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mlmxreader · 1 year ago

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Trust In Me | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

anonymous asked: Hey! Could I please request the following for Alfie Solomons X male!reader: "Tell him, tell him that I-"+"Y'know what? Nevermind"+"Never wanted anybody more than I wanted you" Just an idea, maybe they've known each other a while and reader is in love with Alfie but he doesn't think Alfie feels the same way and boy is he wrong! Thanks so much, seriously I appreciate it so much! 🐍anon

summary: you and Alfie have always trusted one another, more than willing to put your lives in each other's hands without needing to think about it. But maybe it's not just trust.

tws: swearing, mentions of war and violence, depictions of shellshock/trauma

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You never thought that Alfie would look at you the way that you looked at him; you didn't expect him to, either. Even if he was there when the war crept back in on you, holding onto you gently and trying to reassure you that the war was over. The treaty had been signed.

You never had to hear another shell or mortar.

You never had to take another boy's life.

He was there when you screamed and broke, able to see the greenish yellow gas slowly creep through the streets of Camden, desperate to scramble to higher ground and cover your mouth, nose and eyes. He was there when your hands shook and you wept, weeping for all the schoolboys that had joined the war; staring at your hands and wishing the blood would wash away.

Alfie was there, even in your worst times. He was always there. But he was also there for the good times, too. When you hummed marching songs as you cooked in the shared kitchen, he would sit at the table reading his papers and smiling to himself.

He was there when you would be making the beds and telling him all about some subject you had read about in a book; always listening so keenly and offering the odd grumble to let you know that he hadn't stopped listening. If there was any constant in your life, it was Alfie.

But you knew that a man like him would never want to be with a man like you.

After all, he had hired you to look after his office; you cleaned it, you organised documents and appointments, you ensured that the legal was separate from the illegal. You never batted an eye, and Alfie trusted you enough to handle the more sensitive documents and information.

Alfie would surely never look at you as anything more than a friend, perhaps a brother but definitely a comrade; you fought alongside one another often enough during the war to be sure of that much. Alfie trusted you.

Of course, two men living together in such close quarters was often frowned upon to say the least, but when it came to you and Alfie, it was different; they understood that you had certain reasons to keep close to someone who had been through the same things through the war.

Many soldiers lived together afterwards, when the shellshock got to them. It helped in certain cases, so people turned a blind eye.

Things were different than usual today, though.

Your breath was trembling and shallow, hardly able to breathe in and more than unable to breathe out; you crashed into Alfie, arms around him tightly as you buried your face against the side of his neck.

Confused, Alfie frowned as he clung onto you.

"You alright? Somethin' happen?"

You nodded. "They, they, they said I'd, I did, I didn't, I done something bad."

He clenched his jaw. "Who?"

You could only whimper as you fought for the comfort that only he could provide; Alfie's jaw loosened, and he licked his lips as he sighed heavily.

He had an idea of who it was already. The same pricks as always; they had come from Birmingham, answered to some cunt Alfie didn't care about too much.

They always tried to pick you apart to get under your skin; they were more than aware that you were Alfie's weakness. He growled under his breath, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright, I got you," he reassured. "I ain't gonna let 'em hurt you, don't worry."

He would make sure that they paid. He knew what they were doing.

Telling you about the blood on your hands that wouldn't wash off, the bite marks that lice had left on your skin, the scars from barbed wire and bayonets. Telling you that, by fighting in a war you never supported, you were somehow to blame for the bloodshed.

It wasn't your fault, Alfie knew that. You had to join, just as he did.

If you had not joined, you would have been branded cowards and forced into social exile; his business would have failed, you would have been out on the streets. You would have both starved to death.

"C'mere," he huffed, guiding you over to the living room and pulling you onto his lap once he had sat down. "I'm with you, I ain't leavin' you."

Alfie couldn't bear it. He never wanted to leave you alone as it was, he never wanted to be far from you; the nights when you cuddled into his side were always so warm and so gentle.

The sight of your smile made even the most burnt toast smell like rosemary.

The sound of your smile was better than any music he had ever heard. Alfie adored you, if he was honest, and to see you so shaken and so panicked was just… he hated it.

He blamed himself, more than anything.

"C'mon, sunshine," he murmured. "Tell Ole Alfie what's goin' on - in your own time, though, mind. I got all fuckin' year when it comes to you."

You were trembling. He knew the signs all too well.

Those cunts, those absolute bastards, had sank so low that they had forced you back to the war; they had tied you to a rock in No Man's Land and left you for dead.

His jaw clenched, and it took everything in him not to get Ollie to keep an eye on you so he could hunt them down himself; but you were more important.

You were always more important.

It didn't matter when or where you called, Alfie always answered. He always would.

"They told me to tell you," your words were slow, like there were razors in your throat that only dug in further against the flesh with each syllable, "they said to… tell him, tell him that I-"

"Y'know what? Nevermind about it," Alfie told you gently. "Don't worry about them cunts. I'm gonna do to 'em what you did for me in Verdun. So don't you fuckin' worry."

Shakily, you nodded. "Alfie…"

"You don't have to tell me you love me," he mumbled. "I already know. Figured out the day you fuckin' looked at me differently after we managed to get away from those fuckin' shells. I know. I know that."

"But I…"

"You thought I didn't return it?" Alfie tutted. "Mate, I've never wanted wanted anybody more than I wanted you… but I never fuckin' told you 'cause I never wanted you to fuckin' worry about more shit. You got enough on that plate of yours."

"Alfie listen to me," your voice broke as you sniffled. "I don't… we can't be together…"

"Why?"

"My head," you whispered. "Something's wrong in my head."

"So we'll see a doctor," Alfie told you. "I'll get you the fuckin' best there is, and we can work together, innit? Get you stable. Everythin' else can fuckin' wait. I'd wait for you for a thousand years if you asked me to."

"I don't want you to wait..."

"Well..." he let out a soft sigh. "Why don't we go see my mum for a few days? We can stay with her, see if bein' alone, just us, helps... and I know how much you fuckin' adore her cookin' in all."

You dared to crack a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he hummed, giving your leg a soft pat. "Go on, pack your bags. I'll ring her and tell her we're comin'."

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adiyo · 1 month ago

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🌱 Cultivating Gratitude & Joy in the Here and Now 🌱

There comes a time when being accountable for your own happiness becomes essential. Taking the time to understand your own traumas, habits, and attachment styles is what helps you grow and heal. And that process? It can be messy.

Growing up, I moved around constantly, which made me hyper-aware of reading the room—especially around adults. I learned (through childhood and my recent previous romantic relationship) that everything seemed to have a “double meaning.” Words felt like puzzles, actions became tests, and eventually, I became an over-thinker, a perfectionist, and a full-time analyzer. And if you know, you know how draining that can be.

But here’s the real shift that hit me recently: I’m done reading between the lines. I'm not a mind reader. Now, I take things at face value and meet people exactly where they’re at, reciprocating no more or less than what’s given. This simple act? It’s changing my life. I’m learning that time is precious, and no one owes me theirs. Every moment shared is a gift, and I want to savour it without expectation.

See, I used to have these huge expectations—not only of myself but of everyone around me. And when people didn’t live up to those images, I’d feel hurt or resentful. Now, I’m reframing that: people can’t let me down; only the versions I create of them can. And each day is a new page. I’m not the same person I was yesterday, and neither are they. That shift toward acceptance has given me space to enjoy the people in my life for who they are, right now.

So, here’s to practicing objectivity and relativity. 🌻

Objectivity is the practice of viewing situations, people, or information without bias, focusing on facts rather than personal feelings or opinions. It’s about seeing things as they are, without the influence of subjective emotions, assumptions, or expectations. Relativity acknowledges that perspectives, experiences, and values differ from person to person. It’s the understanding that context, relationships, and individual backgrounds shape how each person interprets a situation. It allows us to see things as they appear to others, embracing that there isn’t always a single “right” way to experience or respond to something.

Life feels lighter when you embrace the flow, when you release control over how others “should” behave, and instead focus on how their presence makes you feel.

I want joy, I want laughter, I want moments of real connection. Some people will be in our lives for a season, and that’s okay. It’s about knowing when the time shared feels fulfilling and when it doesn’t—and moving forward accordingly. Cultivating gratitude and joy, moment by moment, for ourselves, is where real happiness lives.

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poohsticksbridge · 1 year ago

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In the midst of a largely enjoyable season of Amazon Prime’s/Sony Pictures’ adaptation of The Wheel of Time series, delivered by an outstanding cast and crew all deserving of acclaim (and renewal for future seasons), I see a lot of people responding with annoyance or dismissal of viewers’ issues (‘nitpicks’/‘complaints’) with certain season 2 character arcs.

Permit me to explain where one dense & annoying complainer (i.e., yours truly) is coming from. Because Nynaeve’s S2 show arc is potentially triggering for anyone who has lived experience with pregnancy or child loss.

Despite putting this assertion out there, I have seen — and been directly subject — to a range of responses that range from patronizing to downright heartless. These include:

How can anyone (read: these idiots) NOT see the character development that’s being set up?

People who criticize don’t understand/lack empathy for trauma survivors.

Critics who are (over)reacting need to shut up and deal with their own unresolved trauma.

And the evergreen refrain: they’re just fictional characters. Get a life. 🙄

As someone who has lost multiple pregnancies, and supported loved ones through child loss, excuse me when I say: hold my mother’s milk in a fucking cup.

Nynaeve’s arc this season was especially difficult to watch and process because she was the only character who went through it without genuine support or a single onscreen ray of hope for resolution/closure. The fact this will probably come 18-24 months from now, does not ease the immediate pain.

Let me offer a hypothetical comparator: picture the reaction from Egwene stans & the fandom as a whole, if the season had ended on episode 5. I can only imagine how that might have gone down.

As hard as I found Nynaeve’s arc, I was inclined to process it privately — until these kinds of comments started to show up in other’s posts and threads. Because I find the toxic positivity, fanlier-than-thouism and callous dismissal of others’ feelings even more triggering than Nynaeve’s arc.

Why? That’s the question I’ve been asking myself, because I too generally find fandom drama tiring. Here’s what I realized:

Such responses are trivializing and isolating. Very much the way grieving parents (or almost parents) feel after their loss, because so few people are able to relate. (Despite the growing exploration/exploitation of pregnancy and child loss in ‘entertainment,’ there’s still a very real societal taboo when it comes to talking about RL experiences.)

If you find my criticism, posts and replies to comments about Nynaeve’s arc tiresome, offensive or otherwise upsetting, feel free to ignore/delete/block/move along. Or, by all means, respond thoughtfully. But don’t tell me I don’t see/understand what the writers are doing (I’m not an idiot). Don’t tell me I don’t understand/lack empathy for trauma survivors. Don’t tell me to cool down/get over it/get (more) therapy. Don’t tell me I need to get a life. (My rainbow kid keeps me plenty busy, thanks.) And don’t expect me to shut up about my criticisms of a cherished character’s unrelenting suffering, and how it has been portrayed as robbing her of her signature competence and common sense.

If you’re still reading, thank you very much for enduring my rant. May those with differing perspectives enjoy their S3 longing, while I busy myself with fix-it fanfics and gratuitous Laneave smut.

#PSB is on her high horse #flogging it into glue #yes even when people are suffering in real life #it’s okay to want to escape life’s hardships for a while #I’m just here to mash my favourite characters together #wheel of time #wot #nynaeve al'meara #lan mandragoran #lanaeve

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chthonic-cassandra · 2 years ago

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I’ve been considering writing fanfiction again after 5 years, but I’m quite nervous. Reading your Compromise series inspired me to get back into writing, but I’m worried about how the fans will react to the subject matter of abuse and complicated feelings in the gray zone between romantic and familial. How do you deal with the anxiety of people misinterpreting your writing?

First, I wanted to say how moved I am that reading something I wrote inspired you to return to writing! That touches me very deeply and I so appreciate you sharing it with me.

This is a good question, and I don't have an easy answer to it, but I do have some thoughts. I do want to distinguish between misinterpretation which is just readers having a different experience of a story than the one we've intended, and actual hurtful and judgmental responses - I think you're most talking about the latter, but I'm not sure.

As far as hurtful responses, I've honestly been pretty lucky with that, at least in comparison with a lot of other people I know here/in fandom. Part of it is that I do deliberately keep a pretty low profile in a number of ways - I write quietly in my tiny fandoms - and I take steps to insulate myself from judgmental responses, like not allowing anonymous asks. I've made a decision in the past several years to just straight up not engage in internet debate, and this has served me well. These choices aren't right for everyone, but the risk/reward calculation of them is very definitely right for me. (I was a little worried that the increased popularity of Dracula in the past year would make all of this harder, but insofar as drama has happened there I think I've stayed largely oblivious to it or at least out of the way.)

But that doesn't mean those kinds of responses never happen, or that I never have anxiety about them, with the kinds of things I write. What's helped is honestly getting to a place with myself where I can hold a lot of confidence in my own understanding of trauma and abuse, both generally and in my own life, that cannot fundamentally be shaken by others' responses. So someone commenting on one of my stories that I'm writing Mina as "weak" and "allowing herself to be defined by her assault" (real example, albeit from a while ago) can make me angry, but it doesn't make me spiral or question how I understand myself. (I can't say how I would hold up to really persistently cruel harassment like I know others have had to deal with, and I count myself as lucky that I haven't encountered that so far in my fandom experience.)

I know what I believe, and I know how I choose to ethically engage in the world, and people can think that my fic is weird or gross if they want and that doesn't change what I know to be true. It feels really good in a lot of ways to put my stories out in the world and to hear that people are impacted by them, and a big part of that does have to do with finding ways of communicating aspects of my own experience, but I also can't expect readers of my fic to give me that validation; I have to get it elsewhere.

As far as general misinterpretation without hurtful responses...I don't know, I think I just have to be okay with it, and at this point I don't consider there to be a correct interpretation of my fics really at all. I do (often) write about kinds of violence that come close to things I've experienced, but it's also really okay with me if people read those stories and their primary take away is finding them sexy. There are also ways in which I find those elements of my own experience sexy! (And horrific and terrifying and devastating and and and...) That's part of what I'm doing by writing about them, letting myself feel out all these edges and angles and sites of messiness. That's one of the reason to write hundreds of thousands of words of fic largely about sexual violence rather than writing a memoir.

With Compromise in particular, which you mentioned here (I'm glad you're enjoying it!), part of what has been so interesting for me about trying this slow, serialized format for a story about tangled webs of violence and attachment is seeing the range of different ways people react to it, the people who are angry at Jonathan and the people whose hearts are breaking for him, the people who are hoping for Jonathan and Mina to come back together and fight back and the people who have become most invested in the brides and their arc. I'm sure that there are people who find the whole premise distasteful and I hope they simply don't read it rather than telling me so, but alongside that there's this particular energy and interest in the expansive range of possible interpretation, and if you do choose to write and post fic again I hope that's something that you can enjoy.

This is a long-winded answer that maybe didn't get at your question! But your question made me think a lot - thank you for that.

#riverwife #on writing #my writing #trauma frameworks #compromise series

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thefirstknife · 3 years ago

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Some of the more interesting bits of today's reset and dialogues. I loved this from Mara. She acknowledges her participation in steering Uldren towards his downfall AND she realises that she will have to do better with him in the future. This is from the ending dialogue when you finish the exotic quest for the Ager's Scepter.

I want to mention something from the start of the week because I've seen people get angry (but when do they not when it comes to Mara?)

Long post under read more:

It's about the discussion she and Ikora have at the terminal. Hot take, but both Mara and Ikora are right and wrong in the argument. Transcript:

Mara: "How long have your Hidden been privy to Uldren's resurrection?" Ikora: "Long enough to watch over him in your absence." Mara: "And you didn't direct him home. Why?" Ikora: "There was a concern he'd pick up some old habits." Mara: "You know the Garden made him sick. Riven twisted his mind. Eris would have seen it. She is not so easily deceived by skin-deep tricks." Ikora: "It's true I made mistakes, out of an idea of justice... out of grief. Are you leveling this same scrutiny toward Petra? Wasn't she supposed to be watching his grave?" Mara: "Petra has paid her dues. The Vanguard murdered him and has yet to pay theirs." Ikora: "We both lost family. I am sorry for my part in yours, but... Crow has been treated --" Mara: "My brother is dead. He was exhumed; his body twisted into a caricature. You had your vengeance." Ikora: "Is that what you're after? Cayde... I still feel that grief like a stone caught in my chest. Some days, it's more pronounced than others. Vengeance didn't erode that grief." Mara: "Then tell me. Who am I to blame? Who sent him to Savathun's clutches? Who bludgeoned Uldren into a scared animal and drove him from his home?" Ikora: "You did, Mara. And those Guardians that hurt him, did so out of misguided anger. Don't make the same mistake. Don't make my mistake."

This is some heavy stuff and there's a lot going on. First, I like that Mara doesn't respond at the end. It's uncharacteristic for her. It shows that Ikora's words did something to her. This is evident in the exotic quest later which I've already put at the beginning of the post. She's had time to think and she's admitting the part she played.

I dislike some of Ikora's arguments a lot. First, "concern that he'd pick up some old habits" goes entirely against the Vanguard policy and belief that Guardians are new people. They were only concerned because of bias towards Uldren due to what he's done. And Crow knows this! He said so last week when he wondered why is he the only Guardian judged by his past life. No one else is subjected to the same way of thinking. This is the reason why Guardians aren't supposed to dig around their past lives. Obviously with Crow, there's no way for him to avoid it, but the argument that, if he knew, he'd just magically become Uldren (and not just base!Uldren, but murderer!Uldren who will... I don't know, go after Ikora and Zavala or the innocent people in the City?) really shows how much the Vanguard mistreated Crow.

I also dislike the move to Petra. As Mara says, Petra has paid her dues. She really has. Let's not forget that Uldren was not just some guy to her or just her Prince; he was her friend. She had to watch him spiral out of control due to things she couldn't help him with, she had to make the choice to put him away until Mara comes back and at the end she had to make the choice to kill him. This trauma has shaped her.

The Vanguard hasn't paid any dues. That's kinda the whole point of Mara's questioning. Ikora tries to explain that this was due to grief and losing family, but pray tell Ikora, has Mara not lost family too? Mara mentions this immediately as expected.

Ikora is however right to say that it was ultimately Mara's actions that led to the situation we're currently in. The Vanguard had no say in Awoken royal family affairs. Mara knows this, she said as much in the past few weeks and other lore in general: she spoke at length about the distance she pushed between them out of perceived necessity, the need to shape Uldren in a way to make him less like himself (since she disliked his recklessness and dangerous behaviours), but ultimately that only made things worse. She's aware that his venture into the Black Garden was fuelled by Uldren's need to prove himself. Ironically, in an effort to make him loyal and devoted, Mara pushed him into more recklessness instead of stopping it. She's aware of this. Asking Ikora "who am I to blame" was just waiting to be roasted.

But Mara is also right to ask about how the Vanguard treated both Uldren and Crow. How they washed their hands from killing him "officially" by hiding behind the Guardian, how nobody in the Tower answered for this. Their treatment of Crow as well: forcing him into hiding, isolating him. Excusing all the suffering he felt at the hands of the Guardians as "misguided anger." The torture he endured from Guardians just for showing his face was so much more than just "misguided anger" and Mara is right to feel heated and enraged when she talks about this and when she asks her questions. She expressed similar distaste and anger in a voice line with Glint in regards to how the Spider treated Crow.

I got an interesting dialogue at the end of my Shattered Realm run which also made me really irritated on behalf of both Crow and Mara when it comes to the Vanguard. Ikora asks Crow why didn't he send his latest report and Crow replies that he's had a lot going on and a lot to deal with. Which is true! He's not the Drifter who doesn't send reports out of spite; Crow genuinely wants to help but he's struggling with a lot of things that we can't even begin to unravel. He deserves patience and understanding. However, the following then ensues.

Ikora:

Crow:

Ikora:

This last part is a nice sentiment. But excuse me. Crow has literally been resurrected, isolated, tortured, enslaved and then "rescued" only to be thrust into a cage in the Tower and given "responsibilities." He is not obliged to be the Vanguard's errand boy. It's honestly quite rude from Ikora to tell him that he has to take his responsibilities seriously. The man hasn't lived a single day in his life without anxiety over whether he'll be tortured to death in the street if he shows his face.

I know the Vanguard gave him protection from the Spider and stuff to do (which he enjoys) and accepted him into their ranks. That's all good. But there's very little empathy here that acknowledges the life he's lived. Crow deserves to experience things that aren't isolation, imprisonment and following orders.

And most of all, he deserves to know the truth. Something the Vanguard has denied him for almost a year now. I know Savathun's schemes were involved and specifically, they were involved through impersonating Osiris which made a lot of people turn a blind eye. But now that this is known?

Crow can't share his burdens without knowing the truth. That's the whole problem. Everybody, except him, knows who he was. Everyone looks at him and treats him through that lens. He can't unburden himself without being told half-truths and being denied information. His burdens exist precisely because he doesn't know while everyone else does. So while the sentiment is nice, it reads more like a "that sucks buddy" than a genuine offer to help him with what is really bothering him.

On the other hand, obviously sharing the truth is difficult. His past life is more complicated than for most other Guardians. He's been through things that other Guardians haven't. The situation is complex on every single level and every character has a reason for the choices they've made.

Sometimes those choices are wrong and they are mistakes. And Mara isn't the only one who made the wrong choices and mistakes, consciously and unconsciously. It's a disservice to the complexity of the situation, Ikora, the Vanguard and Uldren to boil everything down to "Mara bad." Doesn't make for a compelling story.

That's what I wanted to address in detail because on the surface, it's easy to just dismiss either of the character you dislike more. And that's just reducing the story to a spectrum of black and white that Destiny really, ironically, isn't about.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #season of the lost spoilers #mara #crow #uldren #ikora #lore vibing #long post #that was such a great interaction between mara and ikora #i hate seeing it boiled down to 'mara bad. got told off by ikora. yas queen.'#ikora is also a complicated character driven by strong emotions and opinions #don't reduce her to a simplistic image of ikora that people generally have #it's honestly a huge disservice to her

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metvmorqhoses · 4 years ago

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I understand you like villains, but the Darkling is a manipulative and abusive person who doesn't care about Alina. He only wants to use and enslave her. Even the small nice things he does are manipulation. Their ship isn't healthy. Alina belongs with Mal.

look, the darkling is a thousands of years old ethereal being who almost completely lost any form of attachment to his humanity, being completely lost in the rivers of time and of his own devouring power, with the sole exception of a loosely defined sense of patriotism (which is filtered by altered, almost god-like morals that cannot be understood nor can apply to normal human beings), and his recognition in alina of his only equal mate, his only place of belonging in endless oceans of solitude, recognition that deeply unsettles and enrages him at first (after all she is an oblivious child and he an ancient superhuman), but that he’s too mature and intelligent not to accept and respect in earnest in his own way.

so, saying that he doesn’t care about alina and that he’s only there to play with a naive girl’s head to obtain her power, is nothing but sheer oversimplification and lack of understanding of his character.

of course he constantly manipulates her, he’d manipulate reality itself given the chance, that’s the way he navigates the world, through power, coldness and charisma. i think it’s quite obvious he thinks best being in control of everything important, he is the one having the bigger picture after all, he’s everything he has ever had since remote times, he’s been alone in his godly point of view for thousands of years, it’s only natural he thinks his agenda and opinions superior to those of a bunch of children (the king himself to him is but a child). in his eyes, he is the centuries-old man and she is but a precious little girl in whose hands the very reason of his every battle and hope is being placed by fate. his succeeding in having her power by his side is capital for him, after all his ambition and distance from humanity is endless, and so is his desperation. that’s why he opts for the most effective way to ensure having it (putting the collar on her, being sure to be in control and not subjected to the whims of a teenager). honestly, from his point of view, this is simply mere logic and effectiveness, nothing particularly evil or personal. let’s not forget he was hoping all along she would join him willingly.

yet, leaving aside the political agenda, the very fact that he does take the time to “manipulate” alina, that he cares enough to spend himself, the detached uncaring god, to try his best to be liked by her, to be admired and somehow understood by her, even to confess himself in his own subtle way full of half-truths, is the proof that he does care for the person behind the power he so much craves. there’s literally no pragmatic reason to charm someone you already have de facto captive in your own guarded palace and that you plan to enslave, if you don’t somehow crave her attachment. she fashinates him, she unsettles him. she reminds him of who he used to be. what we perceive as manipulation is his immoral and very wrong way of caring. he probably believes she would never love the real him, he probably thinks she would flee screaming. and, honestly, he wasn’t that wrong after all.

yet he craves and he tries to touch this light from his abyss of darkness, he’s anything but cold indifference. his manipulation probably wants to have many different effects on alina, that don’t necessarily exclude one another. one simple act of manipulation can have the aim to secure her trust in order to claim her power more easily and can at the same time aim to make her simply smile. these two facts can peacefully coexist in such a man’s mind. the first doesn’t make the second less real or important.

asking mal for her favorite flowers and then giving them to her himself can be a way of charming her and can be a way to literally give her her favorite flowers. It’s undoubtedly a petty move, yet very effective and even somehow funny if we shed the very popular woke indignation. it’s something very childish and very human to do. this is not so much political scheming as it is kindergarten rivalry, if we are honest with ourselves. in the darkling’s mind, the end always justifies the means and the evil plan behind giving alina her favorite flowers stealing the information from her sweetheart or reading their letters, is being able to get to her heart in the easiest way possible, disregarding every rule because he thinks himself above them all.

i’m honestly astonished adults don’t seem able to understand that the darkling wanting alina’s power and aiming to be in control of it, having his way in everything, and the darkling loving her are not only compatible truths but also in many ways codependent ones.

and how lame constantly labeling every unusual relationship “unhealthy” as if that would immediately rule out their right to beauty or complexity. especially in fiction, adults should have the right, the agency, to have their disgustingly unhealthy relationships in peace, without moralists constantly trying to diminish what they share because of it. the majority of fascinating things in art and in life are unhealthy. grow up. the women in these relationships are not fragile little flowers, they can deal with abysmality, they can even enjoy it. you are taking their choice and their own complexities away from them.

and really, in this very case don’t even have me started with mal. his love confession at the end of shadow and bone was cringe-worthy. “now i see you, alina”. like literally this boy fucked everyone that moved but alina, who lived for him and who clearly needed help because she was literally rotting away, and yet he didn’t even know she existed until she became important and famous, then proceeding to shame her for it in the little palace, only in the end to confirm his shallowness by saying “now that you are basically a goddess personified i see you”, and she is even supposed to deeply appreciate that? seriously? is this the healthy love you want women to lower their heads to? not to mention the only thing that keeps that love barely lukewarm is alina’s childhood trauma and obsessive attachment to the only person who was with her during those hard times. what a fairy tale.

in short, nothing wrong in having banal points of view, to each their own i suppose, but i’d appreciate if you’d avoid coming in other people’s inboxes acting like the moral artistic police when you clearly even lack the means to do it. thank you.

#shadow and bone #the grisha trilogy #the darkling #darklina #books #anon #one and one thousands stories lis told #villains

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0aurelion-sol0 · 3 years ago

Note

Yo~

What's your opinion on the Will Byers DID theory? If you like it, which version do you like better? Both interpretations seem cool to me, though I personally like strangertheory's version better ^.^

Hi!

That's a very interesting question. I want to start by saying that I am a singlet, so I don't have DiD or OSDD. My knowledge of this condition is primarly known through medias I consume or some more "advanced" psychiatric documents or researches.

DiD is a condition that hasn't been always best represented or accurately represented since this condition varies from people who have it and so while there are similarities, the experience of it is very much unique and personal. It is also something that in a fictional setting with different genres, themes and tones is very hard to pull off or represent unless you go for the very realistic take on it.

It is bound to be, like many other things in fiction, dramatized. And speaking from a singlet perspective, who also had particular problems represented in fiction, I think it's okay as long as it's done right, in the setting, tone and genre it is in.

For example, we have today a lot more LGBTQ+ representation and like everything, unless you go for the fully realistic route, it's going to be simplified and dramatized. There's so many gender identities and sexual orientations today, you have to simplify it. And that goes for many other things that people care about in media, it has to be done right, but the writers still have a story to tell and unless that subject is the focus of the story, they're not gonna always spend their time talking about that. There is a story to tell.

Secondly, if it is the main focus of the story, that is where people have to do their research and really represent what they are talking about. Not some half-baked representation with dull arguments and points that come from a capitalist and conservative worldview. (Looking at you Disney.)

Now what you are referencing are @strangertheory 's and @kaypeace21 's theories which are about the show being about a DiD system where we see different alters evolving in said story with the host being Will Byers.

There is a lot of evidence pointing towards it, I'm gonna let you go see their posts and read it.

But their theories are very different in the way that they see the show portraying DiD, I have actually find quite a great way to describe the two takes.

@kaypeace21 's take is that elements of the DiD system have been externalised through science-"fictional" or supernatural means. Similar to Legion from the Marvel universe.

(David is a powerful mutant with DiD where each alters, if I remember correctly, has a different power or powers. (Which to this day is still one of the most BADASS thing I have ever come across though it must be quite terrifying for David.))

@strangertheory is an internalised POV on the DiD system existing in the show. She believes that what we are seeing right now is what is exclusively happening INSIDE the DiD system and that what we are experiencing is not our standard definition of the "real world". As in the physical world we all know. This would be in very vulgar terms happening inside Will's self, head, mind or brain. In a sense, it would be a more accurate representation of what DiD is about. A Shyamalan twist if you prefer.

(Though right now I don't have any word for word examples of such take, there is a show called MR.ROBOT that fits a bit of this description since there are moments in the show that we are seeing are only happening in the DiD system itself.

I recommend this show A LOT. It still is a bit dramatized but from what I know the DiD representation is quite accurate and pleased a lot of people with DiD. Also some people on the Stranger Things crew worked on that show.)

Now do I love the DiD theory ?

Heck yeah, I fucking love it! And with a big L! (Am I right "The First I love you?").

And I Love both of the takes and I think each one works at explaining the mysteries of this story. I even think that in some ways both could work well together.

I believe that DiD can be, without the meaning of being used, like many things a powerful storytelling "device" since it is connected to so many themes and other writing tools and is linked literally to the psyche, emotions and personalities of the characters.

I can understand why some people like both or one or respectfully and logically dislike both or one of the takes. But it is close to my belief about what the show is about or were even before I came into this fandom or on the internet, not as complex and thought out as the theory itself but pretty close in the overall themes and aspects of it.

(Though it bewilders me how much people lack imagination or are scared of such twist when I have seen so many of those types before whether it's done well or not, accurate or not.)

Now both @strangertheory and @kaypeace21 are intelligent people with very nuanced takes. And they had their fair share of completely unjust controversies coming from either rabbid ignorant shippers, far too sensible people or downright ignorant stupid people, most of the time 16 year olds. I am not saying that they are perfect, no one is, but the hate they have received is completely unjust.

And I am gonna lay it down right here, they are begging for an accurate representation here, they are not doing this because it just sounds cool and is edgy, they are actually wanting that The Duffers pull this off well. They would be very mad if they use all the imagery just to make it look cooler or scarier.

They are not bringer of truths, they are just like us. They are theorists, they believe in something that they think can explain the story they love and are experiencing. And so far, they have a pretty damn good track record.

They are analysing, dissecting the show because it's what they want to do and they believe in it and they believe the Duffers wants them to do that (I mean how come no one believes it when watching a show like that set in the 80's with so many references ?).

It is also supposed to be fun. Have fun for God's Sake! You can disagree with it but calling names and being disrespectful because somehow they don't agree with very basic, lazy and cliché theories (and no it's not being hypocrite, a lot of people barely do the work.) or are not on board with your creepy projection over the characters IS not okay.

And no, they aren't supporting p*d*philia as some people have claimed. How can you read these theories and come up to that conclusion ?

Most people haven't even read the DiD theory or have gone all the way through with it because they are lazy, easily bored people who don't have the time to just relax, process and think.

Stranger Things is not a kids show, some dumb teenage romance drama show with cool monsters! It's a very mature show, with real problems that are treated, out of which is trauma and mental health. Kids are killing people and even dying on this show. There is sexism, racism, abuse both physical and psychological.

It is a very mature and dark show. And you are being disrespectful to the Duffers when you say they are not that smart or that isn't that important. They are putting a lot of thoughts into this and the fact that no one really recognises this annoys me.

Or people only think it's important when it is only about the things they enjoy in the show. (Which is more hypocrite to me.) OR people are very stupid if they truly think that or are just jealous, bitter that two women have more imagination together and individualy than all of them or that person alone.

Color and costume choices, subtext, context, camera angles, directing, VFX, music, editing, sets, props, script, acting and editing are very important. All must be carefully done or you get very bad or generic stuff if you don't. If you love and you are passionate about the work, you put all the details you can into it.

And the Duffers and all the people working with them have already referenced those sort of things AND the practice of what we do on the internet. They are aware, they know because they have been in the same place too. They grew up with stories too, they made theories too whether it's on the internet or not.

At the end of the day, it is just a theory. An explanation of what is unfolding, may unfold or may have unfolded. I believe in it, I think it is reasonable, it has logic and it makes sense. It also has a lots of elements backing it up.

And the Duffers don't even have to go with DiD or mention it. Will creating some of the characters and supernatural events from his trauma is also similar and more accessible to the masses. But a Shyamalan twist can also work if it is done well.

And I am also open to other possibilities and theories, if they make sense and have enough elements IN THE SHOW and everything connected to it backing it up.

If the Duffers write something completely different but it is as good and also explains even better than this theory than I'll be okay. I love being wrong, it makes me learn new things and enhances the way I approach stories in the future.

If the Duffers only used this as some very inaccurate and disrespectful scary/abstract subtext without commiting to it. That is where I will have a problem.

Or write something completely incoherent with the rest of the show with a bad plot twist catering to the main public masses to sell the story even more and just make money so that they are safe with a fallacy of a work of fiction. Because they are cowards who didn't know how to manage themselves and baited entire audiences or listened to some crappy executive who didn't understand shit about the story. (wink wink, looking at a certain something...)

So yeah, I do love the DiD theory and both of it's takes and if it happens and is done right, with of course my perspective on the thing and PRIMARLY the perspective of people who have DiD or know a lot about it, I'll be pleased with it and I think it could be something very important for stories, people, the world and "art" in general.

Thank you for the question it was really fun! I hope I described the theory and the condition in the right way @kaypeace21 and @strangertheory and also the people who are concerned or know about it if I didn't let me know. Also, if you disagree with what I said, the way I said it or the subject itself let me also know IF it's respectful of course.

#stranger asks things #stranger asks #did theory #the did theory #will byers #will the wise #willel #stranger things

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 09 first part

(Masterpost) (More Canary Funsies)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode features so many eternal minutes of zombie shambling that I thought I could fit everything into a single post. HA HA HA HA nope.

Zombie Temple

The trio do their best to fend off the not-zombies in the temple. Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian that he can’t go carving them up because they’re not actually dead, and drops a callback to their very first meeting at the gate of Cloud Recesses, when Wei Wuxian caught his attention with his pillowy lips comment on the not-dead cultivator.

Lan Wangji: You said it in that golden moment that will be seared into my memory for eternity, where I heard your voice and laid eyes on your angelic face and lost my heart forever, remember? Come on, babe, it was our very first zombie! How baked were you?

Wei Wuxian: I jerk off to the sword-fighting memory, not the zombie memory, you weirdo.

Nie Huaisang’s fear of the definitely not undead has apparently gotten him the rest of the way over his fear of Lan Wangji, because he’s now yelling “Lan-Xiong!” right along with “Wei-Xiong!” as he struggles. Note that although he later mentions that his fan is made of some fancy metal, we don’t see any evidence that he wants to fight with a fan any more than he does with a blade. I don’t hate anyone’s fan-fighting NHS headcanon, but my take is that he just isn’t a physical fighter, and that’s ok.

This is a good time to remember that our entire experience of the Nie clan so far in this story is 1. Clever but hopelessly combat-unready tiny artiste Nie Huaisang 2. Quietly helpful, absurdly pretty sidekick Meng Yao.

We don’t know yet that Nie Huasang’s gege and Meng Yao’s sugar daddy is literally the toughest motherfucker in the entire cultivation world. But his friends do! Which makes me love these dynamics even more, because not one of them criticizes Nie Huaisang for being the person he is.

(more after the cut!)

Never Let Me Go

This scene is where Wei Wuxian gives his tacit consent to being used as the eventual agent of Nie Huaisang’s vengeance....ok not really.

But he does make it clear what Nie Huaisang should do when he’s in a pickle. And NHS doesn’t forget things.

Priorities

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji isn’t nearly as patient as Wei Wuxian, and he drops a silence spell on Nie Huaisang basically out of annoyance. It’s not like they’re trying to be sneaky.

Lan Wangji: How about you have an exquisitely crafted ceramic cup of shut the fuck up?

Flute Girl

Wen Qing comes to the rescue by summoning all of the not-zombies, who happen to be her extended family, to come toast some marshmallows.

She’s another person who unwisely demonstrates, where Wei Wuxian can hear her, the power of flutes over zombies.

This move doesn’t seem to do anything important but it looks cool.

Brother Dynamic: Bad. Really Bad.

Jiang Cheng shows up in the temple and trolls everyone, because this is a great time for childish antics. Wei Wuxian is super happy to see him and runs over to hug him, which earns him a shoulder slam.

This is a regular part of their body language with each other. Wei Wuxian covers his hurt reaction very, very quickly, with a smile that doesn’t involve very much of his face.

Wei Wuxian is so good at pretending his feelings aren’t hurt, he probably convinces himself.

Then he gives a too-honest answer when Jiang Cheng accuses him of...daring to enjoy himself, basically.

That’s more truth than Jiang Cheng was looking for, and he raises a hand to Wei Wuxian, who hides behind Nie Huaisang. This move is interesting because on one level it’s just clowning; obviously Nie Huaisang can’t protect WWX from anything, and WWX doesn’t need protection from Jiang Cheng.

WWX can easily beat JC in a fight, as he’s let us know before. On another level, this retreat signals WWX’s harmlessness, his childlike-ness, in a semiotic dance that has been playing out for over a decade between the brothers. NHS is taking on Jiang Yanli’s role in the choreography, this time.

All of this troubling hostility doesn’t make Jiang Cheng a bad person. He’s young and he’s still under his parents’ control and subject to their abuse at home. It takes time to develop mindfulness about this stuff and learn to treat people beneath you differently than the way you are treated.

Jiang Cheng isn’t ready for that yet, any more than he is ready to say out loud that he cares about his brother.

Leave My Boyfriend Out of It

This interaction is noteworthy for Wei Wuxian defending Lan Wangji to his brother, before Jiang Cheng even has a chance to blame Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian says that following Lan Wangji was his own idea, and then gives LWJ the sweetest, warmest smile.

Lan Wangji also gets a pair of totally unearned, delighted smiles of thanks from his two besties when he lifts the silence spell on Nie Huaisang.

Being mildly dickish all the time works out fine, I guess, if you only make friends with people whose brothers are legendary grouches.

Grilling Wen Qing

Wei Wuxian finally decides he’s had enough of Wen Qing’s crap, and gets slightly aggressive in questioning her.

He’s not actually roughing her up but he is approaching her as a near-enemy for the first time, rather than as someone who wants to be her friend. Once Wen Qing tells him what’s up and agrees to a sort of temporary alliance, he goes back to being his normal slightly awkward self with her.

I don’t romance-ship WQ and WWX, except maybe as corpse-mountain era FWB, but I do like their chemistry. And their friendship is really refreshing and interesting, based on sharing goals and working together, not on emotional intimacy. It’s nice to see people with a lot of barriers around their hearts, building a strong, trusting bond without having to actually open up very much.

The idea of perfect sharing between people is a nice one, but it’s pretty alien to many of us who are recovering from trauma, or people who just aren’t wired that way, and it’s good to see other models of friendship and love.

Wei Wuxian, at Lan Wangji’s direction, parts the Red Sea drops a cage on the other 3 cultivators before going to hunt the dire birdy.

Jiang Chang is, predictably, pissed off about it, in spite of Wei Wuxian’s “you’re good at this” parting words, and says, according to the subtitles, “you bastard!”

“Bastard” is a pretty specific epithet, in English. In the current century, it’s generally used to mean “asshole,” more or less. But it still does carry the meaning “of illegitimate birth,” and since The Untamed is often concerned with legitimacy it seems pretty strong for JC to use with someone who is rumored to be his own Dad’s by-blow.

Let’s have a look and see what he really is calling him... 你混蛋 = Nǐ húndàn = “you bastard” per Google translate. Wow, Jiang Cheng, you really went there, huh.

Wen Granny

Wen Qing and the others in the golden cage watch as the not-zombies try half-heartedly to get to them. Wen Qing is super sad about it, as opposed to the two guys who are just annoyed (Jiang Cheng) or scared (Nie Huaisang).

The first time I saw this, it was just - oh, Wen Qing sympathizes with this poor random woman, she feels bad about what's happening, this is to show us she has a heart.

Now though -- that's HER granny. Maybe not her bio-grandma but clearly a granny of her clan, who she knows well, who later cares for A-Yuan when he's a child, so may very well have cared for A-Qing and A-Ning when they were small, too. Owie.

Dire Bird Hunting

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run off to hunt the smoke bird together. They are quickly trapped in cool-looking fog. Kudos to the Director of Photography.

They spend some time being confused and also being peak Wangxian 1.0 as they help each other out.

Lost in the fog and unable to summon talismans, Wei Wuxian is mainly about checking on Lan Wangji, making sure he’s ok, making sure he’s near. He doesn’t spare any worry for himself.

(We get a rare instance of seeing an actually glowing sword here, instead of just having a character say “I saw the beams of swords!” to save money on VFX.)

Lan Wangji, meanwhile, understands the mental attack they are under, explains it to Wei Wuxian with only a little snark about Wei Wuxian’s overly busy mind, and teaches him how to handle it.

Lan Wangji is super disciplined in mind, body, and sword - his fight moves don’t change, really, throughout his life, but he gets better and better at execution. Wei Wuxian isn’t exactly undisciplined, but he’s super creative and busts out a new skill in nearly every encounter. Lan Wangji sees this and is learning to make use of it.

After Lan Wangji helps Wei Wuxian overcome the confusion that is blocking his talisman use, he tells him which talisman to use.

This isn’t a talisman that LWJ uses himself, it’s just that he’s paying very close attention to WWX’s battle moves, and has a great memory, so he knows which ones will work. In a pretty short timespan he’s moved from thinking like a solo swordsman to thinking as part of a team with a broad range of battle skills. Very soon, he’ll be starting to use Wei Wuxian’s talismans himself.

WWX takes a hit from the flying death chain, but uses it to his advantage, as in so many encounters. He’s not just self-sacrificing--he is definitely that--but he’s also a chess player, knowing how to use a sacrifice or an injury to his advantage. Cue Lan Wangji being worried for the entire rest of his life.

Part Two is here!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #chen qing ling #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wen qing

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delu-jean · 3 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Jean x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 4.7k

Notes: Sorry for updating a lot later than expected! Here’s chapter eleven, and twelve will be out as soon as I write it. Hope you enjoy!

Ⅹ > Ⅻ

During the night, you had no dreams or nightmares. It was simply peaceful, calming, and warm. Having him beside you (though he was on the floor) gave you the utmost comfort. He was really here with you, resting to the side, while you did the same. Such a feeling that was yearned for, had finally found its way back to you. The first night in what seemed like forever where you actually slept through calmly.

You woke up the next day to see the sun peer in. Through the crack of your blinds, highlighting the walls of your cozy room. The birds, though silent, remained present as the wind rustled quietly. Jean lay on the floor. His hand still clung onto yours from the night before. His grip felt secure and gentle when holding yours. His hair laced over the pillows, as his body was barely covered by the sheets. Only now did you realize how much of a mover he was. Though that was the case, he still miraculously held you through the night. Without causing any discomfort whatsoever.

You wanted to sit in this moment for a tad longer, but knew you would have to ready you both for the day ahead. You tried to slip out of his hand, but to your failed attempt, he gripped even tighter. He really wasn’t going to make this easy. You tried yet again, using your other hand to assist. Regardless, his one hand and few fingers kept you grounded. You thought that was the end of things, but he then pulled you in. Locking you in a tight embrace. You shook your head, both flustered and disappointed. You needed to get away from him, yet here he was, keeping you captive.

“Jean...Jean I need to get up-”

“Not again...no...never,” he mumbled.

It seemed as if he was sleep talking. If he was conscious, he probably would’ve laughed at you by now. You were sad to hear such words. He had gone through so much trauma to the point he couldn’t let go of you.

“I’m not leaving...not yet at least...so Jean, don’t worry and please let me go,” you cupped his cheek as it sank into your touch. His head now leaning towards you, and his face at a closer range. Smiling at the reaction, you then heard a knock coming from outside.

“Hm...I have to go now,” he seemed less tense than earlier. It must’ve been because of your words since he actually let you go. You got up, put yourself in a cardigan, and quickly tied your hair. Maybe this time it was actually Reiner, for goodness sake you would now need to leave a candle there. Just in case next time, it’s a crazy psycho and not Jean.

You opened the door, ready to attack if it was anyone threatening. Though hesitant, you let your guard down, opening the door even wider.

“Ah Y/n! Long time no see,” you stared at the woman, flowers in one hand, while treats in the other.

“Alexandra, what are you doing here?” you smiled shocked.

Alexandra was also a person from the military. An Eldian soldier who commanded her own squad. Though your rank was a tad higher than her’s, she was never too far from you. You both conversed here and there. Though you weren’t as close to her as you were with the warrior unit, you were both mutually acquainted. Enjoying each other’s company from time to time.

“I just came to drop by. If you’re busy, I can come sometime later today,” you didn’t want to be rude and reject her. Even though Jean was over, you assumed that if he had heard someone else (other than you) in the house, that he would keep quiet.

“No no no, I insist. Come in, I’m free,” you led her inside for her to then place the gifts on the table. Now that you thought about it, this was the second time she had been to your house. That being said, you were surprised she still had this place memorized. Not only that, but you were surprised she had come out of the blue. Did she have something important to share, what drove her to come?

“Curious are we?” she laughed as your eyes widened, embarrassed.

“Of course not-”

“Haha, you’re not a very good liar Y/n~”

“I guess you’re right about that,” you grinned as you started to prepare tea. She was just such a lady, and plus, tea complimented any situation. So why not make some now?

“Hm lovely. Earl Grey if I’m correct?”

“Haha, yes you are,” you then placed a cup down. Pouring the tea as she patiently waited. Crossing her legs and setting the treats she brought across the table.

“I’m sorry I’ve come so early in the morning, it’s just that my squad is going to be shipped out sometime tomorrow...so I wanted to say my goodbyes before then.”

“What do you mean? I know you’ll come back,” you smiled as she followed hesitantly.

“Yeah...of course I will,” you then set the teapot down, as she took a sip.

“Hey so...I heard that someone might be getting married,” you start to drink your tea, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Who?”

“Who else but you,” you choked on the beverage, wondering as to how she would know such a thing. You then tried to play things cool, hoping the subject would slowly avert.

“I’m still not understanding?-”

“You and Reiner silly. It’s been going around everywhere...didn’t you know?”

“No...I...I didn’t know that others knew?...”

“Ahh I see. Well, from what I know, the town seems content with such a proposal. The ladies have been talking about what kind of future you both might have, even with the limited time. Not only that, but Reiner’s mother seems ecstatic with both the arrangements, and attention being given,” you then bite down on your tongue. Never would you have thought things would escalate so quickly. Rumors that weren’t even confirmed, yet spread like wildfire. She then placed her cup down, grabbing one of the deserts to munch, and then covered her mouth. She spoke, trying to keep her manners while also enjoying the treat.

“So, have you prepared a wedding dress, did he give you a ring yet, or are you both going to wait for the day of?”

“No...I haven’t been given a ring, nor have I gotten anything.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah…”

“Hm...well okay. Let me ask you a different question.”

“Of course, whenever you’re ready,” she then finished, and took a sip. Eyeing you as you sat uncomfortable, not sure what her next approach would be.

“You do like him, don’t you?”

“Um...well...I...I would say-”

“You know, I’ve always thought the both of you were...how do I say it, cute. Very cute actually.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you laughed a little, thinking she was being sarcastic. Whereas she was being quite serious.

“You two have always seemed so close. You both respect each other, take the time to have one on ones, you also put in the effort to see each other’s families, and just...so much more. You’ve always seemed like a couple, or, couple goals to say the least. Not only that, but you seem to genuinely care for each other. You give words of affirmation, and he gives you acts of genuine affection.”

“How would you know such a thing?” your brow cocked as she sighed.

“My dear, it’s called observation. Speaking of observing, you can’t deny that Reiner is very attractive.”

“I-”

“I mean, he’s a total catch. He’s a very good looking gentleman. One that actually takes care of his hygiene. He’s presentable most of the time, and treats you like the lady you are. Giving you the respect which you deserve. Very attractive in my opinion. Chivalrous, yet understanding of a lady’s worth.”

“I agree with that,” though your feelings for Reiner were platonic, what she stated was...somewhat true. Just disclude the whole “wanting to kill you,” along with the “using you as a way to cope,” and vice versa.

“So you do like him?” she asked as you sat there, not sure about what your response would be.

“Well…” a question then sprung in your head. You put your cup down, to then eye her yourself as she locked her gaze. Awaiting for whatever your answer would be.

“Alexandra what if...what if there was someone else?”

“Someone better looking than Reiner?”

“I...I guess so,” you chuckled as she stared at you in shock.

“No way...did you get with Porco? Wow...you surprise me the more I get to know you-”

“Wait a minute, you think Porco is more charming than Reiner?” You cut her midway through, baffled to say the least. Now you were the person in shock as she smiled cockishly. Proud of such a statement.

“Well...yes...yes I do,” she said shamelessly as you now laughed.

“Wait, but why? I’m genuinely curious,” you said, obviously having a different opinion.

“First of all, his undercut is both sharp and clean. Not only that, but the dirty blonde really suits him. His build is nice, along with the fashion he portrays. Though not too out of the ordinary, you can tell he puts in the effort to look his best.

The energy he gives off is adventurous, dark, and mysterious, you know? But at the same time, he also seems like a gentleman. One who’s misunderstood, yet has a soft interior. His eyes seem to hide an excruciating pain, yet his smile is one full of brightness, and laughter,” you were surprised about how philosophical, and passionate she was when describing Porco...Porco of all people. No offense to him, but you would never see him in such light.

Regardless, she seemed proud to say such a statement, as she then asked you:

“And you? Just what about Reiner intrigues you? I understand for some reasons, but more than Porco?” you nodded to then state:

“I can’t guarantee my description will be a full fledged english essay. But oh well, here it goes,” she listened intrigued, ready to hear your rebuttal.

“Well, he does have a beard. Though Zeke’s is fuller, Reiner’s compliments his face structure. He has a very um...broad build, the blonde suits him well, and over all, is a very sweet person. Compared to Porco, I would say he has a much more timid nature. Don’t get me wrong, he can speak his mind, but is a little more sensitive when doing so. That being the case, I feel as if he’s more relatable. Though, I may be saying this because I’ve known him for longer, outside of Marely of course, I just think he’s the better option-”

“The better option, so he is an option. Meaning that you feel attracted to him. Leading to the conclusion that you like him,” she grinned maliciously as you panicked.

“Um well...I wouldn’t say that…”

“Interesting...but my point still stands haha. If you ever need someone to help you prepare for the occasion...if I come back...I’ll be sure to aid you.”

“Of course,” she then stood up, placing the flowers in a vase. Grabbing her bag, her coat, her hat, standing before you.

“But before I go, just who is this other person?...Are you really seeing someone?”

“I…” you weren’t sure what to say to her, as the hesitation rang in your voice.

“No...I just wanted to know what your thoughts would be,” You know you should have told her yes, but you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire, and if you couldn’t even tell the warriors, telling someone else shouldn’t have been an option.

“I see, well...farewell Y/n. Let us meet again, and if not here...somewhere else…”

“Yes, of course,” you smiled happily as the door then shut.

You were glad that one, she came to visit you, and two, that things were now over. You sat in your seat, stretching out your arms to hear another knock. Except this time, it was coming from behind you. Your head then flung backwards, your smile growing even wider as your chair tilted.

“Good morning handsome~”

“Good morning beautiful, how are you?”

“Greater than ever, how about you? Did you sleep well?”

“Magnificent. Also yeah, I did sleep well...surprisingly,” you both laughed a little, as you then got up, placing breakfast for the both of you. Though a little full from the meeting before, you still wanted to enjoy a meal with Jean. After all, it had been so long since the last time you did. And plus, that was during your time as a cadet. You weren’t able to enjoy such a feast in the morning.

You both ate in silence. Both of you trying to enjoy the food, and each other’s company. Letting the peace around settle in. Once you had finished both eating, and cleaning up after yourselves, you then decided to speak, asking:

“Did you hear the conversation I had earlier? I’m assuming you probably woke up because of it,” you didn’t ask how much he heard. You instead wanted to see how much he did hear from the man himself. He put the cloth he was holding down. Similar to you, he wanted to see if you’d tell him anything from the conversation. So he asked:

“Was there anything important I should be informed about regarding it?”

“No…” you lied guiltily, but you didn’t know how to handle it otherwise. He then decided to hint you with what he knew, by saying:

“Hm...Is Reiner really your type? Do I have to buff it up, go blonde, and grow a stache?” he then touched his face as you laughed. Both out of silliness, and nervousness. You felt worried knowing he heard that much of your conversation. Meaning, he knew you hadn’t denied Alexandra even once.

“Haha no! I love you just the way you areeee!”

He then looked at the ground, leading him to stand up.

“If that’s the case,” he leaned against the wall, staring at you intensely.

“No? Y/n, why did you say no?” you sighed in defeat, seeing that he most definitely was on your tail.

“I can’t tell her I’m dating a ‘devil’ from Paradis,” you said, trying to make an excuse.

“You wouldn’t have needed to tell her that...just saying yes should’ve been a good enough answer. You didn’t have to say no.”

“I know…”

“Then why did you?..”

“I just...I’m not even sure myself-”

“About this...us?...” he stopped himself while clenching his fist. Though he was annoyed, he didn’t want to push that onto you. He knew you cared about your relationship, and plus, it sounded petty for him to say.

“Never mind...it’s not a big deal.”

“I see…” you agreed, still feeling guilty as he then asked:

“You’re not planning on marrying him...right?”

“Hm,” you think to yourself. Though your mind had run blank, he certainly did not as it ran with rage. Seeing you hesitate when the answer should have been obvious. He just couldn’t handle it, along with his sense of inferiority. Though he had matured, there were still times where acted otherwise. This being one of them.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say no, almost immediately-”

“You know I won’t Jean…”

“Then why didn’t you tell off your friend? You didn’t deny the proposal, or your affection for him.”

Jean wasn’t jealous, rather, frustrated. Frustrated that you weren’t using your words (yet again), nor telling him any of your thoughts. It's like watching a movie with no audio, he wasn’t able to understand your actions even when seeing them. Without any coordination, communication would never reach his side of the spectrum.

He scrunched his eyebrows, and pinched the bridge between them. Though that was the case, he was trying to be patient with you. After all, this was something new and he didn’t want you to feel pressured. Nor did he want you to feel like it was completely your fault. Even if it was, he wouldn’t have known unless you told him so.

“Look Y/n...I really don’t want to fight, especially over something like this. But in order for me to understand things, even if it does hurt my feelings, I need to understand your thought process. That way, I’m able to clear up any misunderstandings. You tend to keep your mouth shut, and that’s not something that we need as of right now. You know how I feel, now it’s your turn,” you were still hesitant, feeling pressured as he approached you. He looked into your eyes. His stare was desperate, yet understanding. Patting your head as you gazed upwards.

“I’m sorry for acting like that...but you know...your actions do hurt me, especially when I don’t know where you’re coming from. So can you please...try to explain?” he pouted as you sighed, ready to convey how you felt. He seemed excited seeing that you were somewhat ready, feeling like a proud father...which was something he didn’t feel often (having both Connie and Sasha). It was a weird metaphor, but the only one which could describe the moment.

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. Although I do trust her, it could get out. You never know. Plus, I didn’t want to deny the proposal yet. I still need to talk things out with Reiner, and his mother” he seemed a bit disappointed, leading you to then hug him.

“But I can promise you, it’s something that won’t happen. I love you, and you alone,” he then wrapped his arms around, returning the favour. Him hovering over your top half, as you hugged his torso, still in your seat.

“I see...thanks for that but...I think I’ll still go blonde-”

“NO! I like your brown hair, it’s cute!”

“Cute eh? I guess I’ll keep it then,” Him then smirking at the ego boost, as you sat flushed.

“I love your hair as well.”

---

After breakfast, you both decided to make plans. Heading out for a walk in the park, wanting to spend more time together. If anything, you could conclude it as being a date. You went out for lunch, and strolled together while conversing. Though walking was a great thing, so was sitting. That being the case, you both sat on a bench. Hands intertwined, feet swinging, and him calmly humming. Moments had passed in such comfort for him to ask:

“What’s happened in your life? Well, other than becoming part of the military, and all of the boring stuff.”

“Nothing much, how about you? What’s been happening in yours?”

“Ah...I can’t say too much about that,” he nervously said, as you backed off, understanding it wasn’t something to be said aloud. You both then sat awkwardly, only for you to ask something that you had been curious about.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? After I left...the truth if possible,” you knew Jean was a truthful person, you trusted him, but you also knew he would sugar coat things to make you feel better. That being the case, you wanted honesty. No matter what. Afterall, you deserved to hear such criticism if needed. It was the least you could do to attone.

“I guess I’ll start off lightly. Um...we did find the cellar, the one which Eren’s father resided in. We also took back Shiganshina, though now mainly used for military purposes...I think. Not only that, but your horse has been doing fine.”

“Violet? How about Buchwald?”

“Yeah, him too. They’re pretty good friends in my opinion,” he looked at you to see that you weren’t content. It seemed as if you wanted to know more, rather than being shielded by the lightness in his words. Since you could make your own decisions, so could he. Deciding that he would tell you instead of keeping you from things. Things that you honestly...deserved to know.

“After you died...I barely slept. I couldn’t eat, train, or even walk for that matter. I was pretty malnourished during that time, refusing to have a meal. I did that feeling guilty that you couldn’t have it with me. You passed and yet I still lived?...it didn’t seem fair no matter what was said. I was pretty grumpy as well. Angry, sad, and confused. Not knowing what to do.

When Marco died, instead of mourning, I instead used it as a way to motivate me. To push myself even further for humanity, so that his death wouldn’t go in vain. But with your death...I couldn’t even. It was too painful to even bring up. Thinking of it as my motivation, seemed both coward like, and sickening.

Everyone else was pretty moody as well. Not sure how to approach such rogue behaviour from me, nor how to accept your death. Even though I made the biggest ordeal, they still mourned. However, even though that was the case, what matters is that you’re alive now. We’ve also talked things through, and now I’m here...with you,” he grasped your hand, smiling softly. The guilt that now built in your stomach, remind you of the pain you put him through. Not only that, but the anguish which held him captive for so many years. Though you put him in such a position...he was still willing to forgive you?

You stared at him. His eyes broken, yet also...in the process of healing. Although you couldn’t change the past, maybe you could alter the present, concluding in a better future for you both. You smiled as his thumb caressed your knuckles, loving the warmth. You sat there for a second, to then ask:

“Tell me...is Berthold alive?...in Paradis?” he then stopped, as he looked at the ground. You understood the answer, based on the actions given.

“How did he die?”

“Armin...ate him-”

“What? That’s only possible if-”

“We had spinal fluid? I know,” you sat there spooked. Just now finding out Paradis had such information, climbing up the latter as you spoke. They’d probably catch up to your wits eventually. Though that was the case, and you could have worried even more, you decided against it. Knowing this wasn’t the time to.

Instead, you decided to focus on Bertholdt. He was really gone...though you assumed it would have been better than being held captive, it still hurt. He must have felt so much pain going through that. Not only did he get eaten, but he was alone. None of you were there to help, nor witness such a sight. It saddened you as your eyes teared. The sweetest person, the only person who didn’t want to fight, was finally taken out of it in such a brutal way.

Jean saw the distress that struck across you, as he then wiped your tears. Trying to console you the best way he could. He knew what it felt like to lose a friend, heck he even thought he lost you. It was a process that hurt a lot...but one that would come to pass.

“What about everyone else?...”

“Hm...everyone is fine...especially Sasha and Connie. Those two are still as lively as ever,” he smiled as you followed suit.

“I’m glad they’re still the hooligans they were.”

“Yeah…me too.”

“How did you get here?...and why are you here?” you asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“Shh...it’s a secret,” he joked, obviously trying to avoid the question. After he answered, you could feel the tension in the air. One not wanting to tell the other everything just yet. You both trusted each other...yet felt as if your intentions...were something to keep behind closed doors…. For now at least.

Jean then sighed, gripping onto your hand even tighter. He, along with you, tried breaking the ice. Him with his actions, and you with your words. Though it felt a little awkward, you still wanted to carry out your conversation.

“You know, even though I tried pushing things aside...after leaving...I could never get over the departure. Separating from you, our comrades, and the place that made me feel...happy...normal...and well...loved,” grinning he then draped his arm over you. Your hand then grabbed his which lay on your chest, both intertwining whilst you both were even closer.

“Also...I’m surprised you didn’t move on. Especially after all of that time,” his expression then changed into a curious one.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you thought I died. Not only that, but you're quite the ladies man. So I wouldn’t see you having much to...any difficulty actually.”

“I could never Y/n...though it sounds childish, you were my first love. I couldn’t imagine leaving you for someone else, even if you had passed. I would’ve died an old stallion,” he dramatically said as you burst out laughing. He loved seeing the face you’d make when you were happy. How lovely the corner of your lips would lift, the way your eyes crinkled, as your brows lifted the slightest bit. He was glad he could see such a sight, and that he was the cause behind it.

“Who said you won't, ya horse!”

“HEY! I’M NOT ONE!” laughter continued to fill the atmosphere. Both you and him adding your humor to the mood. Laying your head on his chest, and moving in closer.

“You know, if we ever do part ways...don’t feel bad, okay?” you stated.

“What do you mean?”

“It can apply to anything but...I mean death to be more specific. You never know what will happen in the midst of battle.”

“Hm...I guess so”

“But, the guilt will live with me forever. No matter what because...I just love you that much,” you smile to yourself and nod.

“I too, love you just as much...Jean. And I always will.”

---

While you two were enjoying your moment, being yourselves, cherishing each other’s presence, Zeke was not having any of it. He didn’t hate the sight of you being with someone else, it was just that...he thought your priorities lay elsewhere. Both in loyalty, and worth ethically. That being the case, he decided to do the only logical thing. Crash. The. Party.

So, he crept behind the both of you, clawed his hands, and placed them on your shoulders screaming:

“BOO!”

“WHAT THE HECK!” you then smacked his arm, quickly squirming away from Jean.

“Heh, good morning to you as well, Y/n. Now, who’s this we have here?” Before you could respond, Jean sighed, extending his hand. He knew that if he let you talk, you would be put in another awkward position.

“My name is...John. A friend of Y/n,” you wheezed internally. He just had to pick the most generic name, one which sounded like his own. Zeke grabbed his hand, and shook it.

“Ah...nice to meet you John. Anyways, Y/n...Reiner has been looking for you all morning. His face seemed urgent, so I think you should go see him,” though Jean wasn’t pleased, with both Zeke, and the fact you had to leave (him for Reiner), he approved of the notion with a small nod.

“I’ll see you later, Je-John.”

“Yeah...same here,” he then walked the other direction, leaving both you and Zeke to walk towards HQ.

“Were you lying, about Reiner?” hand in his pocket, as the other smoked up a storm.

---

“No, I wasn’t. He actually was looking for you.”

“I see.”

“Also Y/n, just for the record, know that I’m not dumb, nor oblivious. I know what stunt you two were pulling off, trying to lie to me, tch,” he said, clearly annoyed. You inhaled the smoke of cigarettes. Not sure what to tell him. But you were also...laughing a bit. Actually enjoying his reaction since you’ve never seen Zeke so frustrated out of work.

“I see I’ve upset you?”

“Whatever you rascal. How long have you been with him?” he smiled as your hands clasped.

“We really are just friends. I met him at a pub, nothing much has happened between us, nor will anything in general,” he sighed as his tone became a lot firmer. Though he didn’t believe you, he still had something to say.

“You need to be more careful. If it were someone else who had seen, even more rumors would've been speculated, you know that? Plus, friendship or not, know where your priorities stand,” you choked on your saliva, trying to cough as his words caught you by surprise.

Before he could say anything more, the gates to HQ then opened for the both of you to see...Reiner...running as fast as he could.

“Reiner?...”

“Y/n! You’re here!”

“Yeah...I am….”

“I need you, let’s go,” he then dragged you elsewhere as Zeke stomped on his cigarette.

“You may need her...but does she actually need you...Reiner?”

Ⅹ > Ⅻ

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya @oqueequesentes-borboletas @kebabgirl67 @indigosaurus (some of you new readers didn’t ask, but I took the liberty. If you want me to remove you, I totally will without hard feelings.)

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

#netflix #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #captain syverson fanfic #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader

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milfnearyou · 4 years ago

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟑.𝟐𝐊 | 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 (𝐗-𝐄𝐗𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐈)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: KIDNAPPING. TORTURE. PTSD. TRAUMA. WHIPPING. HARASSMENT. NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. MENTIONS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ELEMENTS. LIGHT TALK OF PERSONALITY DISORDERS AND SCHIZOPHRENIA WILL BE DELVING INTO MORE DETAILS ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.

I ALSO DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A SERIES TO PREVENT MAKING THE WHOLE THING REALLY LONG ON ONE POST SINCE TUMBLR GLITCHES A LOT BUT ALSO FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN’T FOCUS ON VERY LONG FICS :)

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

To say that you were hurting would be an understatement.

Everything and anything served as an infernal memory. Whether it be an object or something as simple as the weather, the effect it had could potentially be triggering for you. This new way of life felt more like a slow, painful process in which you were dying.

Overwhelming, things were now always overwhelming. Your anxiety shooting through the roof, the small person inside of you crumbling away into nothing as you screamed at the top of your lungs only to never be heard.

Your life felt orchestrated, the strings and rhythms conducted by no one else but Lucifer himself. With your pain, he created a symphony for a play, one that was to be forever engrained within your mind, body and soul.

It felt surreal, a simulation with you as its subject and yet, it was in every way authentic. None of it was a figment of your imagination, it wasn't just a bad dream but it was your reality. The scars that littered your body like a tormented and abused piece of canvas served as proof that it had all happened.

Your body ached, countless spikes of excruciating pains rushing through your many vessels and arteries, the nerves on your body were almost always on edge. It was difficult to hold onto reality, the point of returning being so far away that the thought of just letting go, would be a much quicker and simple solution. After all, you were halfway to insanity and the thought of being sane no longer remained a possibility.

It didn’t stop there. Your biggest enemy was your mind. The cursed piece of soft tissue that sat right in the middle of your enclosed skull was the one thing quickest to abandon you, betraying you within a blink of an eye and letting your body act on its own. It was impossible to control your thoughts when you almost always gravitating towards self-destruction.

Day and night, your mind screamed at you, unleashing a cacophony of howling, piercing screams that made your head ring. Blaring on and on, it had no limit. Going as far as venturing into your dreams late at night, filling your only moment of peace with countless nightmares. It was driving you mad. Always pushing you to constantly fight with yourself. You tried your best to ignore the urges but it seemed impossible.

Loudly, you'd scream into the emptiness of your surroundings telling yourself to shut up, to make it stop. Occasionally going as far as becoming physical, slapping the palms of your hands against your temple in attempts to strike yourself awake or hitting your head against a flat surface in attempts to knock the thoughts out.

But there was no chance to wake up. You were long gone. Stuck in a deep slumber that caused your physical state to act like a zombie. Almost as if your frontal lobe had shut down. Everything occurring in a rather monotone way. Laced with a sudden breakdown that hit you every other day, exploding with fear and anger. The effects of your past trauma reminding you that you still had feelings within, that you had emotions but that they were no longer positive. The negativity overflowed within you and was always ready to burst.

You saw people, individuals who claimed they could help. Medically known as psychiatrists but in your opinion, middle-aged women who seemed lonelier than you were. Portraits of Persian cats hung all over their workrooms, the scowls plastered on the faces of the felines were ones also visible on the psychiatrists themselves.

They always said it was the voices, emerging from your previously traumatic experience. Well no shit, of course, you knew that. It was a no brainer that there were voices in your head, you had diagnosed yourself of having un-welcomed people inside your mind a long time ago.

However, unbeknownst to the therapists themselves you also knew that they'd been planted into your mind from god knows how long ago. They simply waited for something to set them free, triggering the alarm and giving them proper cause to make you lose your mind.

All they needed was freedom and they were granted access to that with the help of a certain someone. A man who shared the same looks, name and identity as someone you grew close with, someone you developed feelings for. A man you fell in love with that had a terrible secret. It was hard to determine what exactly his secret was until you came face to face with it yourself. And when you did, you wanted out. Pandora's box had been opened and yet, it wasn't even your fault that it had.

You simply had to face the consequences of falling in love with someone who had a duplicate. Was it a clone? Or was it a twin? It was hard to say because he seemed to be from another world, a different planet even but in reality, he was conceived by the hands of a twisted mind. Fabricated inside a laboratory, only to be sent out many years later to wreak havoc upon your life.

And one dreaded night, he arrived. Snatching you away and hiding you for what added up to be weeks of torture. A show in which you were the leading role, the subject to many horrendous acts that one could never imagine. Acts that he always said were done because he “loved” you.

“You know I love you?” He’d say, all while his nimble fingers danced along the grains of your skin. Brushing up and down your arm as the fear raced through your veins. Your blood running cold, the hairs on your neck standing upwards. Your body was all too familiar with reacting with terror.

A few painfully quiet moments would pass, the sound of water dripping from the faucet, filtering into your conversation until he’d clear his throat. Leaning in forwards and resting his lips just above your left ear, his hot breath burning against your skin as you feel yourself holding in your breath.

“Silence isn’t an option, you either speak or be spoken for,” He warns and you nod rapidly in response. You knew the protocol and you knew exactly what it meant when he said that.

“Do you love me like I love you?” He asks. Circling from your back as he stands in front of you, using his calloused hand to hold your face upwards. Cupping your chin, his touch is moderately tender but you know that with one wrong move, everything could change.

“Define love,” You respond, not wanting to give him the direct answer he wanted. It would feed his ego all too much if you were to be so direct and yet, secretly he enjoyed you defying him. He loved how you didn't give in so quickly, it allowed him the chance to get physical and boy, did he love to get physical.

“Define love? I— obviously, don’t understand the concept of love as much as I'd like to admit. But when I look at you, the sickening feeling that emerges within me makes me think that yes, this is love. It’s everything that suppresses inside my chest, threatening to explode at any given moment. The oxygen that carries through my blood, that fuels the life inside me is filled with the thought of you. Love is, being alive and there’s nothing else except for you that makes me feel more alive.”

You fall silent at his response. Simply because none of it made sense, a cluster of babbled words falling out of his mouth as you stare at him watching as his expression slowly falls apart. The look of love is no longer there, replaced with infatuation, obsession and anger. He acted as if he’d known you for an eternity, professing his delusional love as if it mattered. As if you’d have a change of heart and drop everything within a blink of an eye just for him.

“...You must also understand that I love you because I can’t let him be the only person who loves you too,” He adds, “So do you love me like I love you? It’s only fair you do.”

“Love is a blessing in life. Something that isn’t forced upon, a concept in which— it may hold the key to your life in its hands but cannot be obtained without the honest feelings of another. It takes two to tango, not one, but two."

Momentarily pausing, you swallow the lump inside your throat, pushing it downwards. Allowing the newly found courage inside your body to come forward, "...And I'm afraid I can’t dance with you.”

Your rejection is something that hits him hard. Time seems to stop as the fleshy look on his face drops, the expression in his eyes have been replaced with a newfound fury. But it quickly wipes away as you watch him throw his head back letting out a cackle, his voice echoing inside the dingy, dark basement.

Like a slideshow, his emotions were quick to change moving from pure anger to joy as he laughs at your response. You can't help but sit there and think that he's absolutely mad. A man who shares the same body, face and voice as your lover but seems to be much more cunning and sinister. He's evil and he proves himself to be just that with his following actions and honestly, you aren't even surprised at this point.

His large hand that once caressed your face had now found its way to the knotted locks of hair, gripping it tightly as he shoves you to the ground. Pushing you down from the chair you once sat on and glueing you to the floor. The coldness of the surface is somewhat, soothing against your painfully hot skin as he presses your face against the ground. The weight of his body adding more pressure as he straddles you from behind, moving strings of your hair aside just so he can see your face. Amused, he smirks to himself when he sees you withering in pain, strings of saliva dripping past your chapped lips and leaking onto the floor.

"Oh dear, what a waste," He pouts, bringing forward a free hand to wipe your drool away. The tip of his finger now covered in your bodily fluids as he brings it to his lips, licking his finger in excitement. His eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as he moans in delight, "Deliciously, sweet."

Disgusted by his actions you can't help but shut your eyes. Shielding yourself one way or another from looking at his grotesquely beautiful visage. Naturally, the tears also begin to seep past your eyes, drifting down your cheeks. You can feel him lean in, hovering over you. A whimper squeaks past your lips when you feel his tongue dragging itself across your cheek, it feels like he's about to eat you alive. Like a lion licking its prey.

Removing his tongue from your cheek, he brings it towards your ear. Licking your helix before sucking gently on your earlobe, “I hope, you consider this next special thing. Perhaps, as a warning of some sort?”

Pushing himself off of you, you can hear him rummage around in the drawer he’s got next to the chair you once sat on. The sound of metallic objects rattling around and clinking against each other until it comes to a halt. The silence isn't soothing, it's terrifying.

Your heart begins to thump profusely, rapidly beating. You find it hard to breathe, to possibly calm down as your mind races with all the possible objects he could’ve chosen to use on you. A knife? Perhaps a nail gun.

The possibilities were essentially endless due to his massive collection of murderous weapons. But you receive your answer when you feel the long, multiple strips of leather entwined in cotton and tiny pieces of cattle bone brushing against your skin.

“Cat o’ nine tails,” He answers, introducing the weapon to you. Teasingly he brings the weapon up and down your bareback. Shuddering in fear as you feel the item grind against your back, the softness you feel now will be nothing in comparison to what you'll actually feel.

"Baby, remember that I have to do this because I love you."

Thwack!

The first blow that hits you makes your ears ring. The sensation feels hot, tingling at your skin. It's a mixture of pain along with pins and needles, only getting worse with each blow that he gives you. The stinging had a pain so strong and immense that it was hard for you to even lay there still, writhing around on the ground like a worm on hot pavement. You began to feel overwhelmed with pain, your nerves essentially on fire as you struggled to keep yourself awake.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

You could feel the skin on your back begin to rip open, the crimson blood seeping from your wounds as he kept going. There was no mercy as you screamed, your vocal cords straining so hard your voice went hoarse. Slowly, you began to shut down. First, your hands falling limp at your sides, your body cased in sweat as you felt drained to a pulp. Then your screams came to a halt, the breathing in your voice drastically slowing down. Finally, your eyes began to droop, fluttering shut as you saw nothing but black.

Was this the end for you?

Jolting upwards, you topple off your bed and collide with the ground. Gritting your teeth in pain when you feel your back begin to burn, your semi-healed scars becoming agitated from the impact. Slowly rising upwards you panic at your dark surroundings but calm down once you realize that you're at home. Your sweet Maison, inside your calming bedroom with your lover sound asleep on his half of the mattress.

He's at peace with his soft and supple cheek squished against the fluffy pillow. Strands of his brown hair sticking about, his eyes shut tightly. You can't help but mumble to yourself about how adorable he is before leaving your room. Quietly heading towards the kitchen and flickering on the lights, flinching when everything seemed to be much too bright.

Your eyes gravitate towards the clock on the wall, it was four in the morning. You decided that there was no way you were going back to sleep at this hour. Shuffling towards your coffee machine, you brew yourself an iced coffee mixing in a shot of almond milk with your drink. Adding in a few ice cubes, you stir your drink slowly trying your best to ignore the pain in your back.

"You alright?"

Turning around you see Jongin, standing there shirtless in his teddy bear PJ pants. He rubs his eyes a few times before putting on his circular framed glasses, giving you a sleepy smile when he finally sees you properly through the lens. He looked beautiful in his groggy state and so did you to him with your hair flowing freely. Dressed cosily in his white tee with your supreme briefs underneath it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did I wake you up?" You ask, taking a sip from your drink.

"No, you're good. Can you make me one too baby?"

Nodding in response you turn towards your coffee machine, your back facing towards him to brew him a drink. "Latte?" You ask.

"Mhm, you know me so well," Slowly he wraps his arms around you, failing to notice how you slightly flinch at his touch. His hands travel towards your stomach as he hugs you tightly, placing his nose in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent, "I love you so much."

The scene feels all too familiar and it makes you nervous. Gently you push him off of you, unaware that your gesture has hurt his feelings. Departing from your back he comes to your side, leaning against the marble counter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He questions.

"I'm fine, just...don't, do that," You reply, the tone of your voice is soft, almost delicate as if you spoke any louder something would break.

"Do what?" He asks while bringing his hand towards your shoulder, frowning when he sees you dip your shoulder away from his touch, "You don't want me to touch you?"

Sighing you turn to face him, observing his hurt expression. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks at you for an answer.

"Nini, it's not that I don't want you to touch me. It's because I'm still injured from the incident, so everything's just a bit fragile," You explain, partially lying through your teeth. It was true you were very hurt but you also didn't want him touching you because everything he did reminded you of the other him.

He nods quietly, smiling softly at you as he slowly gestures you to have a seat at the coffee table, "I'll cover the drink, you go rest."

Sitting down at the coffee table you quietly enjoy your beverage. Jongin soon joining you, seated at the front. The kitchen is quiet, dimly lit by the singular overhanging light you've got on. Jongin's caramel complexion shining underneath the lightbulbs rays. His eyes are affectionate, his gaze never leaving you as he chews on his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I know it's been hard and I'm really sorry that you have to be hurting. I just wish that the incident could've brought us closer somehow but it's just, pushing us apart."

Drumming your fingers against the table you avoid his gaze. You don't know what to say, you can't blame him for what happened. But you also can't help but think that had you not known Jongin then you would've never met the other him. His twin or, whatever he was.

"I should've told you about him. Then maybe I could've prevented this somehow," His voice falters as you look up to see him. He's wiping his tears away, the whites of his eyes are slightly red.

"Jongin—”

"Tell me," He interrupts, "Do you see him when you look at me?"

Looking at Jongin, you can definitely see the other him. Except for the fact that the other him or Kai as he liked to call himself had dark green hair. Besides the difference in hair colours, they were pretty much identical. Opting to remain silent, he receives his answer.

"I wish it had never happened but, now that everything's passed I want to be by your side to help you heal. I want to help you through this," He explains. Nonchalantly sliding his hand forwards, he offers you to take his hand and you do, though not right away. Intertwining your fingers with his, you feel his thumb rub the skin of your palm gently.

"You know I love you?" He says and you can't help but shudder when those words come fluttering out of his mouth. Looking up at him you momentarily see Kai rather than Jongin and your heart stops. Afraid that you'll be punished for not speaking back. You say it back, in an almost trained responsive way. Even if the man that's in front of you isn't Kai but Jongin. You say it back because you're still afraid, you're still scared and those affectionate words do nothing but terrify you.

"I love you too."

#🧗‍♀️: queue!#ficscafe #kai x reader #kai angst #exo angst #exo x reader #exo fanfic #kai fanfics #x exo kai x reader #kindly leave a review if you’d like! feedback is appreciated!#chapter two coming soon :)

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 4 years ago

Text

Might stop reading Worm.

Content warning: bugs/insects/arachnids and related horror, body horror mention, miscellaneous violence mention, sexual violence/assault mention

My thoughts on the first ten arcs of Worm. (contains spoilers)

So, I finally got around to reading Worm. It was kinda big when I was in high school, and I still know some people who are/were into it, so I thought it was time that I gave it a serious shot. I did actually try to read it in high school once, but I couldn’t get into it and stopped reading after the first chapter. I tried to be a little more persistent this time to give it a fair evaluation.

When I started reading Worm this time around, I kind of just breezed past the warning at the beginning (“This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers. Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass.”) I don’t consider myself someone who really gets triggered by media. I think it’s important to talk about stuff, including fucked-up stuff. It’s uncomfortable, but that discomfort is part of the point. I think it probably should bother you to read about terrible things, even fictional ones, given that those fictional atrocities almost always have real-world counterparts.

I think I vastly underestimated the amount of fucked-up-ness that is in Worm. When I read that warning, I thought, “Okay, this story’s probably dealing with some dark themes, and there might be some particular scenes that are really disturbing.” After reading the first ten arcs, though, I feel it’s more accurate to say that fucked-up-ness is Worm. It is the core of the story, and there is really very little else.

So it’s not that any particular thing that happened in the story triggered an immediate, strong, psychologically-damaging reaction in me, but as I continued reading, I began to notice that not only was I not enjoying myself, I was actually finding it subtly unpleasant. When I read about something bad happening, I get hit with a small dose of negative emotion. As it turns out, that adds up over time, especially when there aren’t any positive scenes to balance out the negative stuff. Without me even noticing for a long time, Worm was making me unhappy.

Here’s what I did like about Worm:

Impressive world-building - Wildbow is exceptional at inventing different locations, groups, and individual actors and thus creating a detailed ecosystem of capes and civilians.

Lots of characters, lots of superpowers - Directly related to the previous point, Worm contains a lot of characters...arguably too many characters. I generally prefer stories that focus on a smaller number of characters in order to give each character more room for development, but I appreciate Wildbow’s talent for coming up with vivid, if simplistic, characterizations. There are also some really interesting superpowers and interesting takes on common powers.

Inventive use of Taylor’s superpower - Taylor is always coming up with new uses for her power: having black widow spiders spin silk for her suit, using her bugs are a sixth sense to keep track of her enemies and environment, using venomous bugs to take hostages, covering her body in bugs as a disguise, coating her bugs’ stingers in capsaicin for extra punch, using human-shaped swarms to fake out her enemies...The list goes on and on, and I really appreciate how Wildbow took this oft-overlooked superpower to the next level.

Danny Hebert - The only character in the story who I can say I genuinely like. Danny Hebert is a union organizer whose pet project is getting the ferry up and running again so that there can be more interaction between the poorer and wealthier parts of Brockton Bay. I also loved the scene where he supports Taylor in the “mediation” with her bullies and their parents at school. Even if he was impotent, unable to protect her, I could tell he was on her side. His one screw-up is when he locks Taylor in the living room and tries to force her to talk to him, but it definitely makes sense with his character (a little bit of a pushover) and the story (Taylor was shutting him out and seemed to be putting herself in danger) that he would end up letting Taylor’s grandma convince him to take a forceful approach. Don’t get me wrong, locking up your kid is a horrible thing to do (I should know, my parents did it to me, and it fucked me up), but I still ended up feeling bad for him when Taylor just up and disappeared. She didn’t even call her dad to let him know that she was still alive after Leviathan! I mean, on the one hand, I do actually appreciate that she started making an effort to protect her father from the dangers of her cape life, something that I was kind of appalled to see that she never even considered before. But damn, did I feel bad for Danny.

Here’s what I didn’t like:

Way too much fucked-up shit happening - Name an atrocity, Worm’s probably got it. The plot is mostly just terrible thing after terrible thing and reveals of how terrible all of the characters are, with many terrible things that aren’t directly treated in the plot peppered in along the way.

Lots of capes, no heroes - This is one of those themes that sounds deep on paper but is really just cynical and fatalistic. Even if all the capes are corrupted by power (or by the toxic power dynamics between capes), what about civilians? Where’s the thoughtful therapist or the brave fire-fighter? Danny Hebert is one notable exception to the “Everyone is terrible” rule, but we don’t see all that much of him. Other than him, the only person I can think of who could possibly fit this “civilian hero” role is Aisha’s social worker, who I don’t think even has a name.

All superpowers are evil - This is arguably just a rephrasing of the previous point, but I think it’s important to mention. Worm contains so many superpowers, but it seems like they’re all being put to evil purposes. Panacea, the superheroine with healing powers (really just dominion over health and illness of the human body in general), makes some really despicable threats (e.g. giving someone cancer with a touch, or giving someone a disorder that will only manifest at an unknown time in the future, leaving them to anguish over their fate). Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing inherently wrong with writing a character using this type of power for evil ends. There’s a lot of interesting stuff to explore there, and I actually love that Panacea is a character that acknowledges the burden of having a healing power, feeling unable to take any time for yourself while simultaneously growing to resent those you feel obligated to help. My issue is not with Panacea but with the fact that literally every superpower in the story is painted in a negative light. It just feels absurd to suggest that, for example, someone like Gallant couldn’t use his power (carefully and thoughtfully and with consent) to heal people with emotional trauma. Superpowers in Worm are only for violence and conflict and crime, and I just don’t understand that. Again, the rogues form a token exception, but we rarely actually see them, and one of the first rogues we meet, Canary, is immediately subject to harsh and unjust punishment and never heard from again.

A misguided focus on only certain types of crime/violence - Worm deals with gang violence, robberies, and general chaos-inducing terrorism. It focuses on crimes perpetuated by working-class individuals and small to medium size illicit groups. There’s some commentary on state-sanctioned violence in terms of the corruption of the Protectorate and Dragon’s worries of having to obey a despot should one take over the government, but it’s not exactly framed in a way that highlights the struggles of the average person; the focus is almost entirely on capes. Worm doesn’t discuss things like wage theft, illegal rent hikes, or, dare I say it, the inherent violence of capitalism, which, while less flashy, are important problems with far-reaching consequences. It’s weird, and honestly kind of unrealistic, that there’s not a single anarcho-communist cape. Whether you agree with that kind of politics or not, it’s still a glaring omission if the setting of the story is trying to emulate real life. Again, Danny Hebert’s role as a union organizer and interest in restoring the ferry and reintegrating the city pay token attention to some of these ideas, but the vast majority of the story is unconcerned with addressing the source of, or solutions to, poverty and crime in Brockton Bay and the wider world of Worm.

So those are my thoughts. There’s a part of me that still thinks, “But so many people like this so much! Maybe it’ll get better!” I have a really strong drive to understand why others like the things that they do, to be able to share in their appreciation. But from what I’ve seen in a couple memes I happened upon, things are getting worse, not better for the world of Worm. And even if things start to resolve at some point, I’m not sure it would be great for my mental health to continue reading up to that point.

The breaking point for me, if you’re curious, was when a main character was just casually revealed to be a serial rapist. That wasn’t even the point of the chapter, it was just kind of thrown out there as an extremely-not-fun fact. So I was still reeling from that reveal while also experiencing all of the atrocities said character was committing in the moment, and after that was when I realized, “Hey, maybe this is not the kind of content I should be reading.” It even took reading a few more chapters into Arc 11 for it to really sink in, but I had this weird revelation of like, I get to choose which fictional worlds I spend my time in, and the world of Worm isn’t one I relish.

If you do enjoy Worm, I’d be curious to hear your thoughts on what makes it appealing to you.

#text #long text #review #thoughts #web serial #fiction #Worm #superpowers #parahumans #superheroes #supervillains #morality #evil #violence #capitalism #systemic violence #grimdark

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ronsenburg · 4 years ago

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Hi! I wanted to ask you something about Klapollo. What topic/argument do you think could possibly cause them to break up or take a break from the relationship? I live for the drama and was thinking about maybe writing a fic but like I dont want to make either of them assholes, like Apollo bringing Kristoph up to hurt Klavier, for example. I don't think he would do that but I struggle to come up with something else.

Oh boy, I hope you’re not upset about this, but I wrote you an essay. I’m sorry.

Overall, I really like the klapollo relationship timeline because, compared to, say, narumi/su they have a much more normal, organic story. They meet, flirt, share a mutual trauma, get together! Totally normal! But I also think that they would have a much harder time than narumi/su finding the balance you need in a serious relationship and I can see them calling it quits for perfectly practical reasons that aren’t really anything to do with one being a jerk, you know? Here are my top things that I think they would have to navigate and maybe struggle with before a real happily ever after:

1. Money. You’ve probably seen my post where I talk about Apollo feeling uncomfortable with displays of affluence. I don’t think that this is an easy one to get past. AA6 Spoilers, but Dhurke and Datz literally raised them in hiding on the run in the mountainous jungles of Khura’in. They sent Apollo to the states as a nine year old. We don’t know what he did when he got here, but my money’s always been on the foster system. That doesn’t typically breed a sense of stability, financial or otherwise.

From my experience (so take it with a grain of salt), children who grow up with very little tend to behave in one of two ways when they reach financial stability and/or achieve wealth: first option, they’re really bad with it. They spend it nearly as fast as they make it on things they didn’t get to have or experience when they were growing up. Second option, they never spend it. They know what it’s like to be without, so they save as much of it as they can so they have the security of knowing, if something happens, they won’t have to go back to the way it was before. I will always put Apollo in the latter category. He works hard for what he has and what he gets and, I think, things that signify extravagance make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I think that the Gavin’s have always had some sort of wealth. Klavier and Kristoph have very different aesthetics to their spaces that we get to experience (Klavier’s office and Kristoph’s cell) but they’re both pretty lavish. Now, we can assume they each made their money individually in their respective careers but, honestly, Kristoph’s cell is so gaudy. To me, it screams “this is what I’m used to and I refuse to accept any less” which is an attitude that I feel comes more from a lifetime of that treatment.

So if we accept everything that I’ve said above as true, trying to put a person who saves every penny they get and feels bad treating themselves with a person who spends money freely because it’s been a constant throughout their life? It can go poorly. Casually dating, maybe it’s not such an issue once Apollo says “please no more presents and can we just get takeout for once?” but if you’re talking about something more serious, where you have to live in the same space and pay joint bills and be confronted with the other person’s spending habits constantly, it’s a whole other thing. Please take it from me as a person in a long term relationship who loves their partner tremendously—everyone fights about money. Everyone. It would be very difficult for Apollo to feel comfortable, even if he knew that finances were in good shape and there was savings, etc. Things happen, people leave. Nothing gold can stay. Changing that line of thinking takes work. It would also be easier said than done for Klavier to just do an about face on his own habits for Apollo’s comfort. Being a celebrity makes money, but it costs money, too. There is a certain amount of lushness that people expect. That can’t just go away. These are things that become bigger problems overtime, no matter how much you love each other.

Anyway, I would be really surprised if—even if you’re writing them as really happily married—Apollo doesn’t have a ‘emergency fund’ that even Klavier doesn’t know about. It’s a ‘just in case’. Just in case Klavier leaves him. Just in case he needs to get away fast. Just in case the world ends. It’s not a logical thing, something that he sat down and rationalized doing, it’s just there because it feels better to have it than to not. But that can be kind of hurtful if the other person finds out about it, so. There you go, a whole minefield of money related drama.

2. Apollo’s Abandonment Issues. He’s got them! What do you call and orphan twice over who also lost his very best friend? I don’t know, but if capcom doesn’t stop picking on my boy I’m going to kick them in the teeth. I will still never get over AA6 for telling us that Dhurke took Apollo in when he was orphaned as a baby, then abandoned him in the USA, then came back for him and got his hopes up, and then was actually dead the whole time! Hahahaha! What a trip!

Anyway, you don’t come back from that super easy. People who suffer this kind of trauma usually have a really hard time trusting others, which is understandable. They also can have unrealistic needs from their partners, become codependent, or even just self-sabotage their relationships, pulling away first to try and avoid the pain because they think the other person will leave them. I think that last one is most likely for Apollo, especially given the disparity in circumstances I mentioned above. If Apollo can’t trust that Klavier actually loves him, can’t trust that he won’t leave him like EVERYONE ELSE HAS, then they can’t have a healthy relationship. Drama.

3. Klavier’s Emotional Trauma. Kristoph is a pretty big jerk to Klavier in the last case of AA4. He criticizes and undermines Klavier, threatens and admits to manipulating him. In the anthology, Klavier shares an “lol so funny!” story about Kristoph accidentally breaking a window while he and Klavier are playing ball. In it, he convinces Klavier that it was his fault and that he should take the blame and apologize for breaking the window! And Klavier does! That’s gaslighting, baby, and since the Anthology is supposed to be canon, we can take that to mean it’s been happening since Klavier was a kid. Think about that. An entire life of gaslighting and manipulative behavior! You don’t come back from that easily, either.

People who experience emotional abuse can, among other things, suffer from depression and low-self esteem. They need affirmation from their partners and can have a hard time with letting people in or being honest (though not from a malicious mindset—more a “I’m going to say what I think you want to hear because if you’re happy, bad things won’t happen!”). They can also always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Sure things are good, but when will that end and the bad time start? It’s a self fulfilling prophecy: if all you can do is worry about things going wrong, then you aren’t actually enjoying when things are going right and you will cause the issues you’re so worried about. Drama.

4. Fame. Klavier has been in the spotlight since he was a literal child. If the Gavinners were already hits when Klavier was 17, they likely formed and starred their rise some time before then. A year, maybe two? Klavier spent his formative years in the spotlight. He quite literally doesn’t know any other way. Apollo, on the other hand, has never experienced the kind of scrutiny he’d be subject to when dating someone like Klavier. It can be really stressful and hurtful and just overall not a good time. And I’m not saying that Klavier wouldn’t be sympathetic, but I don’t think he would really understand how difficult it could be to have been thrust into that position out of nowhere, because he’s had years of dealing with it and was in a completely different place in life when it began for him. It’s not unreasonable to think that Apollo might not be able to take it. You can love someone and want to be with them but if you can’t adapt to their lifestyle, it’s not going to work. They could walk away rather than risk what might happen to Apollo if they kept it up. Drama.

5. Careers. They both have very demanding jobs. While sharing a similar profession can mean there’s a mutual understanding, it can also cause issues if you... never get to see each other? Schedules can be out of alignment (which could easily happen; their cases can’t always line up and they seem to require a lot of time investment outside of just normal hours). If Klavier goes back into music, that’s an additional time constraint. Why be in a relationship when you can only see the other person for moments here and there? What about the stress that comes with those jobs? That can cause drama.

6. Klavier looks like Kristoph. They are very different people, yes, but similar enough in some ways that it could cause tension. Maybe Klavier is tired and stressed and snaps at Apollo, and suddenly, all Apollo can see is Kristoph and all he can feel is the uncomfortable churning in his stomach that goes along with the memories of him. Someone he trusted, someone who let him down. That’s a difficult subject to broach, and it can fester like an infected wound if left intended.

But Apollo sounds like Kristoph sometimes. We saw it in AA5, which is, of course, an extreme circumstance. But it can come out from time to time in other ways. A phrase that slips out, the way he intones certain words, the way he signs off in his emails—little things that are harmless, but can still act as triggers.

Sometimes you need to get away from things that can remind you of your past in order to work on getting over them. If you are in love with someone who shares a similar trauma, who brings those issues from the past to light frequently just by being themselves, it might not be a healthy situation. I don’t think they would need to throw it in each other’s faces for it to become an issue. Drama.

There are more, but I probably took this more seriously than you intended. Whoops! Anyway, I hope that helps??? Maybe???? I hope you get them back together in the end because they deserve to be happy though!!!!!!!

#LONG POST #shut up krissy #if you want me to cut this please let me know #klapollo

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