung

sung thinks it is incredibly inappropriate for gsm to not only be pushing him, but the rest of the element members, into work schedules so soon after disbandment. sooo this is probably the most upset 99% of famed would have seen him in public. what shock

his choice activities are being a fashion show model and the busking trip

being a model upsets him, given he was already upset, but then tacks onto it feeling like gsm is valuing him highest for his looks at the moment. anyone who can make the experience less than the worst would b appreciated (or make it worse, talk exclusively abt his visuals, i’m down)

busking sung is actually much more into, but that’s largely because of how much he loves performing, with a side helping of appreciating the charity angle. performing is definitely a release for him, but who knows, he could possibly butt heads with someone too

other schedules:

at first glance, sung wouldn’t be very interested in going to the pool party, but he would only need a small nudge to go tbh bc what teeny part of him has capability for pettiness would want to do something gsm doesn’t approve of, And it would be him giving into utilizing whatever unhealthy coping mechanisms he wanted, just for one night. i’m sure he’d black out by end of night, and would make terrible decisions. encourage him? help him? all up for grabs

could be convinced to go to one of the after concert meals but would need the convincing since he’d rather lay in bed being a sadsack

#fmdcall #the third example for villas reminds me of that house in hannibal #the one where the dragon n will n hannibal n u KNOW what i mean #the shawol in me is also extremely happy sung gets to do a sherlock cover #i only started getting to kno ateez for quicksilver so idk them well but i am CONVINCED the sherlock cover is top 3 things theyve ever done #along with black cat nero cover (high production halloween version bc i much prefer the cleaner vocals)#and kingdom kraken performance #icb quicksilver's gonna peak pre-debut this is like element all over again :/#i also didnt wanna repeat myself a whole bunch but ofc anything surrounding the fantasy concerts themselves could work too!#these r just any specific ideas i had or moods i think r important to note #i...queued this...for the wrong day.......im so dumb lol

7 notes · View notes