#hence why these thoughts which i do not expect anybody to agree with until someone provides some kind of evidence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sixth-light · 4 years ago

Text

The Crusades: A Fandom Primer

Like many of you, I am very excited to see a whole lot of fic about everybody’s favourite new Crusades-era Muslim/Christian immortal warrior husbands! However, a preliminary reading indicates that fandom is a bit hazy on what actually happened during the Crusades. Or where. Or why. They’re a much-mythologised piece of history so this isn’t surprising, but at popular request – ok like five people that counts – I’m here with a fandom-oriented Crusades primer.

Please bear in mind that I’m not a historian and this primer is largely based on my notes and recollections from several undergraduate history courses I took in the mid ‘00s. I expect the field has moved on somewhat, and I welcome corrections from people with more up-to-date knowledge! There’s also this very good post by someone who is a lot less lazy about links than I am.

Where did they take place?

The Crusades, broadly, describe a series of invasions of the Eastern Mediterranean (modern Israel, Syria, Lebanon, Beirut, Jordan, Cyprus, and parts of Turkey and Greece) by (mostly) Western European armies, religiously justified by their belief that the city of Jerusalem should be part of ‘Christendom’, i.e. ruled by a Christian monarch. In the first expression of European settler colonialism, nobles from the area of modern France and Germany founded four Crusader Kingdoms (aka ‘Outremer’, ‘overseas’) – the County of Edessa, the Principality of Antioch, the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and County of Tripoli.

After a first unexpected wave of success in the First Crusade (1096-1099), which surprised everybody including the participants by conquering Jerusalem, the Crusaders were gradually driven and the last part of Outremer was lost to European control with the fall of the city of Acre in 1291. Crusades after that still nominally aimed to take Jerusalem but rarely got very far, with the Fourth Crusade famously sacking the city of Byzantium, their nominal Christian allies, in 1204. During this whole period activity that can be considered part of the ‘Crusades’ took place around the Eastern Mediterranean.

The most important thing to remember is that modern national boundaries didn’t exist in the same way; Italy, Germany, France, Spain, and the UK were not unified nations. Most of the southern Iberian peninsula (modern Spain) was ‘al-Andalus’, Muslim kingdoms ruled by nobility originally from North Africa. Sicily had been an Emirate up until very recently, when it had been conquered by Normans (Vikings with a one-century stopover in France). Italy and Germany in particular were a series of city-states and small duchies; Genoa, if you’re curious about it for some reason, ;), was a maritime power with more or less a distinct language, Genoese Ligurian (their dialect had enough of a navy to qualify). England had recently become part of the Anglo-Norman Empire, which ruled most of England (but not Wales or Scotland) and also large parts of modern France, particularly Normandy.

The Muslim world was similarly fragmented in ways that don’t correspond to modern national boundaries - there were multiple taifa states in Iberia, the Almoravid Caliphate in Morocco, the Fatimid Caliphate in Egypt, and (nominally) the Abbasid Caliphate in Baghdad, one of the great cities of the era, although the Seljuq Turks were the major power in Anatolia (modern Turkey) and what we describe as the ‘Middle East’.

The largest Christian unified power in the wider European/Mediterranean region was the Byzantine Empire, centered on the city of Constantinople (modern Istanbul), which quite fairly considered itself the direct continuation of the Roman Empire, the capital having been moved there by the Emperor Constantine in 323. In fact, the really big political and religious question of the time for Christians was who got to be considered the centre of Christendom (there was no real concept of ‘Europe’ at this point) – the Orthodox Church, the Byzantine Emperor, and the Patriarch of Constantinople in Constantinople, or the Holy Roman Emperor (er…dude in nominal charge of a lot of German and Italian principalities) and the Roman Catholic Church led by the Pope in Rome. The Orthodox Church in Constantinople and the Roman Catholic Church had agreed to disagree in 1054 in the Great Schism, so in 1096 this issue was still what you’d call fresh.

Onto this stage of East-West disagreement and the heritage of Rome crashed the Seljuq Turks, a Muslim group from Central Asia who swept through Anatolia (modern Turkey), Byzantium’s richest province, culminating in the Battle of Manzikert in 1071 which wiped out Byzantium as an independent military force. The southern provinces had fallen under Muslim rule long ago, during the era of the first Umayyad Caliphate – including Jerusalem, famous as the birthplace of Christianity and a holy site for Judaism and Islam as well, but also a fairly uninteresting provincial town. Until...

Until…what?

Here’s why all the geography matters: It is generally accepted that the First Crusade kicked off largely because Alexios I Comnenus, the then-current Byzantine Emperor, requested aid from Western Europe against the Muslim Seljuq Turks. Byzantium often recruited mercenaries from Western Europe; the Normans (aka the Vikings), who had settled Normandy and southern Italy in the past century were frequent hires. Hence those runes in the Hagia Sophia.

Meanwhile in Western Europe, the Pope – Urban II – was having difficulty with the current Emperor, and was eager to heal the Schism and establish the primacy of the Roman church. He declared that an expedition to aid the Byzantines would have the blessing of the church, and that a new kind of pilgrimage – an armed pilgrimage – was religiously acceptable, if aimed against the enemies of Christendom.

Pilgrimages (travelling to holy sites, such as churches that held saints’ relics) were a major part of European Christianity at the time and many people went on pilgrimage in their lives, so this was a familiar concept. Western Europe was also somewhat overpopulated with knights – don’t think plate armour, this is 1096, think very murderous rich men with good swords – who could always use forgiveness, on account of all the murder. The Roman Catholic church, unlike the Eastern Orthodox church, also subscribed to the concept of ‘just war’, that war could be acceptable for the right reasons. And so a whole lot of nobles from the area of modern France, Belgium, England, Germany, and Italy decided that this new Crusade thing was something they wanted in on – and they took several armies with them.

I’m going to skip over a bunch of stuff involving the People’s Crusade (a popular movement of poorer people, got literally slaughtered in Anatolia), the massacres of Jews in Eastern Europe, and a lot of battles, but the takeaway is this: Alexios probably thought he was getting mercenaries. He got a popular religious movement that, somewhat unfortunately, actually achieved its goal (Jerusalem), did next to nothing to solve his Anatolia problem, and gave a succession of Popes a convenient outlet for errant knights, nobles, and rulers: going on Crusade.

How many were there?

Official Crusades that anybody cares about: Nine, technically. Crusade-like military events that immortal soldiers might have got involved with, plus local stoushes in Outremer: way more. WAY more.

The First Crusade (1096-1099): First and original, set a frankly (heh) terrible precedent, founded the Crusader States and captured Jerusalem. Only regarded as a clash of civilisations by the Western Christians involved. For the local Muslims it was just another day at the ‘Byzantium hires Frankish mercenaries to make our lives difficult’ office.

The Crusade of 1101: Everybody who peaced out on the First Crusade hurried to prove they were actually up for it, once the remaining First Crusaders took Jerusalem. Didn’t do much.

The Second Crusade (1147-1150): The County of Edessa falls, Eleanor of Aquitaine happens (my fave), the only winners are the people who semi-accidentally conquer Lisbon (in Portugal) (but from Muslim rulers so that…counts?).

The Third Crusade (1189-1192): You all know this one because it has RICHARD THE LIONHEART and SALADIN. Much Clash of Civilisations, very Noble, did enough to keep the remaining Crusader kingdoms going but access to Jerusalem for Christian pilgrims was obtained by treaty, not conquest. Indirectly responsible for the Robin Hood mythos when Richard gets banged up in prison on the way home and is away from England for ages.

The Fourth Crusade (1202-1204): Aims for Jerusalem, ends up sacking the Eastern Orthodox city of Constantinople, just not a great time for anybody, more or less the eventual cause of the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans in 1453.

The Fifth Crusade (1217-1221): Still going for Jerusalem, starts with Cairo instead, does not get anywhere it wants to even after allying with the Anatolian Sultanate of Rum, making the whole ‘Christians vs Muslims’ thing even murkier than it already was post the Fourth Crusade.

The Sixth Crusade (1228-1229): Somehow these things are still going. Nobody even does very much fighting. Access to Jerusalem is negotiated by treaty, yet again.

The Seventh, Eight, and Ninth Crusades: Seriously nobody cares anymore and also nobody is trying very hard. Kings have better things to do, mostly. People end up in Egypt a lot. We covered these in one lecture and I have forgotten all of it.

The Albigensian Crusade (1209-1229): Why take a three-year trip to the Holy Land to fight pagans when you can fight the ones in your own backyard (southern France), AND take their stuff? Famously the source of the probably apocryphal ‘Kill them all, God will know His own’ quote, regarding the massacre of most of a city harbouring Cathars (a Christian sect deemed heretical).

Can we circle back to that ‘massacres of Jews’ bit? WTF?

Crusades, historically, were Not A Good Time for Jewish communities in Europe; when Christians were riled up to go and Fight The Infidel, it was a lot quicker to massacre local Jews than travel to the Holy Land. Also, then you could take their stuff. I will note here that it is VERY TACKY to use historical pogroms as backdrops for your non-Jewish main characters so keep this in mind but, like, use with extreme caution in fanfic, okay? Generally life was a lot easier for Jewish communities in Muslim-ruled states in this period, which is why so many Hispanic Jews ended up in Turkey after they were expelled from Spain.

What were they really about, then?

Historians still Have Opinions about this. Genuine religious fervour was absolutely a key motivator, especially of the First Crusade. The ability to wage war sanctioned by the Church, or to redeem your local sins by going and fighting against the pagans, was part of that, too. Control of key trade routes to the East was probably not not a part of it. The Crusader States were definitely Baby’s First Experiment With Settler Colonialism, and paved the theological and rhetorical ground for the colonisation of the Americas. But many individuals on the Christian side would absolutely have believed they were doing God’s work. The various Muslim rulers and certainly the local Christian, Jewish, and Muslim inhabitants of the Holy Land itself were mostly just getting invaded by Franks. As time wound on the Crusades became more and more political (frequently featuring intra-religious violence and inter-religious alliances) and less and less about their forever nominal goal, control of Jerusalem.

How’s Wikipedia on this?

Basically not too bad but I’m not totally confident on some of the bits about motivation (see: white supremacists love this period, ugh.)

Why did they stop?

The prospect of re-taking Jerusalem vanished entirely as the Ottoman Empire centralised and took a firm hold over most of the Levant (and made inroads into Europe, as far as Austria, taking Constantinople in 1453 and finally ending the continuous Roman Empire), the Spanish Reconquista and various intra-European conflicts (the Hundred Years’ War, for example) absorbed military attention, and then the Reformation happened and half of Europe stopped listening to the Pope and started stabbing each other over who was the right kind of Christian. But the concept lingered; white supremacists love the Crusades. Which is why it is a very good idea to be sparing with Crusader imagery around Niccolò in fanfic set in the modern era, and please for fuck’s sake stop with the ‘crugayders’ tag, Yusuf wasn’t a Crusader.

What other fun facts should I keep in mind re: Nicky | Nicolò and Joe | Yusuf?

· Genoa is not the same as Italy; Nicolò is Nicolò di Genova and would have spoken Genoese (Ligurian) and considered himself to be Genoese. Italian as a language didn’t really exist yet. The language he and Yusuf would most likely have had in common was the ‘lingua franca’ (Frankish language, literally) of the Mediterranean trading region, a pidgin based heavily on maritime Italian languages. Yusuf 300% would have thought of him as a ‘Frank’ (the generic term for Western Christians) and probably annoyed him by calling him that until at least 1200 or so.

· Yusuf is apparently from ‘Maghrib’, which I assume means al-Maghrib/the Maghreb (as his actor is IIRC of Tunisian descent), i.e. North Africa. He could have had relatives in al-Andalus (southern modern Spain), he may have spoken languages other than Arabic natively (Mozarabic or Berber), his native area had universities before Europe did. Basically: this is as useful as saying he’s ‘from Europe’, do better backstory writers.

· Taking the whole ‘Nicky used to be a priest’ backstory at face value: being a priest in 1096 looked pretty different to how it did even 200 years later. They were still working on the celibacy thing. The famous monastic orders were still forming. Some priests could and did hold lands and go to war (this wasn’t common but it happened, especially if they were nobles by birth). Nicolò di Genova would not necessarily have seen a conflict between going on Crusade and being a priest, is what I’m getting at. If he was ALSO trained as a knight, he was from a wealthy family; it took the equivalent several villages to support a knight.

· ‘Period-typical homophobia’ is going to look very different for this period. They are NOT getting beaten up for holding hands. Or sharing a bed! Or even kissing, depending on the circumstances! I am not an expert on Islamic sexual mores of the era but Christian ones were heavily on the side of ‘unsanctioned sex is bad, sanctioned (marital) sex is slightly less bad’, and there was no concept of ‘being gay’. An interfaith relationship would be in some ways more of a problem for them than the same-sex one (and in some ways less difficult to navigate than a heterosexual interfaith relationship.) The past is another country.

· Look just no more fanfics where Yusuf is trying to learn ‘Italian’ in the early twelfth century I am BEGGING you all

#the old guard #history #finally that BA gets a workout #fourteen years later

2K notes · View notes

papers4me · 3 years ago

Text

Fruits Basket Manga Review (ch 90-91)

Since I discussed the first few pages of ch-90 that contains kyo & tohru in my previous preview, this one will only be kyoko’s story.

Kyoko’s story brilliantly explores the effects of unhealthy domestic environment on children without the use of the zodiac curse as a metaphor for abuse. My first-reaction of kyoko’s story is the following:

I really enjoyed how kyoko’s descend into darkness was explored & how the psychologically-informed writing of her behavior was depicted.

I was troubled by how Katsuya was presented as the magical solution to all her problems. Kyoko was saved by romantic love in a more basic writing than machi. Both girls just needed a guy to listen to them vent abt their family issues once & tada~ they’re in love.

Kyoko’s story made me realize that Arisa is just a more modern & healthier kyoko.. The only difference is that Kureno didn’t save Arisa. She herself changed gradually due to kyoko & tohru’s influence.

1) Kyoko’s descend into Darkness:

Kyokyo told kyo that she was already “out of control delinquent before she got to middle school”, “ fell into the wrong crowd”, “ enjoyed beating innocent ppl”. subtly citing the influence of “delinquent peers” & the innate desire be noticed at home. I’m bad, notice me! love me, listen to me!

There are some elements in her story that faintly reminds me of yuki & strongly reminds me of kyo:

Kyoko’s parents gave her a treatment similar to “ yuki’s parents”: cold, neglect & devoid of love. Her dad, similar to kyo’s dad, felt ashamed & disgraced by her.

Kyoko similarly to kyo was angry, full of self-loath & self-destruction. However, kyo was never violent like she was. I believe kyo’d have turned like her if he didn’t have Kazuma to discipline him with love, care & attention. Hence, we saw kyo carry on a code of “ not beating girls, or ppl who aren’t hurting them, or don’t know martial arts”, like Arisa or the student council guy whop loves yuki.

Kyoko’s mom similarly of kyo’s mom talked abt the dad venting his anger on her after being pissed off with kyoko. So, a hint of domestic violence between husband & wife.

Kyoko described herself as “ made of shattered glass”. Tohru once said both kyo & yuki are very sensitive. yuki blocks the world behind the prince mask & kyo puts on the annoyed attitude to push ppl away from hurting him.

Society thinks that “delinquent/bad ppl” are always happy with what they’ve become. Satisfied with their destructive choices. When in most of the times... they’re as bewildered & confused as the community around them..

I really don’t blame the teachers for being defensive. Teachers aren’t supposed to be “life-coaches” or “saviors of students”. That’s sth the educators with their research gush abt & what society demands & what families wish for. The fixer-teacher!!!! Teachers are ppl teaching a subject, doing a specific job, underpaid & overworked most of the times, also, they come from various backgrounds, beliefs, & sometimes even if they meant good & wanted to “ save” a student, they aren’t equipped with the suitable psychological training. Yeah, there are ppl for that in schools, but so many students with lots of issues. Also, let’s be real, we love kyoko cuz she’s the “epic mother of tohru, we grew on her teachings thro out 3 seasons” but if you meet a loud, delinquent, gangster head, violent chair throwing student who rarely comes anyway, would you wanna deal with them?

2- Katsuya “ the magical savior”:

so, why did teacher katsuya helped a screaming delinquent? cuz he IS interested in kyoko. He said so. He approached her, talked & tried to help cuz he intended to “never let her go since he saw her honesty” ~ romantic? maybe to some.. I find it weird & creepy. him eyeing her & getting interested & approaching her & earning her trust. It is true that he has no intention of hurting her or forcing her & he DID save her in more ways than one. But why is this all wrapped in romance. He DID flirt with her intentionally many times from the moment he saw her until then.

If Im being honest, had he not be her teacher (trainee or not), & had she not be very veeeeery young! I’d be enjoying his flirting so much. He’s so smooth, playful & cool (not looking head over heels in love) which is normally such a fun dynamics. She was so head over heels, tho. Finally found someone who noticed her tiny efforts “ drawing eyebrows”, someone who listened & someone who didn’t forced her to do her “duties”. She tells him (her teacher) that she is ditching classes & he’s okay with that~ not lecturing, not urging. why? cuz He only wants HER. she comes to see him in the lunch break everyday. school? classes? that’s her choice~ not his business~ In a way, Katsuya is intentionally made not morally correct. Why? cuz a good moral adult wouldn’t be in love with a middle schooler & would care for her future as an independent person from him. He must be written with intentional desire to NOT care for morals or right or the likes. Yes, he later helps her to study & graduate but ONLY when that is HER choice & she made it ONLY to catch up with him. To cleanse herself & be “ like the other girls” . Kyoko deemed katsuya “ good person” & herself “ bad person”. That’s why she was motivated to be good to catch up with him since she can NO LONGER see him everyday in lunch break. He fixed that. How? teach her in the weekends & provide better chances to flirt since he’s no longer a teacher & she’s his student. The issue is not teacher-student love... it is adult-kid love!! but hey~ they’re cute (they’re written to be, so they are) so it’s cool ( it isn’t at all..eww).. oh the dilemma that is Takaya-san’s love for weird big age gaps where one is an underage teenager...

Furuba’s has this big theme of “ love doesn’t heal or save”. yuki took tohru’s love & grew up by himself. Kyo’s love for tohru didn’t save tohru, she was scared to be in love & forget her mom. Tohru made the decision to be free from her past, herself. Tohru’s love to kyo made his trauma 10 times more complicated & he acted based on his love for her & decided to leave her. It wasnt until he decided to face his trauma, past & bio dad by himself, that he accepted tohru’s love. Only two characters were totally saved by love:

Machi: has the excuse of being solely created to be yuki’s reward for acknowledging platonic love for tohru & everything abt her is rushed & made as a lighter copy of all yuki’s issues to quickly create shared grounds for them to connect. Machi needed to vent her issues to yuki once & all her issues were never brought back to the service again. She was happier, calmer & healed.

I expected more for kyoko. She IS a bigger character than half of the zodiacs! but she just needed katsuya to listen to her & she was in love & her issues solved.

I don’t deny that it IS true that sometimes all we need is someone to listen to us. Tohru herself said so & even yuki said it to kyo. But Even if someone listen to us & we love them, the issues that troubled us dont magically disappear until we face them or do sth abt them aided by those who love us. Kyo’s issues remained even with his love until he faced them, tohru’s too!

Katsuya:

had off-screen issues with expressing himself. He said that he loved kyoko cuz she was “honest abt her ugly feelings” while he pretended to “humor & please his dad”. He gave a wonderful speech to her parents abt the expectations of parents on their kids & the refusal of their “human weakness” again furuba’s main vision. Unfortunately, this was followed with confessing, marriage proposal & kissing her on the lips all while the whole issue is abt kids/ parents exceptions of middle schooler/ neglect & his own acknowledgement that she’s minor while he was “in love”.

Like the author wants to tie kyoko’s issues & katsuya’s issues so bad & present him as her ONLY chance for normal life. Kyoko was just repenting & understanding that her actions got consequences which is an epic moment! but romance triumphant & saved the day~ yay~! marriage!

The story would’ve been better romantically if it was given time for kyoko to “ grow up” just like katsuya himself said when they were at the beach. He said “ grow up, middle school is not the world”. He continued meeting her but never confessed & never crossed the line despite the flirting. But he KNEW what he was doing “ i never planned to let you go since I saw you”. He was cementing his place as the ONLY one in her world.

Had kyoko grew up, saw the real world, kept taps with katsuya, he helped her broaden her world, then they’ll marry without needing her dad to sign papers, then that would be a better love story than this.

Side Notes:

The writer didn’t shy away from confessing that pairing Katsuya & kyoko is problematic & stated it in canon (kyoko called katsuya “pedo”). She did the same with Arisa & kureno (Arisa thought the age gap is big & hana questioned if kureno is a married man). However, making the story acknowledge that as an issues doesn’t make it less uncomfortable, but at least, I respect when writers do what they plan to do regardless of fans. even if I dont agree with the writer. It’s way better than when writer becoming fans toy/ fans pleaser.

Still, couldn’t the author state that kyoko was held back few years in jmiddle school & failed & repeated school years? like make her i duno 17 or sth... this would at least lessen the big age gap... but no~~~ kyoko is what? 14? ... -_-’.

You bet this won’t change a bit in the upcoming anime spinoff abt kyoko. Just this year an anime abt an adult man & his high school love interest that he pursued stubbornly was highly popular & my real life friends were gushing abt “ him finally winning her/ being respectful & only kissing her lips once or sth/waiting for her to “catch up” with him”/ consent age differ in X & Y countries..I’m not dictating my beliefs on anybody or any country or saying my way of thinking is the just way. I’m saying, Personally, I think, there are better romantic stories than adults & kids couples.. The fact that this trope of (adults & kids romance) is still popular even today is sad~~

I dont mind HUGE age gaps as long as BOTH characters are adults. If any of them makes a crime, they’ll be held responsible by the law. & sometimes the younger adult is the one dominating the relationship. but “kids or teenagers” can’t. They’re easily groomed & manipulated, so it bothers me when a love story between an adult & a kid is portrayed as “equal”. it isn’t.

I’m not judging whoever loves such trope in “ fiction”. it IS fiction, & as long as you don't pursue a real kid/teenager in real life, you can like whatever in fiction. moving on~

kyoko’s delinquent life is well-written & if done right, would send a powerful message of being able to start over. But the romantic love aspect will steal the spotlight by (a) directing uncomfortable hate/disgust towards the story & hence all the discussions will abt the “pedo” aspect. (which is fair). (b) Perceived as so lovable romance since katsuya is the prince who to saved the neglected princess which is a trope that has stood thro time garnering lots of support & attention always, so all the discussion would be abt their “cute romance”. (which is fair since the author weaved elements that endeared their romance, such as: cute nicknames “miss no-eyebrows”, him giving her space, home & respect, saving her from the streets & poverty & having the most endearing tohru”. So, yeah, the romance will be the center of attention regardless.

I like katsuya’s character type in fiction generally: the flirty, mischievous & a bit cool guy who is so aware he’s wrong most times & plays his cards smart to not get caught red-handed. He’s a cooler version of shigure. It’s just the blatant fact that he’s been planning to “get” a middle schooler from the first glance & that she is wayyyy young for this, that is bothering me so so much~~ T_T.

I wont expect the anime to change their age gap cuz it is the essence of their story that she’s a lost kid with no protection against the world & he’s the savior providing everything at once!~ Remember kyoko went on to be the savior of an entire clan tho tohru~ So in a way, katsuya saved the sohmas by saving kyoko....

“ i’m like a stray cat that he looked after instead of chasing away”. kyoko with katsuya is like kyo with kazuma! >_<!. When kyo met tohru, he wasn’t a stray cat, most of how he dealt with her was cuz he already knew her & was tormented by remembering kyoko’s death & feeling guilty towards tohru’s constant pain. That’s why when kyo started falling in love with tohru, he unconsciously stopped pushing her away little by little & just wanted to be with her until akito said “ i’ll hurt her” that’s when he totally gave up.

the way katsiya appeared in the right moment to save kyoko from her dad~ oh the drama. XD

Hospital Discharge & chase. like mom like daughter~ but thank God the kids got a more balanced love story.

Comparing kyoko/katsuya to Arisa/kureno in the broad writing of their romance without diving into details: (a) I hate the age gap in both but at least Arisa is older & nothing happened until she graduates & become an official adult. (b) Kyoko/katsuya are more fleshed out & if you forget the age gap,m their dynamic is so cute & endearing. (c) the love at first glance, never meeting afterwards yet still sickly in love to the extinct of screaming made Arisa/kureno shallower. (d) now that I saw teenage kyoko, Arisa is really just her clone! I hate that this steals from Arisa’s uniqueness. (e) both couples ate ramen in their first meeting/first unofficial date signalling their blooming love.

I’ve said this more than once, but I was the high-schooler that fancied adult independent men growing up, I never pursued anyone tho cuz I understood it was a crush even tho I’m pretty sure my “ *_*” face was clear to one or two, but I’m definitely lucky none of them tried to woo me or influence me. Now that I’m a grown woman, I think back & laugh at my self. I fancied them cuz they were independent & mature compared to the silly high school boys, which is what those men are supposed to be (adults) & what those boys are supposed to be (living their young age). lol. Still, I wish I found someone somehow to be my life’s partner since then, it would’ve made my life less lonely~ T_T.

#Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #manga reviwes #anime-only #tired paper #my thoughts are so scattered #& unorganized #I apologize for the mess #ch 90 #ch 91

27 notes · View notes

banashee · 4 years ago

Link

Part 4 of my @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Undeserved Reputation

Please mind the tags and warnings!

Moving on together

The people at SHIELD know better than to outright bully someone. No, they are way more subtle about it. Usually.

Clint doesn’t expect anything less than cold, dirty looks when he sets foot onto the Helicarrier for the first time since the Battle of New York. For the first time since Natahsa knocked him unconscious to get Loki out of his brain, the first time since the world almost ended.

It is bound to be an interesting day.

Piercing eyes glare as Clint is making his way past, but no one dares to say anything. He is walking with the other Avengers and he is well aware that this is the only reason they keep it down. Once they’ll get him alone, well. That will be another story.

He can’t hear them - his aids are good, but they are not that finetuned - but he knows that there are whispers and hushed conversations as soon as his back is turned. Very carefully, he doesn’t react. His fingers are twitching in an attempt not to curl into fists and his jaw is clamped shut so tightly that it makes his teeth and muscles hurt. Under different circumstances, Clint wouldn’t care about them.

Any other day, if only things had gone differently, he would be a lot more level headed, but as it is, Clint is responsible for a lot of deaths, injuries and damages. Mind controlled or not, it doesn’t matter. Certainly not to his - former? - coworkers.

The thoughts make his heart race way too fast, and Clint is faintly aware that his hands are getting sweaty.

The next time he’s at SHIELD, he is alone but the rest is pretty much the same. Looks, distant muttering he can’t make out. In the meeting room, no one wants a seat close to him and people do their best to ignore his presence whenever possible - talking over him, not passing the relevant papers to him - it’s small things like that, but Clint notices. Of course he does.

He keeps his face neutral and pretends like it doesn’t sting.

When Clint walks out that night, in a half dark, empty hallway, he isn’t surprised when the group of four Agents jumps him.

“Traitor” they call him while two of them hold him in place while the others break his nose and dislocate a kneecap. There are other, much more crass and personal insults, but “traitor” sticks - it hits a nerve.

Clint doesn’t even try to fight back, and that’s probably the worst part. He deserves this, he thinks, so he doesn’t even bother to fight them off. Maybe they’ll leave it once they get the anger out of their systems.

The attack doesn’t take long, but Clint knows how little time is really necessary to cause damage.

The other Agents leave him in the dark hallway, bleeding, dizzy and in pain. It’s only when Fury himself of all people comes across him, that he is brought into medical. The director doesn’t say anything that Clint could remember, and his face is unreadable as always.

They treat his injuries and treat him like air after that. Clint isn’t surprised.

He leaves right after. No one stops him from limping down the hallway and out into the night.

Clint is empty and numb. He forgets to take his painkillers, forgets to eat. The painkillers barely make a dent, anyway. He wasn’t given anything by SHIELD doctors, so he has to make do with over the counter stuff. It’s a joke.

All he wants to do is sleep for about a year, but not even that works out.

If he wasn’t so goddamn tired, he probably would have seriously hurt himself by now. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing that he doesn’t.

Soon after, the world security council finally gets tired of waiting. Clint knows this, and truth be told, he’d expected to be taken away and locked up much, much sooner. But it happens, and just like when he was attacked, he doesn’t resist.

They constantly prob him with questions and needles, voices just as cold as their touch. Clint answers questions mechanically, wondering when it’ll stop and what they’re going to do to him. He hopes that at least, it'll be quick.

What he doesn’t expect is to be sent off with a slap on the back after three months.

There must be a mistake, he thinks, and even back home in his apartment, Clint can’t sleep, can’t relax. People are calling him, but he never answers. At some point, he opens a message from an unknown number:

“Since you’re not answering calls: Drop by the Tower any time you want to, we’re bringing the band together. Speaking of, bring Romanoff, she keeps ignoring me.”

Must be Stark, he figures, but isn’t sure what to say. So he just types,

“OK”

and throws his phone back onto the table.

Clint stays awake for days on end, until he physically can’t handle it for any longer and passes out. If he is lucky, he ends up on the couch or in bed. He’ll curl up on the bathroom floor if he’s not.

Any given time, he expects to be taken away again and he can barely breathe with fear.

When one day, his front door opens and the vibrations of footsteps come closer, he expects rough hands and a cold voice. A blade against his throat, the nozzle of a gun against his temple, anything.

What he doesn’t expect is Natasha in his personal space.

“Oh, hi.” His voice feels like sandpaper.

“Did they send you to finish me off?” Clint asks her, and stares at him in disbelief for a moment. Then, a deep sadness seems to be radiating off of her.

“No, of course not.” she looks right at him, making it easier to read lips. Natasha reaches out, slowly enough for him to pull away - he doesn’t. Her touch against his cheek is the most warm and gentle thing he’s felt in months, and Clint can’t help but lean into it. He hadn't even realized how touch-starved he must have been the whole time.

Natasha leans into him, too. Open and unguarded affection is rare with her, but Clint has always been one of the very few lucky people to recieve it. Despite their history, he still isn’t sure he deserves it.

“And even if they did - I wouldn’t do it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.”

Natasha moves closer, until they sit in a tight embrace. Clint isn’t 100% sure, but he is quite certain that both of them are crying. Most importantly though, he believes her. How could he not? His best friend is all he’s got left at this point.

*+~

It’s a strange thing, how so many years spent frozen in cryo, again and again after each mission, can leave such an impression. When it comes down to it, Bucky wasn’t awake for more than a few years at most, but it feels a lot longer than that. He feels older than he is - tired. So tired of everything that life has thrown on him.

Due to some sort of miracle, Bucky manages to escape from Hydra for long enough to become a little bit more Bucky and a little less Soldier. The longer it lasts, the more he remembers, and he is terrified out of his mind.

He doesn’t sleep - instead, he watches the news on a grainy, old TV in the little apartment he found, reads the papers.

They’re looking for him, wanting to lock him up for all of the murders and crimes. Bucky can’t blame them - he knows how much of a security risk he is, hence him staying away from people as much as he can. Part of him agrees that he should be locked up in a windowless cell to rot. The other, slightly selfish part of him wants to experience freedom, wants to live. Just live, nothing more.

None of the things he did for Hydra was his choice. But then again, the Soldier doesn’t know choice, only obedience. Bucky is tired of it.

Sometimes, he thinks back to that fateful day in DC. He’d almost killed Steve, then. That in itself is bad enough, but the worst part is, the stubborn bastard would have let him.

This, of all things, scares Bucky the most. It’s why he hides from Steve, too, because he knows he is trying to find him.

Eventually, he does.

How in the world Steve manages to convince him to come with him to the Avengers Tower in Manhattan, he couldn’t tell. It might have something to do with the fact that he always had a hard time to say “no” to his best friend - 90 pounds soaking wet or built like a brick wall, it doesn’t matter. On the inside, he’s still the stubborn, loyal kid from Brooklyn who is family to him. He’ll always love that guy, no matter what, so he finally agrees to come with him.

“Home”, Steve says, but this might be pushing it. Bucky will be happy if he doesn’t accidentally kill anybody when he next freaks out.

When he first arrives there, tense and ready to bolt at any second, things don’t go nearly as bad as he’d feared. No one seems to be worried or awkward, which is impressive. They simply welcome him, as if he was any other new housemate and that’s it - if the surprise is showing on his face, no one comments on it.

Steve shows him around for a bit, which he is grateful for. Having someone he knows close by helps, and he relaxes a bit. At least, he does until he finds out that they gave him an apartment big enough to fit any entire army - all for himself. Bucky is more than a little overwhelmed by it. He’s never had so much space for himself, never would have dared to dream of it. But now it’s given to him, just like that, and he can’t help but blurt out

“I don’t deserve this - Steve, there must be a mistake, this can’t be for me”

“It is, Buck. It’s all yours. You deserve nice things.” Steve gently puts an arm around him and Bucky dives into the hug, if only to hide the fact that he is starting to tear up.

Getting used to being a person again is hard.

After the majority of hydra’s brainwashing has worn off, Bucky has spent those days and weeks in a constant state of either numb or terrified and very little in between. Always tense, always on the lookout for another threat.

Now, he is in a safe environment with people who know who he is and what he did and they don’t seem to mind. It’s strange, to walk into a room and get offered a seat, a drink or a plate of food - whatever it is that everyone else is having.

At first, he doesn’t talk much, and people seem to accept that. As it is, Stark talks enough on his own for all of them combined, so that helps, too. Bucky likes to listen, though, just being part of the group without inserting himself too much. It works, for the most part, but some days, he can’t stand being in the company of others for too long. He gets anxious then, and Steve especially worries about him. But even though he knows he means well, Steve hovering and trying with everything he’s got to fix everything wrong doesn’t help at all. Most days, Bucky doesn’t have the heart to tell him this.

One particularly bad day, Bucky hides in a utility closet of all places when he can hear his best friend calling for him. He means well, he knows that, but he just can’t deal with his hovering now. So Bucky leaps to the nearest door, opens it and closes it behind him as quickly and quietly as humanly possible. He finds himself in a dark, cramped room and he almost gets hit with a mop when he turns to what he hopes might be something usable to sit on. Only, it’s soft and when he lowers himself the “chair” clears its throat and then says,

“So, this is awkward.”

Bucky almost jumps out of his skin, but he is ridiculously proud that he didn’t start screaming - or more likely, throwing punches.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here.” he scrambles up from what he is pretty sure was Barton’s lap, almost knocking over a bucket with cleaning supplies.

“No harm done. Are you ok?” Clint asks, and scoots over to the side to make space for Bucky to sit down before he breaks his neck on a broom or something.

The ridiculousness of the situation actually startles a bark of laughter out of Bucky - it’s been a long time.

“Sorry. I’m just… Hiding, I guess. What about you?”

“Same.”

Bucky can feel the other man shrug next to him, and he looks over in his direction. His eyes are slowly getting used to the dark.

“How come?” he finds himself asking, before he can even stop himself. ‘This is none of your business’ he scolds himself in the privacy of his own head, but there is nothing about this situation that isn’t weird. To his great surprise, Clint actually answers.

“Had a meeting at SHIELD. It… didn’t go too well… I guess I don’t want to answer any questions about it or see anyone getting mad on my behalf. It is what it is.” he shrugs again, but he doesn’t sound half as casual as he is trying for.

Bucky has read his file - he’s read everyone's file - and his guess is that this is absolutely fair. He wouldn’t want to talk, either. As a matter of fact, he is hiding for very similar reasons.

“Yeah, I get that.” he says, leaning his head on the wall behind him, closing his eyes for a moment.

Next to him, Clint hums in agreement.

“You would.” and then, after a pause, he continues, “Hey, tell you what. If you ever get tired of hanging out next to the cleaning supplies, there is a pretty decent access point to the rooftop near the elevator at my level. The view is nice.”

This is not what Bucky expected to hear at all and it takes him off guard. It’s not just a nice gesture, it’s the offer to use a (more or less) secret hiding place where people won’t come looking right away.

“Thank you.” he says quietly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“No. I get the urge to get away when things are shitty, so…” he shrugs. “Besides, I don’t mind your company.”

With that, and a light tap to his metal shoulder, Clint get’s up, climbs over the fallen mop and to the door before Bucky can say anything to that last statement. Then, Clint turns around, with a mischievous grin on his face.

“I could make a real corny joke about coming out of the closet right now.”

Laughing kinda hurts his throat, but it feels so good to be able to do this - Bucy surprises himself with it.

“You’re terrible!” he accuses, but doesn’t mean it at all.

“I know. See ya around, Barnes.”

The next time they meet, it’s fuck-o clock in the morning and Bucky is staring at the toaster oven in the communal kitchen as if attempting to set it on fire with his eyes. The bagels in it are not impressed and don’t toast any quicker.

Clint is shuffling past Bucky, with a low grunt that could mean just about everything, and makes a beeline for the coffee machine. The noise and movement is enough for Bucky to stop glaring at his food and look over though.

Clint looks like a hot mess - well, more so than he usually does. He’s in pyjamas that could stay up on their own at this point, and his hair sticks up in every direction, as if he spent a good amount of time tossing and turning in bed before giving up on sleep. The purple bags under his eyes are another indicator for that.

He watches silently, as Clint pours not one or two, but six whole espresso shots into one of the giant mugs they keep in the kitchen. Bucky’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“Does that even taste good?” he asks, unsurprised when Clint shakes his head.

“No. But it works.” He shrugs, trying to seem casual, but he can’t hide the tremors in his hands as he pours mug after mug in the bigger one on the counter.

‘Do you want to talk?’ is a dumb question, for one, and Bucky can already guess that the answer is ‘no’ so he doesn’t ask it. He knows these kinds of nights - hell, he is having one himself, hence the midnight snack.

The ‘pling’ of the toaster oven makes both of them jump a bit, and Bucky prepares his food while Clint starts making another mug of too-much-espresso for himself.

Both of them sit down by the table, eventually. They don’t talk, but having silent company of someone who understands, makes breathing a little easier.

When the sun goes up behind the large windows in the living room, they start a pot of coffee and then leave the kitchen. As they depart, they do so with a slight shoulder bump and nothing more.

But meeting up in sleepless nights becomes a thing after that.

The next time, Bucky is actually hiding again.

About half an hour earlier, he wakes up drenched in sweat, clawing at his throat and screaming from a very vivid nightmare. This right here is the reason he avoids sleep whenever he can.

Faintly, he can make out JARVIS asking him if he is in need of assistance, but Bucky shakes his head ‘no’ vehemently. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, not even Steve.

He knows he’d come to comfort and stay with him in a heartbeat, but he’ll worry. More so than he already does, and Bucky doesn’t want that for him. His best friend is happy, and he doesn’t deserve to be dragged down. Steve would very much disagree and he knows it.

So, Bucky remains alone in bed, hands fisted into the sheets and letting the storm pass over him.

When his breathing is more even again, he’s got a headache and he’s still shaky, but Bucky knows that staying here won’t help. He needs some air - and also a place to hide out for a bit.

The conversation with Clint the other day comes back to his mind, but he hesitates. Should he really go there? Well, it was offered to him, after all.

He gets out of bed and into the elevator.

Just like Clint said, the access point is pretty easy to find - for people like them who are always on the lookout. Bucky climbs up, and the night air hits him in the face. It feels good - soothing.

With a sigh, he sits down on the concrete floor and leans against the wall.

The sight really is beautiful - he can see pretty far from up here, and the lights of the city below have their own charme. It’s different than he is used to - much louder, busier and a lot more neon lights, but it’s not bad. New York is still home, after all.

His thoughts are particularly overwhelming that night. Bucky’s brain is a mess on a good day, and trying to sort it out is hard. Memories are chopped and muddled. Sometimes, he can’t make out faces or voices of people he knows were important to him while others stand out clear as a day.

Bucky can’t remember what his Mom looked like, or if he had sisters, but he’ll always remember the faces of the people he killed. Every single one of them.

‘ I’m sorry ’ he thinks, over and over, ‘ I’m so sorry .’

He still hasn’t found a therapist that doesn’t make his skin crawl, as much as he would like to. How someone would even attempt to treat him, he doesn’t know, but damn it if he doesn’t want to try. Bucky wants to live , not just survive.

There is a painful lump in his throat, choking him up. He is trying as hard as he can to swallow it, but fails.

The concrete under him and behind him is hard, and not very comforting and he keeps whispering his mantra, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry’ over and over again, until his voice gives out and all he can do is hold onto sanity with the tips of his fingers.

He doesn’t realize that there are steps coming closer, and he doesn’t realize that someone is calling for him until they change up “Bucky” for “James”

“...James? Are you with me?”

Clint, he realizes, and nods.

“Okay, that’s, that’s good. Can you breathe? Slowly. In - hold - out - in… Yeah, like that. You’re doing well.” He keeps talking to him, like there is nothing odd about it, kneeling on the floor near Bucky, who is equal parts mortified and grateful. Without realizing it, Bucky leans forward until his forehead hits something warm and solid. Human contact - it’s nice. He didn’t get a lot of that in the last few years.

A hand is carefully rubbing his shoulder, and Bucky leans into it without even realizing. Then, Clint asks quietly,

“Is it okay when I come closer?” and Bucky just nods. A moment later, a pair of warm, strong arms wraps around him and he practically melts into the embrace. It’s been a long time since he let himself be held like that, but it feels so good - he doesn’t want it to stop. So, he just does the next logical thing and hugs back.

After a while, breathing is a lot easier, and he doesn’t feel as cold anymore.

“Hey. Can I ask you something?” Bucky asks later that night, when he is still sitting on the roof, next to Clint who has kept him company the whole time.

He blinks, and nods slowly.

“Yeah, sure.”

For a moment, Bucky hesitates.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“...Okay?”

For a while, neither of them says anything. Clint is almost sure that Bucky changed his mind about the question, but then he fixes him with a desperate look in his eyes, and it tells Clint enough so that he can just prepare for it, before Buck asks him,

“How do you cope with it? The Mind Control.”

Clint stays silent for a bit. He is trying to keep his emotions in check, telling himself that he is safe, he is himself and those days are over. Talking about this is hard, and for good reason.

“Honestly? I don’t.” he confesses, forcing himself to look at Bucky. Under normal circumstances, he’d have brushed off a question like this, but this is different - Bucky is different. He understands better than most people what it is like, to be trapped in the back of your mind while someone else takes over, takes control.

“It’s… hard. I was in therapy. Didn’t help much, but that’s because I don’t trust the SHIELD shrinks. It’s a whole thing… And finding someone else is…” He shakes his head, wiping one hand over his face. He hates talking about this, but he figures any common ground might help Bucky.

“I learned to live with it. Kinda. Not well, but. I’m still kickin’, so that’s gotta be worth something. Having something to do and people around you, who you can count on helps. A lot. But… It’s been years. I still have to deal with it. Some days more than others.”

He looks over to Bucky, who listens to every word with an intense stare that is almost uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you anything more helpful. Fuck.” He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound.

“It was about a week for me. I can’t imagine 70-odd years...”

“Hey, no. It’s not a competition. It just sucks.” carefully, he reaches out with one hand. Clint doesn’t pull away - on the contrary, he returns the grip on Bucky’s flesh hand and doesn’t let go.

“Thank you, Clint, for telling me. It means a lot.”

After this one meeting on the roof, the two of them have grown a lot closer. They still don’t talk very much about what happened to them, but knowing that there is another person who understands, really understands what it feels like to be violated in this way - it helps. Bucky and Clint keep each other company whenever possible, spending days together, snarking over the comms when they’re in their respective perches, sharing drinks or snacks at night in their favourite hiding spots, when the company of other people is too much.

They also learn that sleeping together helps to keep their nightmares at bay - at least a bit.

It all starts out one night, where most of the team is out of town for various reasons, and the two of them pretty much have the tower to themselves. Bucky isn’t up for much, and he is curled up on his couch, watching a movie that doesn’t really interest him but is considered a classic, so he vows to suffer through it at least once.

He is almost relieved when a knock on his door interrupts him, but that only lasts until his eyes stop by the clock - it’s two in the morning. Shit.

Bucky is at the door in a matter of seconds, and when he opens it, he is greeted with a very sorry sight.

Clint is standing in front of him, dressed in old, wrinkled pyjamas and he’s shaking like a leaf. His eyes are wide, terrified and rimmed red. He tries to form a sentence, but it gets stuck in his throat, almost turning into a sob. Without thinking, Bucky pulls him into his arms and inside.

He never finds out what exactly was bothering him that night, but the two of them do end up wrapped in blankets and around each other on the couch, with the muted TV still flickering. The caps are on, in case Clint wants to distract himself. He doesn’t wear his ears at the time, and he isn’t really interested in reading anything, be it caps or lips. As it is, he simply holds onto Bucky while he is trying to calm down, trying to ground himself.

One arm remains tightly wrapped around the other man’s waist, while his other hand is moving constantly. He is drawing invisible patterns on his back with light fingertips, and it seems to help him. Bucky himself is enjoying the physical contact a lot, and if he wasn’t so focused on making sure that his friend is okay, he would have fallen asleep on the spot. Instead, he keeps himself busy by playing with the dirty blond strands of hair, combing his fingers through them again and again, even when all the little knots are gone.

Eventually, both of them drift off into sleep. Surprisingly enough, there are no more nightmares for either of them that night.

It’s a thing after this. They spend the nights together whenever possible, falling asleep wrapped around a warm body and holding each other through the nightmares that lurk in the dark corners of their subconsciousness. Company doesn’t erase the trauma or the memories, but it makes it a lot easier to deal with.

The team notices how much better the two of them are doing, too. They seem happy and relieved for them, and occasionally say as much.

“Are you going to tell him?” Natasha asks one evening, from where she is sitting on the carpet in front of Clint while he is braiding and twisting her long red curls into a complicated updo. He hums questioningly, trying not to accidentally swallow one of the hairpins that he’s holding in between his teeth.

“James.” she clarifies, and takes a sip of her tea.

“Tell him what?” Clint asks, and pins another strand of hair in place. He has a feeling where this might go, and he can feel the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. Thank god Nat doesn’t face him right now - not that she needs to. She knows him better than anyone else.

“A hundred bucks say he feels the same as you.” Nat replies instead of answering his question, and Clint huffs a laugh.

“Well, just one BuckY would be enough for me, you know.”

“See, there you go.” she replies, sounding way too smug. And really, when Natasha turns around, there is a lopsided smile on her face, slightly mischievous.

With a heavy sigh, Clint picks up more hair pins from the side table.

“I don’t want to fuck up what we have now. It’s… I trust him, and I like him. A lot. And he trusts me, too, at least as far as I can tell.”

“Of course he does. You two understand each other in a way that not many people do.”

“You understand, Tasha.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to sleep with either of you.”

“That’s your loss.” Clint is grinning, always happy to make corny jokes.

“Oh well, I’ll live.” Natasha is laughing now, and he does, too. For a moment, Clint rests a cheek on her shoulder and she leans into him. The two of them hold onto each other for a bit.

They may not always agree with one another, but they’ve called the other family long before any other person earned that title. They know each other, in a bone deep understanding that is rare for most people. After so many years, there is nothing left but love, trust and honesty.

“You two are good for each other, you know. It’s nice to see that, and you deserve to be happy.”

Later that night, kneeling on his couch with a towel in both hands, Clint is carefully drying off Bucky’s soaked, tangled mess of hair. He just came in from a thunderstorm and resembled a wet, pissed off cat, up until Clint offered to help out.

Doing other people's hair is relaxing, helps him to calm down and focus. Physical contact plays a big part in it, of course, but so does the activity itself. The other plus is that the people he is with tend to enjoy being taken care of, so it’s an arrangement that makes both of them happy.

Natasha went out with Pepper for a Lady’s Night in a local bar, hence the styling, and Bucky just spent the day with Steve and Sam around town. The weather turned on their way back, and naturally, no one carried an umbrella.

So when Bucky turns up on Clint’s doorstep, soaking wet and with a dark scowl, he steers him straight towards the bathroom, throwing a big towel over the heater and a change of clothes into the sink on the way there, telling him to get warmed up.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes already, huh?” Bucky jokes, with is met with

“I’ll buy you dinner, first.” and then the door is thrown shut behind him so he can shower and change in peace.

‘ Jeez Barton, obvious much. ’ Clint thinks on his way to the kitchen, where he starts a pot of coffee for both of them and tries very hard to stay busy and not think too much.

A few minutes later, the coffee is done and Bucky is sitting in front of Clint, head slightly tilted back for him to reach. He is wearing his borrowed clothes, which are a bit short on him, but luckily, Clint likes his lounge clothes big and comfy, unlike the tight shirts he tends to wear out. Bucky would have burst those at the seams, especially with the metal arm. He is not that much taller than Clint, and the archer is far from scrawny, but it doesn’t change the fact that Bucky can pick him up like a sack of potatoes when he wants to.

Damn supersoldiers.

Clint squeezes the rest of the water out of Bucky’s hair with a towel, careful to get every single strand of it. Then he starts to detangle the knots with his fingers, gently running them through the thick, dark hair that is long enough to reach past Bucky’s shoulders by now.

The feeling of fingers running through his hair, tugging gently and massaging his scalp make him melt into the touch. He soaks up every bit of gentle touch and tenderness like a sponge, and by the time his hair is only slightly damp and brushed through completely, his head has fallen back against Clint’s chest and he hums happily, especially because the touch doesn’t stop once his hair is done. Clint keeps running his fingers through his hair, occasionally brushing a cheek with his thumb and stroking over the bit of stubble there, and Bucky loves every second of it.

He didn’t think he’d get to experience something like this ever again, let alone be comfortable with someone coming this close to him. But he is lucky enough to be here, and that means the world to him.

It’s moments like this where Bucky thinks he should just say something - tell Clint how he feels, in the hopes that it’s mutual. Which, if he is to believe Natasha and Steve, who have both been bugging him like annoyingly correct shoulder-angels, is the case.

“Are you about to fall asleep on me?” Clint asks him with a hint of humor in his voice, but he keeps scratching his scalp and his hands are so incredibly warm, it’s all Bucky can do to hum in agreement and snuggle closer.

He realizes that suddenly, he is pulled sideways, but doesnt protest, because it means that both of them are laying down now, which only gives him better access to snuggle into Clint, who puts away his ears and wraps a blanket around both of them. Once they’re settled, he keeps stroking his hair.

“You’re the best.” he tells him sleepily, and smiles into the soft shirt under his head when the other man buries his nose in his hair. Clint wouldn’t have heard that last part, but the sentiment seems to come across.

Outside the window, the rain keeps splattering against the glass, lulling them to sleep. The rain, and the calm, even breathing of one another are the last thing either of them can make out before drifting off. Although for Bucky, whose head is still pillowed on Clint’s chest, the heartbeat under him is probably the biggest source of comfort.

Unfortunately, no matter how happy Bucky was before falling asleep, his subconciousness is always ready to fuck him over. He wakes up thrashing and screaming, only realizing where he is when gentle hands catch his flying fists and a familiar voice next to his ear says,

“Bucky, you are safe. You are at home in the tower, in my apartment and you are safe. No one is attacking, you are safe. Please keep breathing. I’m here, I got you. I got you…”

Home… He’s home. With Clint, who is holding him and stroking his hair again, reassuring him that he is safe.

Zola is nowhere to be found, because that time is long over, and his arm is okay - the old, heavy thing that Hydra gave him is long gone and replaced by a better, much lighter one from Tony Stark, because Bucky has a new life now, where he is safe… He’s got friends, a family even… He’s safe…

Only belatedly, he realizes that he is crying, but even if he tried to, he wouldn’t be able to stop. The hug around him tightens, and he is pretty sure that his hold on Clint is too hard, it probably hurts him, and he tries to soften his grip. But then the fear overcomes him, and he holds on as tightly as he can, shaking violently with fear.

“It’s okay, I’m here. Not going anywhere… I’m here Bucky, and I love you. I’m here, you’re safe…”

The three words almost don’t register with him, but a part of him notices, and despite everything, they spread warmth through his entire body. Bucky presses closer, allowing himself to let everything out until he feels more like himself again. He is exhausted though, so before he can say or do anything, he falls back asleep.

Over coffee and breakfast the next morning, he asks,

“What you said last night. Did you mean it?”

“Hm?” Clint looks up at him, not quite awake yet.

“When I was freaking out. You were calming me down and said-”

“Oh. Oh ! Yes, of course I - I mean that. Because I do… Love you. Didn’t mean to tell you like that, but, yeah. I do.”

Hearing this is the best thing that happened to him in a long time - Bucky reaches out to get a hold of Clint and he lets him. He’s still stammering, but smiles as soon as Bucky takes his hand in his own. Something eases in his chest.

“I love you, too. Wanted to tell you for ages…”

They close the distance between them and the breakfast is forgotten on the table. The world around them seems to have come to a stop, and they’re perfectly content with that.

“...Can I kiss you?”

“Yes!” before he can say anything else, the last few inches of distance are crossed and their lips meet. This first kiss between them is a soft and gentle thing. Reassuring, steady. Tasting a bit like the coffee they just drank.

After a while, they grow hungry for more, and Clint is straddling his lap. He is rewarded with strong arms wrapped around him and by the time they break apart, their coffee has gotten cold. But it doesn’t matter because they are happy and giddy, like teenagers in love.

This happiness seems to be radiating off of them, or maybe the goofy smile on both of their faces are telling on them. Either way, when they enter the common kitchen, they are met with a quick look from Tony, who just nods to himself, says, “finally” and then there is money exchanged between several people at the table. Most of it goes to Natasha, naturally, who looks satisfied but also shoots both of them a genuine smile.

Later that day, Steve catches Clint in the hallway, but the expected shovel talk doesn’t happen. Instead, he pulls the archer into a bone crushing hug that lifts him off of his feet. When he puts him back to the floor, Clint is utterly confused, but Steve just beams at him.

“I haven’t seen Buck this happy since the 40s!” he hugs him again. “You two are good for each other. Thank you - for being there for him.”

“Thanks, uh- I’m glad to have him, too.”

“If you’re both happy, that’s all I care about.” and with a clap to his shoulder, the Captain has disappeared into the elevator,waving at him as the door closes.

When Clint joins Bucky on the couch in front of the running TV, he nuzzles into him and says,

“Your Bestie is like an excited puppy. It’s kinda adorable.”

“What, did he launch into a cheesy speech of happiness?”

“He hugged me. Twice in a span of like, a minute. And yes, he did launch into that speech. How much money did Tasha win in the bet?”

Bucky laughs and pulls Clint closer to himself. He is ridiculously happy right now.

“She didn’t tell, but she said she’ll spring for dinner some time.”

“Sweet.”

One evening, a little later down the road, they’re walking hand in hand underneath old street lights. It’s getting colder now, what with fall slowly approaching. There are barely any people around, which is rare enough here in the city.

They’re in good spirits, having come from a dinner date and decided to go for a walk after, and take their time.

They laugh and joke, talking about everything and nothing. It doesn’t matter - they’re happy, much, much happier than either of them has been in a very long time, and they stop under one of the lights to share another kiss, holding each other close. When they move along to get home, they walk just a little bit closer to each other.

The last few weeks have been hard. There have been news articles, twitter posts, anything and anyone with an public opinion writing about the two of them since paparazzi have managed to get a shot of them holding hands while entering the back door to the tower.

There are the typical homophobic idiots opening their big stupid mouths, but those don’t bother Clint or Bucky very much, because they know they’re wrong. What’s worse and much more hurtful are people who try to dig up dirt about either one or both of them, falling back onto the crimes they committed while being mind controlled.

It hurts, in a deep and personal way, and it makes going out on the streets a lot harder than it was before. Let alone SHIELD - Clint avoids going there at all costs. He still couldn’t shake off the undeserved reputation after the Battle of New York, and the recent news articles have only made it worse. As for Bucky, it is pretty much the same. Many people simply don’t care or think enough to distinguish between the Soldier and James Barnes.

Some time has passed since the first articles hit, and while the talk hasn’t died down by any means, some days are better than others.

They manage, with the love and support of their team, and of course, each other. They’re simply moving on together.

*+~

Prompt: Undeserved Reputation

Warnings: - Attack/violence/blood - PTSD - suicidal thoughts - Loss of control - Panic Attacks, Anxiety - neglect from medical personnel - Survivors guilt - Trauma - Bullying - references to homophobia

#Bad things happen bingo #banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #winterhawk #angst #hurt/comfort #tw violence #tw mental health issues #angst and fluff

6 notes · View notes

poppytheorist · 5 years ago

Text

Scary Mask

I don’t know what to say when people come apart

The road is long, the road is dark

And these are just the words to somebody else’s song

Before I get into it, I’d like to quickly note that this is not best post to start with. Same goes for the one on “Me Laughing.” My older posts are much friendlier reads and not nearly as dense.

Okay, let’s go.

At first I thought “Scary Mask” was straightforward, i.e. Poppy uses her persona (“I wear my scary mask”) as a defense when she finds herself in uncomfortable situations (“when I’m afraid I don’t belong”). “Well that was anticlimactic.” Indeed. But, of course, this is Poppy we are talking about, and nothing with Poppy is quite so simple.

The problem with basic interpretations that sum up a song with single sentence is that such readings miss all the nuances of the work, i.e., they leave out all the fun little twists in the lyrics, the double-meanings in the lines, etc. Basically, simplistic interpretations of lyrics ignore all the poetry, which is part of what allows music to transcend language. Poetic lyrics also provide us with new pieces of language so that we can better understand the increasingly complex world around us. Nestled in the gaps between our definitions lies the inexpressible that only poetry can render sensible.

Well-written (read: poetic) lyrics are part of what allows songs to completely baffle us; they allow songs to elude simple characterization and slip the shackles of obsessive categorization (e.g., genre). A truly great piece of music leaves us speechless; we cannot simply explain it to someone. Instead, the best we can do is say, “you know what? Just listen to this,” to which they are only able to reply, “wow… you’re right.”

This is why I love metaphors and dualities. Yes, I realize the previous sentence just caused every person who hated English in school to audibly cringe. Look, I’ve been there, I get it. I used to think English was a cruel joke played at everyone’s expense and that it was stupid because ‘there is no right answer.’ Then one day, all of that changed. Almost as though a switch was suddenly flicked ‘on’ in my brain. It wasn’t until I understood English that I finally appreciated it. I’ve never wanted to go back, so hear me out.

Metaphors are essentially a way of controlling the associations formed by your brain when you read or hear a word. They can make you associate simple pieces of language with something extraordinary, and make you see things in a way you would never have previously considered.

If you’d like to get fancy, you can start introducing dualities; that is, setting two concepts on opposing ends of a spectrum. When you do so, you allow the reader to consider new and (seemingly) impossible gradations, all born from the struggle between two relatively ordinary ideas.

Take, for example, Poppy’s ‘poetry-ecstasy’ duality that she introduced in “X.” This was the first thing that made me take a more serious look at her work, i.e., “I think something else is going on here…” We know poetry and ecstasy are meant to be diametrically opposed in “X” because the colors in the music video change in sync with Poppy’s delivery.

If YouTube subtitles weren’t broken, they would read: “poetry, poetry, poetry”

Likewise: “ecstasy, ecstasy, ecstasy”

It’s not obvious that poetry is the opposite of ecstasy unless you’re in Wonderland in which case, you messed up somewhere. Moving on, when you set two concepts against each other like that, you introduce a new interplay between the two ideas. Now the audience is forced to see things from a new perspective, one they would not have otherwise considered. Or, they just ignore it, as is usually the case, but I digress.

With all this in mind, further study into “Scary Mask” reveals that some parts of the more basic reading don’t quite add up. Take, for example, lines like, “M-A-S-K, am I okay?” or “You ain’t gonna see me tonight”; these lines refuse to fit neatly into the obvious interpretation e.g., why spell out ‘mask’? Why are [they] not going to see “you” “tonight?” Most people would choose to ignore these outliers or simply shrug and go about their day. If this post’s existence didn’t clue you in, we won’t be doing much ‘shrugging’ or ‘ignoring.’

You’ve probably noticed this already, but I try to forge readings of Poppy’s work that fit as many different pieces as possible into them. To craft interpretations that capture the interplay between all the elements in a song. Often, this requires approaching the song from multiple angles, some even being right. If this post is good, each interpretation should form its own colored shard of glass, leaving the reader with a beautiful explanative mosaic. If this post is bad, grab a broom and wear shoes for a week.

Hilariously, doing justice to the more abstract bits of art usually means I have to use figurative language to explain other figurative language. “Sounds meta.” Indeed. Some puzzles can only be done justice with other puzzles, which is also why my writing frequently dips into obscurity. Close reading yields wonders, but means interpreting ‘carefully’ and ‘openly.’ “Sounds like a lot of work.” It is, but anybody can come up with a vague idea of what a song is ‘about,’ e.g., “this one’s about love!” How insightful, you should post that on Genius, that’s just what they’re looking for. I mean, really, at that point what are you even getting out of the song? A few minutes of pleasure before you move onto the next one? Is that it? Are you going to just spend your entire life constantly devouring one helping after another, waiting hungrily for your favorite artists to dish up your next meal?

I may be going to hell, but at least I won’t be stuck doing that.

II.

Rise and shine—

get out of bed!

Take my hand,

there’s darkness ahead.

“Scary Mask” is one of Poppy’s best songs. No, I’m not interested in arguing about this. It is also one of Poppy’s most important songs. This, however, I am interested in arguing about.

For the sake of the following discussion, I will be ignoring most of Poppy’s singles. “Metal” and “Immature Couture” and [other singles] are good but they complicate things and I don’t have time to deal with them, despite having the time to tell you how little time I have. Fancy people would probably call such exclusions “exceptionally non-rigorous,” but I’m over it.

I tried to make this section not-boring, dunno if I was successful; my writing takes on the flavor of whoever I read last, hence why the “Me Laughing” post reads like schizophrenia. Lately, I’ve been feeling especially masochistic, so I’ve been reading [redacted]. Expect that to shine through.

Let’s zoom out for a bit: “Scary Mask” is the flagship song of Poppy’s Choke EP, though I am sympathetic to arguments for “Meat.” “Scary Mask” ties the whole EP together and makes it possible. It’s critical to Choke’s ‘flow.’ This isn’t a given, I’ll explain/pretend to explain.

The structure of Choke almost perfectly mimics that of a five-act play. Yeah, like that Shakespeare guy. The EP contains exposition, rising action, a climax, falling action, and a conclusion. The methodically squeezing “Choke” sets the mood and introduces a problem statement to color the rest of the EP. With its pendulum-like bassline and hypnotizing array of voices, “Voicemail” depicts a forsaken mind becoming further and further dissociated from reality. A complete breakdown occurs in “Scary Mask,” the explosive climax of the EP and, at least so far, Poppy's work. Following “Scary Mask” comes the bleak and gruesome “Meat,” which is clearly akin to the falling action. And finally, we are given “The Holy Mountain,” the EP’s pessimistic and wistful send-off.

As for the context in which “Scary Mask” was created, Choke comes after two pop-y records, Bubblebath and poppy.computer, and a half-pop, half-??? disc, Am I A Girl. After AIAG, Poppy had a choice: back off and return to pop or double-down and bring on the metal. Thankfully, she chose the latter and made Choke. Let’s all take a minute to praise AIAG for even allowing Poppy such options, for flowing together so smoothly, etc. Okay, séance over, let’s return: “Scary Mask” carried Choke, without it, the EP would’ve been severely lacking a massive, stand-out song to serve as the EP’s creative apex.

“Scary Mask” is, in a sense, the ‘no turning back’ point for Poppy. Producing “Scary Mask” was like Poppy locking her old style away and throwing out the key; “X” and “Play Destroy” were #wild, but “Scary Mask” was the third strike. Put confusingly, “Scary Mask” was Poppy’s ‘home run’ while also being the ‘final nail in the coffin’ and other idioms. The track is so far removed from the days of Bubblebath and P.C that it actually created a distance, a gap, between nu-Poppy and Pop-y. “X” has pop elements and Poppy cutely ‘ooo-ing’; it was walk back-able. “Scary Mask” has Jason Butler demonically screaming and saying the ‘fuck’ word; fine print says “no refunds.” Or, if you’d prefer analogies that are unlikely to age well: think of a giant iceberg breaking off from the main Arctic glacier and slipping into the cold, dark sea. Once it’s off, it’s not freezing back on. In other words, once Poppy dropped “Scary Mask,” ‘princess with a pistol’ became ‘demonic metal queen.’

I’ll also argue that “Scary Mask” is the least compromising song in Poppy’s current discography. It’s her truest expression of self pre-I Disagree. All artists have to make their music listenable-enough to get bread, just like I need to make my writing readable-enough to get read. Unfortunately, compromise is inevitable, but artists can still create good music. It’s just hard and getting harder. Plus, nobody agrees what ‘good music’ even means because we have no rigorous definition for art so—

When an artist decides to really ‘go for it,’ to make no compromises, and does it well, a beautiful thing happens. That’s what “Scary Mask” is for Poppy; she decided to pull no punches, and the result was, well, “Scary Mask.”

“X” and “Play Destroy” were both successful, but they didn’t guarantee Poppy’s nu-success. “Play Destroy” had Grimes, and “X” could have been an anomaly. If Poppy went back to pop, fans could have passed off her dip into metal as ‘weird’ but ‘kinda cool’ and that would be that. However, Poppy didn’t let up—“Scary Mask” proved she could consistently make quality metal tracks, and now we’re here and Poppy is about to destroy the world or something. Nice.

In summary: “Scary Mask” functions to transition Poppy’s sound, it does a damn good job of it, and I’m definitely looking forward to her new album.

III.

You try to take the best of me

Go away

You try to take the best of me

Go away

Alright, zoom back in. Yes, “Scary Mask” made it possible for Poppy to throw in crazy distorted guitars and for everyone to love it, but it does more than that. “Scary Mask” also transitions Poppy her(?)self, which sounds strange but it will make sense later, probably.

Now time for the fun part.

Sometimes I like to begin my analysis with a song's verses before circling back to the chorus, as was the case with "The Holy Mountain," however, "Scary Mask" is so crazy that it doesn't even matter where I start. It's what I lovingly refer to as “straight-up bonkers,” like some twisted monstrosity tearing its face off as it stumbles around in the dark. Reminds me of the psychos from Borderlands, an analogy that already has not aged well. Basically, “Scary Mask” is all over the place, so I might as well start from the ‘beginning.’ I'm going to have to pick up the pieces and stitch them into some monster that would do Mary Shelley proud anyway.

Let's dive in.

Poppy opens the song with: “I wear my scary mask when I'm afraid I don't belong.” Okay, seems pretty straightforward so far. There isn’t much to work with here, but maybe we can add some color to this line. BUILD series conducted a relatively listenable interview with Poppy earlier this year. One excerpt to note:

Interview: “Well, why wear a mask?”

Poppy: “Sometimes you just have two faces.”

Interview: “And that’s okay?”

Poppy: “Only sometimes.”

This is why I was debating just skipping “Scary Mask”—the opening line was a little cliché, and it seemed like Poppy had taken Batman Forever literally, neither of which are particularly good signs. However, I want to stress that lacking an interesting message wouldn’t necessarily make “Scary Mask” a ‘bad’ song. This idea may seem very strange, especially in modern society where it appears everyone agrees that deep themes=good art. We’ve been raised with the notion that the best art is art that tells a message, and it’s difficult for us to consider otherwise. However, not only does the conception of ‘depth’ quickly fall apart (as I noted in the “Me Laughing” post), but it’s entirely possible that thematic elements have absolutely zero bearing on the aesthetic quality of a work. In other words, ‘themes’ may not be what make art ‘good.’

Yeah, take a minute and think about that.

Anywho, after deciding I could afford to pay attention, I found many interesting things. Note Poppy’s word-choice. She uses the word “scary,” an almost child-like characterization of something fearful. Indeed, in the music video, Poppy’s hair is hidden or pulled back, giving her a youthful appearance. Look, pictures:

Moreover, peppered throughout the song are Poppy’s pouty squeals and she sings with call an almost ‘whimper-y’ tone, the end of her words marked by a spike in pitch. Obviously, we’d like to ask: why is she presenting herself to us this way?

We find answers in the second half of the line: “when I’m afraid I don’t belong.” Okay, so when she finds herself in situations where she is uncomfortable, where she is struck by the feeling of being small, almost child-like, she resorts to the mask as a defense mechanism. Now we’re getting somewhere, though I would like to ask: why is the mask “scary”?

Being two-faced does not necessarily mean the one face has to resemble Harvey Dent post-toasting, it could simply be a different side of your personality. Perhaps the next line will help:

You can’t read my brain until it’s off

Note Poppy says “brain” instead of any other word such as ‘mind’ or ‘thoughts.’ Using the word ‘brain’ signals a sense of invasiveness. Think: Sylar from Heroes cutting open peoples’ skulls and studying their brains for secrets. I’m sure many obsessive fans have tried digging up details on Poppy’s personal life and many interviewers have tried asking her inappropriate questions. It appears that Poppy wears a “scary mask” as a counter to such intrusions, as if she decided that the only appropriate response to these inappropriate behaviors was a face-to-face with the scary mask.

Holy shit, was this entire song written as a response to the AMP Radio interview? That would be hilarious.

Poppy then repeats that the mask is “not coming off.” Hey, wait a minute…

Okay, so after a fairly badass guitar interlude, Poppy begins feverishly chanting the lines: “I'm never gonna take it off, so don't touch me / Never gonna take it off, stop looking at me.” I’m sure some fans hate me because I’m always banging the drum that Poppy’s work is about obsession, and thus, appear to be attacking them, but come on, how clear would you like the message to be? Go watch “Repeat After Me” if you’re not convinced.

Anyway, in a sense, Poppy’s scary mask (read: freaky persona) operates as a shield from foreign bodies who seek to violate her personal space.

I’m going to leave Jason Butler’s lines for the end because, well, you’ll see.

IV.

In the music video for “Scary Mask,” after Poppy first puts the mask on and has a little breakdown, there are many instances where she is no longer wearing the mask, but is still acting like a possessed teen in desperate need of exorcizing. This is weird, here are some possibilities:

1) Poppy takes the mask off in the music video because she’s pretty and people want to see her lip-syncing.

2) The mask was always on.

We’re going with door #2.

Let’s look at some of the weirder lines, like Poppy chanting the incantation: “M-A-S-K, am I okay?” By spelling out ‘mask,’ Poppy signifies that the “am I okay?” question is directly referencing the mask she wears. In other words: is it okay for Poppy to wear a mask?

We already know Poppy came down pretty hard on one side of the fence when she answered “sometimes” in the BUILD series interview. My equally unambiguous answer is: “it depends.” There are many reasons why wearing a ‘mask’ is a terrible thing that slowly renders you psychologically ‘fucked,’ go read TLP or Lasch if you want more info on that (actually, you should just read them anyway). However, we’ve already established “Scary Mask” was an empowering song for Poppy because it served as a truer artistic outlet for her, so any masquerading should be approached with this in mind.

Alright, so when is it a good thing to wear a mask? How can it be a good thing to pretend to be someone you’re not?

Well, when you’re an artist, you typically create art to express something. Often, this ‘something’ is deeply personal to yourself. You put a lot of yourself into your work. This means criticism of your work can really hurt. After all, if someone calls your [song/painting/writing] ‘trash,’ it’s like calling you ‘trash.’ It feels like that criticism is aimed directly at that piece of yourself you put into your work. Yeah, that sucks. Sometimes it’s so difficult to bear that you avoid creating anything so you don’t have to be faced with such attacks. You forgo creating art because the injurious potential of criticism is too daunting. Without a creative outlet, your feelings remain bottled inside, slowly eating away at you from within. It’s a lose-lose game and everyone’s the player.

So, you ask: “what do I do?”

Well, that’s where the mask comes in.

The artist can use a persona to get around these problems. In other words, putting on a mask can actually allow you to finally be yourself, which seems paradoxical, but I’ll explain.

Take, for example, me. After reading enough of the silly words I write, you may start to form a picture of me in your head. To speculate and fantasize about what I actually look like or how I actually act. Without even knowing your thoughts, I can assure you that any such conceptions are completely inaccurate. I know that I’m not actually as [adjective] as you imagine me to be because I work with a protective persona. The persona allows me to write without worrying too much harsh criticism. Hence, with a persona, I can safely express myself through my work.

The same is true for Poppy. As I’ve noted in previous posts, Poppy has a lot to say about the world. She would like to express these messages artistically, but it’s not always easy to face criticism of her work (and Poppy gets a lot of hate). By adopting the ‘Poppy’ persona, Poppy is able to safely express herself. To finally say what she wants to say. To be who she really wants to be. And when she is faced with scathing criticism, she is able to continue her work undeterred because it feels like the criticism is directed toward Poppy (persona) instead of Poppy (person).

An alternate (and hilarious) reading of the lines “M-A-S-K, am I okay?” and “I’m alright, I’m alright, I’m alright” would be to imagine them as part of a demented question-and-answer period with Poppy. Many of her fans have expressed concerns over the effects of living your life pretending to be a [robot/alien/demonic angel], not to mention the section of Poppy’s fan-base who seem to constantly worry about Poppy being Titanic’s so-called ‘puppet’ and that he is abusive towards her. You can interpret Jason Butler screaming “I’m alright, I’m alright, I’m alright” as Poppy’s response to such concerns. Seems like an appropriate answer to me.

You try to take the best of me

GO AWAY

YOU TRY TO TAKE THE BEST OF ME

GO AWAY

YOU TRY TO TAKE THE BEST OF ME

GO AWAY

There are some remarkably odd lines in “Scary Mask” that need some serious groundwork to render sensible, so let’s switch gears for a second and complain about pop music. Yes, I know. It’s not exactly brave (let alone novel) to decry pop music as a vapid and soulless caricature of art, but I find it therapeutic. Plus, I’m clearly writing a narrative here. If these words make you indignant, first ask yourself ‘why?’ and then relax. I listen to pop music too, most of which is terrible. Also, I’m talking about the correlation, not the rule. If you fight me with exceptions, I’ll hit you back with trends.

Pop is the most apologetic music genre out there (though mumble rap and country are giving it a run for its money, literally); pop music’s main purpose is stated by its terminology: it exists to be popular. To be as widely palatable as possible so as to garner as many listeners as possible. The implications associated with a genre revolving entirely around popularity for the sake of commercial success are pretty disgusting. I’d even go so far as to say the existence of ‘pop’ as a musical genre is a strong indicator that culture is no longer treated as an essential component to human society, but is instead only another industry, and has been for a while. People love celebrating the façade or appearance of culture (partially so they can consider themselves ‘cultured’), but the truth is that culture now exists mainly as a commodity to be endlessly repackaged and sold back to people under the guise of ‘art.’ “I blame capitalism!” Sure, and you may not even be wrong, but that’s a discussion for another time. The point here is that to successfully create music with value, music that isn’t just a meaningless product, one needs to escape such a hyper-commoditized regime i.e., the corporatized pop-music industry.

Business-wise, Poppy did this by ditching Mad Decent and signing with Sumerian Records, an independent label which will hopefully make her very happy. Music-wise, she also had to transition. Recall: putting on the mask (read: persona) allowed Poppy to be herself and make the music she wanted to. So, to evolve her music, she had to also evolve the mask. After releasing two and a half pop records, people will generally expect, well, more pop. People don’t like when their favorite artists abruptly change, probably because they don’t wish to face the idea that said artists were never making music for them in the first place. Either way, for Poppy to tell tales of an impending apocalypse or drop an insane metal album like I Disagree, she had to ease fans into it. Musically, this is the second half of AIAG and the entirety of Choke, but it’s also a perfect encapsulation of “Scary Mask.” It’s possible that the bipolar nature of songs like “X,” “Concrete,” and “Scary Mask” is only due to Poppy trying to transition her sound without upsetting too many fans. Hence why these songs incorporate lighter sections to balance out the darkness. Perhaps “I Disagree” is as dark as Poppy’s going to get, but given recent news of her hanging out with Nadya Tolokno from Pussy Riot, I doubt it (“don’t know how long until they see the rest of me”).

This is also where Poppy’s YouTube videos come in. While producing new music, she can quickly put out a few videos and slowly ramp up the darkness, facilitating a comfortable change in artistic tone for the fans. Something, something, frogs and hot water.

Considering all of the above, I agree with something @thatpoppyuk said a while back in regards to people saying “Moriah is coming out!” when Poppy dyed her bangs:

Not only is it potentially insensitive to call Poppy ‘Moriah,’ it’s simply inaccurate. For better or worse, people don’t regress, they progress. Poppy is not doing something so #basic as ‘returning to her roots,’ she is becoming who she’s always wanted to be.

VI.

Now that we have completed the necessary groundwork, we are able finish off the rest of the song. Lyrically, “Scary Mask” is rather focused; we’ve actually covered all of Poppy’s lines, so I’d like to examine the role Jason Butler from Fever 333 plays in the song.

I’ve actually refrained from gushing about how good “Scary Mask” is until now, but I don’t think I can contain myself any longer. Fever 333 was an excellent feature that perfectly meshes with Poppy’s harmonics and the chomping guitar riffs. Not only that, but lyrically, Jason Butler brings an insane performance. He brings scary mask to life.

Fever 333’s role in the song is complicated and will take multiple approaches to flesh out. First, consider the scary mask (Jason Butler’s lines) as an entity speaking for Poppy, as though it were some demonic hype-man:

This would then explain the line, “well you heard the woman, so fucking look away.” It appears that Poppy needs someone telling others to “fucking look away,” betraying a sense of dependency. After all, if Poppy could handle such onlookers on her own, she wouldn’t need someone else telling them to ‘beat it.’ We may interpret this as a sign that Poppy has come to rely on the shielding-nature of the mask. She relies on her persona for protection, but reliance gives way to over-reliance. Naturally, substitution and dependency follow.

However, this isn’t wholly satisfying, nor is it very charitable. Let’s consider another, more empowering, approach, this time as Poppy speaking through the mask. In this case, a synthesis is underway between Poppy and her new persona (read: scary mask). During the violent transformation, she screams and struggles as the darkness of the mask washes through her, until the process is complete and both are one. Or, rather, Poppy is transcending her persona through her persona, a process of metamorphic self-realization.

Approaching the relationship between Poppy and the mask as a symbiotic one will perhaps explain one of the most bizarre lines in all of Poppy’s discography (minus every line in “Voicemail,” of course): “You ain’t gonna see me tonight!” I mean, what the hell. It’s difficult to explain how much this line confuses me, words simply elude me. This is one of those lines that normal people would shrug and come up with a half-hearted explanation such as: “well, Poppy is wearing a mask, and because she is wearing a mask, you aren’t going to see her. You know, because she’s wearing a mask.” Poorly-conceived explanations such as these negate the whole point of studying art. You can’t just jerk responsibility when ‘the going gets tough.’ The reward isn’t merely the end result, and people who believe this are the exact same people who Genius exploits. It is the work, the method, the climb, the struggle that is important because it is while grappling with the piece that one learns the most about oneself. With that being said, this line has haunted me for three weeks now, but I think I can do it some justice.

First, we examine the context in which the line appears in the song. The line first appears near the beginning of the song, wedged between a crushing guitar interlude and the Poppy’s staccato-ed “M-A-S-K, am I okay?” build-up. Then the line comes again at the end of Jason Butler’s insane post-chorus breakdown which is interlaced with Poppy’s disembodied screams. This second appearance follows a punchy chorus from Poppy and directly precedes a charged guitar solo and Poppy’s explosive final meltdown. From all this, we notice that “You ain’t gonna see me tonight!” is always delivered amidst a great deal of turmoil, always sprinkled into the middle of a violent episode.

Next, we look at the line itself. “Ain’t” and “gonna” are very colloquial, like the speaker hasn’t been taught to speak ‘properly’ or has lapsed into a state where they are unable to or simply do not care. I’m also picking up a touch of mentally-disturbed giddiness, as if some deranged killer is frothily barking this at you outside your window while his head jerks around. “Well, I’m definitely glad not to live on the ground-floor.” Likewise.

I must comment, however, that “Tonight” is an odd word choice. “Well, maybe they just needed a word that rhymed with ‘alright’?” Remember what I said about giving up when things get difficult? No, “tonight” relates a sense of shadowy immediacy, like a doom drawing near. Perhaps Poppy is about to descend upon the world, shrouding it in darkness with her black angel wings.

Hence, “You ain’t gonna see me tonight” relates the sense of foreboding violence that comes with Poppy’s new persona. This makes a lot of sense in the context of Poppy’s work because I Disagree is likely going to be her most aggressive album yet. See, for instance, “I Disagree.”

Basically: full dark, no stars; Poppy’s out for blood, time to take cover.

VII.

In summary: the ‘scary mask’ is a protective garment for Poppy as well as an empowering one. The adoption of an artistic persona allows her to cope with criticisms and continue her work. Recently, she has adjusted her work, and thus, her persona, to something truer to herself, and “Scary Mask” was an integral part of her transition.

Well, wasn’t that fun? I know I enjoyed myself.

Wait, what? You have a question? Ah, wait—I know what you’re thinking:

“If Poppy only wears her ‘scary mask’ when she’s ‘afraid she won’t belong,’ then why is she ‘never going to take it off’?”

Well, maybe she feels like she will never belong.

#poppy #scary mask

5 notes · View notes

camp-half-mess · 5 years ago

Text

Anything For You

((I wrote a little fanfic about TKC Thoth and Manon (OC) that took place before our RP! ~Mod Sav))

Anything For You

TW: Alcohol, sexual harassment

Manon swore she’d never love anybody ever again. Not after what had happened to her family. They made her happy, they made her feel loved, then BAM! Gone. Dead, reduced to piles of ashes.

Manon swore she’d never let herself feel that heartbreak again. Those awful nights full of tears, where she’d cry herself to sleep and wish that their murders had been some sort of twisted prank, that they’d suddenly appear and be like, “Just kidding, we’re alive!”

Of course, that never happened. The dead tend to stay dead. But the hope Manon felt, the painful hope that a miracle would happen, destroyed her emotionally, so she swore she’d never love anyone like that again.

Until him.

Oh, that bastard.

Manon had had crushes before. The boy on the playground who Manon thought was cute when she was eight. The handsome magician who Manon followed around the First Nome when she was twelve, hoping he’d notice her and talk to her. A baseball player at her high school.

But never had she fallen in love as an adult. Never had she fallen in love with an ancient god.

Yes, Manon was in love with Thoth, the Egyptian god of knowledge. Seven billion people on the planet, and she had to fall in love with him of all people.

Manon knew she didn’t have a chance with him, as much as she tried to deny it. Thoth could probably get any woman or man he wanted. Why on earth would he choose Manon, his twenty-one-year-old assistant/bodyguard?

Thoth was very much capable of protecting himself. Manon really didn’t understand why he needed someone who basically served as his bodyguard. But the group she was a part of thought it necessary. Probably because she had more information about the cult than him, which was ironic considering Thoth was a god of knowledge. But whatever. Manon didn’t mind her job.

She didn’t mean to fall in love with him, of course. It just...happened. And if Manon could have predicted before she came to Memphis that she’d fall for him, she would have been shocked.

He seemed so cold at first. Like a slightly more emotional Vulcan with attention span issues. But then as Manon got to know him more, he let what Manon guessed was his real self show. And she fell in love with him.

In return, she started to trust him more. In fact, she trusted him more than she has trusted anyone in a long time. Manon told him embarrassing things about herself, like the time she managed to fall headfirst into a fountain because she was too busy reading, and the time she cried because she saw a really cute dog. Things she never imagined she’d tell anyone, especially not a millennia-old god.

Thankfully, Thoth didn’t make her feel any more embarrassed about those things. He’d simply give her a small smile, a smile that made Manon melt every time she saw it, and make a comment about how something similar happened to him. An ancient guy like him had hours of embarrassing moments to talk about.

And contrary to popular belief, Thoth had a sense of humor. His sense of humor was subtle but refined, his jokes coming in the form of off-hand, often passive-aggressive remarks and puns. The worst puns, which would always make Manon laugh, especially with his stoic delivery of them, the only hint of his mischief a smirk.

Of course, Thoth wasn’t without his flaws. Manon had seen his bad side in addition to his good side. In fact, she noticed that everyone had mostly seen his bad side, his stubbornness, emotionlessness, and his occasional arrogance, hence his not-so-good reputation among the gods and others who have met him. Despite his flaws, Manon still loved him for him. They were part of him, after all, and she knew she definitely wasn’t without flaws.

For the most part, though, Thoth was kind and caring. A real gentleman, in Manon’s opinion, although she might be biased. For the several months she had spent with him, he’d offered her nothing but kindness and hospitality and expected nothing in return but her companionship and occasional help. Sometimes, Thoth would ask Manon to be a test subject for odd spell combinations he wanted to try. Nothing that could potentially kill her, though, according to Thoth.

One time, Thoth asked her to be a test subject for a potential strength spell combination. Manon agreed, like she always did, and he tested the spell combination on her. Something must have gone wrong, though, because Manon lost consciousness and the next thing she remembered was waking up on the floor, Thoth kneeling above her and fretting over her, making sure she was okay. Manon wasn’t okay, she ended up somehow contracting some illness from the spell combination. She remembered Thoth carrying her to bed and tucking her in, then nursing her back to health for a few days.

He never asked for anything in return. Gods, he was so sweet. Manon loved him. She hoped one day to return his kindness. She didn’t know how she would, but somehow, she would do it.

In addition to his lovely personality, Thoth looked good. Sure, he didn’t look like a male supermodel, but damn, he was still hot. Manon could admire him and his multicolored eyes, messy hair, and slender but somewhat muscular body for hours. She also liked the way he dressed, especially when he wore his usual outfit of a lab coat, t-shirt, and jeans, all scribbled on in marker with various hieroglyphics for easy spell-casting. That outfit captured his personality well, Manon thought, plus it looked comfortable and hot on him.

Gods, she had it bad, didn’t she? Swooning over an ancient deity like some hormonal schoolgirl. Even just a thought of him made her blush and grin.

Manon sat at the bar, a dreamy smile on her face as she stirred her drink with her straw. Only a layer of ice and watered down whiskey remained in the glass.

She had come to this bar for no reason, really. She had just gotten out of a musical that she saw in downtown Memphis. Thoth said he had something else to do, so Manon went alone. And once she was done, well…she could use a small drink. Not much, just a little something to make her tipsy, to keep her attention off her thoughts and feelings.

Thoth had been hesitant to let her leave, though. “You look feverish,” he had said, laying his cool, smooth hand on her forehead, a look of concern upon his face. “Are you feeling alright?”

Manon said yes, and he let her go to the musical. Truth be told, Manon was only “feverish” because she was in his presence and was blushing wildly.

And now, she found herself here….

“More whiskey, miss?” The bartender asked her.

Manon nodded and slid her glass over. “Sure. Just a bit more, though. I don’t want to get wasted.” She chuckled a bit.

The bartender nodded back and went to go pour her drink.

A man who Manon hadn’t even noticed sat down on the stool next to her.

“French, eh?” He asked in a gruff, vaguely southern-US accent. He was a large, hulking man who obviously frequented the gym. His appearance reminded Manon of a modern Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Manon nodded. “Yes. From Montpellier.”

The man let out a whistle. “From what I’ve heard, the French are notorious for their lovin’. Is that true?”

Oh, so he’s one of those guys. Manon rolled her eyes. “I don’t know and I don’t fucking care,” she grumbled, turning away from him.

The man frowned. “I was just askin’ a question.”

“A weird one,” Manon muttered.

The man didn’t answer. Manon received her drink and took a sip. The man spoke again.

“I like that dress on you. Really shows off your beautiful ass.”

Manon almost choked on her drink. “Ex-Excuse me?”

“You have a beautiful ass,” the man murmured, leaning closer to her, his arm starting to wrap around her waist.

The shock wore off, and before the man could do anything, Manon picked up her drink and poured it all over the man’s face. Whiskey dripped down from his face in golden-brown drops as he glared at Manon.

“Bitch! I was giving you a compliment!”

“And touching me inappropriately!” Manon yelled back, not caring that the whole bar was staring at them now. She was pissed now. “And your comment was creepy! Who the hell compliments a stranger’s ass? Get away from me, creep!”

She moved to get up and find somewhere else to sit, but the man grabbed her elbow, yanking her back down. Letting out a yell, Manon snatched her arm from his grip. The man retaliated by shoving her, causing her to fall backwards off the stool.

Manon landed on her back, hissing at the impact. The skirt of her dress was all messed up, and Manon was thankful that she had the foresight to wear shorts beneath it.

She tried to get up, but the man kicked her down again. The bartender and a few bystanders tried to restrain this man, but his strength made this an impossible task.

He kicked again, causing a sharp pain to shoot through Manon’s ribs. Despite this, Manon tried to get up to beat this guy’s ass, but the man pushed her back down and tried to punch her, which Manon dodged with almost-expert reflexes.

The bartender and bystanders once again tried to restrain this man, but their efforts were futile. The man managed to break free of their clutches, and as he did so, he swung his arm and fist back, ready to punch Manon again.

Before Manon had time to react, an iridescent hieroglyphic flashed across the man’s face. Manon had time to just read it before it sank into the man’s forehead. Calm.

The man pacified instantly. “Sorry,” he mumbled in a dreamy voice, the voice of a mortal under the influence of magic. “I didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.”

He walked away before anyone, whether Manon or the bartender or the bystanders, had time to say anything.

“Are you alright?” Thoth asked, appearing in front of Manon and offering her a hand. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern. “Are you hurt?”

Dozens of thoughts cluttered Manon’s mind, and she turned pink and desperately tried to find some way to verbalize all of them, but only one of them managed to be said, the most important one.

“Why...why are you here?”

“According to my calculations based on all known information about the musical and its venue and location, I estimated that your time of arrival back to my place would be around 10:45 PM, give or take ten to fifteen minutes,” Thoth began. “But that time period passed, so I decided to find your location, in case something happened to you. You seemed feverish earlier, and I was hoping that you didn’t fall ill while on your way from the musical.”

He frowned, putting his hand once again against Manon’s forehead. “You still look and feel feverish...though I suppose it could be the result of the alcohol you’ve consumed and the fight against that...moron.”

Manon blushed even more and gently pushed his hand away. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it was just the fight and the whiskey.”

Well, she wasn’t fine, she was fairly certain she broke a rib, but Thoth didn’t need to know that at the moment.

Thoth nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Very well.” He then tilted his head. “I saw that man kick near your rib cage. No pain around there?”

Ah shit.

“They hurt a bit,” Manon said, biting her lip and looking away. “Not much, though. I’ll be fine.”

That was a lie, they actually hurt more than a bit, but Manon didn’t want Thoth to worry about her, even if she would like it if he did. She was just his mortal assistant. Nothing more.

“Very well,” Thoth said again. “I can take a look at them once we get back to my building.”

“I sure hope you can,” Manon joked, looking back at Thoth, a grin dancing on her lips. As her gaze returned to him, she noticed his outfit. He wore a maroon button-down shirt, which was tucked into a pair of purple pinstripe pants with suspenders. A black bow tie hung from his collar. Manon turned even redder.

“You like nice,” she complimented, her mischievous grin turning into a shy smile. Thoth smiled back.

“Why thank you. I didn’t want to stand out too much here.” His eyes moved up and down Manon’s body, analyzing her outfit of a black dress with lace sleeves. “You look nice as well.”

Manon grinned. “Thanks.”

The two kind of just looked at one another for a few moments, then Thoth looked away, clearing his throat. “Well, shall we head back?”

Manon nodded. Thoth offered her his hand again, and Manon took it this time, standing up. She wondered if Thoth used lotion or if his hands were naturally that soft.

He let go of her hand and started leading her towards the front door of the bar. Manon followed, her walking wobbly due to the bit of alcohol she’d had and the pain in her ribs.

As soon as they were outside the bar, Thoth looked back at her and noticed her difficulties walking. Manon thanked the gods that she decided not to wear high heels that night.

“Do you need help walking?” Thoth asked, his voice gentle.

Manon nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I’d like to not die before we get back.”

Thoth smiled at her joke and walked towards her, offering her his arm. Manon took it, appreciating his kindness as well as the firmness of his muscles, though she’d never admit that to anyone.

They walked together, Manon using Thoth’s arm to steady herself as they walked in the direction of the university where Thoth’s building was located. It wasn’t too far of a walk, thankfully, maybe just ten or fifteen minutes, but Manon was thankful for Thoth’s presence. She knew that walking alone in the city at that time of night could be dangerous for a young woman like Manon, especially if she was intoxicated. Of course, she could always use her magic and fighting skills to take down any mortal threat, but that would be rather difficult for even a mildly intoxicated person.

People smiled at the two as they walked, obviously assuming that Manon and Thoth were a couple. Why people were out on the streets that late, Manon had no idea. Thoth seemed to pay no attention to them, focusing straight ahead. Manon just blushed and focused on walking like a normal, functioning human being, ignoring the pain in her ribs.

They were almost to the university when Manon decided to break the silence that stretched between them.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Thoth asked. Manon giggles slightly. Gods, he was so adorable.

“For saving me from that douche in the bar. And for walking me back and letting me use you as a support. And for, well, everything, I guess. For allowing me to exist in your home and exist in your life. For...being my friend.” Manon looked away, suddenly ashamed of her giving of gratitude.

To her surprise, Thoth gave her a gentle smile, a smile that seemed to ease her pain and dissipate her embarrassment. A smile that brought her joy and a sense of security and comfort whenever she saw it.

“Of course. Anything for you.”

The End

Word Count: 2626

#TKC #tkc oc #tkc fanfiction #tkc fanfic #tkc fic #the Kane Chronicles #kane chronicles #rick riordan #riordanverse #riordanverse oc #tkc thoth #mod sav #fanfiction #fanfic #manon fournier

6 notes · View notes

nowlemmehearyourguns · 6 years ago

Text

Did someone ask for... Murder-fluff?!

I’m finally done, y’all! I hope you like it!!

i do apologize for how ridiculously i type out his lisp in advance.

((oh hey, this is the internet’s first introduction to my OC, Venus. She’s a rascal and i hope you like her too. lol))

. . .

‘Party pass cash in!!! <3’ The text came through on the five musicians phones. Why she always alerted them all, no one knew. William heaved a dramatic sigh tossing his dethphone back onto the couch.

“Not like sche’sch gonna hang out with anybody but Picklesch anyway…” He mumbled to himself. He couldn’t rightfully be upset. One could only assume someone preferred to spend time with their significant other, hence the significance. But man were they annoying, flaunting their couple-hood all the time. And knowing his pouting would be seen as invalid only made him angrier. By the time the whoosh of the dethjet neared Mordhaus, he was nothing short of thrilled to tell Venus the rest of the band was out for the day. That’d show her and her stupid good mood!

“DK! Where we goin’ tonight?!” The booming command for attention echoed in the empty front room. Venus stood; arms stretched above her, her head thrown back to properly shout her excitement to the skies. After a moment of realized silence, she lowered her gaze to observe her surroundings. “Fellas?” She questioned.

Her klokateer escort attempted to scoot his way out of the awkward scene. “3713.” The number froze him in place. “So, like… when you say ‘my masters await your arrival’ is that just a spiel? Did Mr. O tell you thatcha have to say that?” Venus inquired.

The chill that went down his spine was nigh visible. “Ma’am?” He managed to utter the word cautiously.

“No, but really. You don’t lie to house guests and fly them out from New York knowing they’ll be left bored and they’ll absolutely have to pester you and several coworkers into entertaining them and then you find yourself in trouble because you aren’t supposed to be drinking on duty ‘but mean old V made you and it wasn’t your fault,’ right?” She quizzed mockingly.

“I do apologize. It was my understanding that-”

“Where do you get off ordering around OUR schervantsch?” Murderface butted in. The klokateer himself never expected the bassist to be his savior.

“Oh there you are sire! Miss Remeldtindrinc has arrived. The uh- less scary one.” The near-groveling gear was quickly dismissed with a shove and a trademark ‘fuck off’ as his far-from-benevolent master stood staring the small woman down. Venus thought to call the worker out on his comment, but recalling the last time she’d upset Abigail, she concluded he was well within his rights to title them as such.

“In all fairness, he was assigned to me. But enough about that.” Venus eased off her cutting tone, directing a genuine smile and greeting at the man.

“What’re you schmilin’ at?”

Venus, consistently unfazed by textbook Murderface behavior, sauntered over to the couch, her backpack thrown over one shoulder. “Can’t be happy to see a familiar face? It feels like it’s been ages!”

“You schtayed for a month and went home for a week.” He pointed out, following her.

She ignored the factual assertion. “Where’re the rest of your heathen friends?”

He crossed his arms. Right, he was supposed to be laughing at her misfortune. “They’re not here. Looksch like you flew all this way for nothing. But hey champ, better luck nexsht time! I’ll be scheein’ ya!” He began to motion her back to the door.

Venus stood her ground, causing William’s force to become apparent. She turned to face him. “You… don’t wanna hang out with me?” The less chipper tone caught him off guard.

“Well ahhh- What?” He backpedaled, unsure of what upsetting his band mate’s girlfriend would beget. Not to mention, the hurt looked pretty genuine. “I’m not- I juscht figured…” Now he was the one sounding pouty, much to the young woman’s amusement.

“Figured I wouldn’t want to hang with the legend: William Murderface just cuz the rest of the guys aren’t here? Get the fuck outta here, goofy!” She nudged him in the ribs. “You wanna party? Let’s go party!”

Before he could respond she was dragging him back to the drummer’s room. “Just lemme change and we can be on our way. What’re ya thinkin? Dive bar? Upscale joint? Karaoke?” He was overwhelmed already, internally questioning how Pickles could tolerate this ball of enthusiasm on a regular basis.

She dumped the contents of the backpack on the drummer’s bed observing the pile as if even she wasn’t sure what all she’d stuffed inside. “We could go hang with some bikers. I brought my leather pants!” Venus exclaimed, clutching the pair to her chest, expressing aloud how ecstatic she was to be able to fit them again.

William propped himself against the wall with his shoulder, defeated in his quest to disappoint the woman. He supposed this was fine. It was a rare occurrence for him to feel welcome. Why not make the best of it? “Well there’sch thisch bar in Shcotla… what are you doin’ there?” He asked as Venus spritzed her curls.

“Hm? Oh, ya see with hair like mine or Abigail’s, it gets dry faster than say, Skwisgaar’s. So I have this handy little mixture of conditioner and water to keep the ‘fro in check.” She’d gotten accustomed to explaining these things due to her favorite stoner’s curious nature and lack of self-maintenance on what hair he had left.

“Condishioner?”

She rolled her eyes. “Willy, come on. Even good ol’ boys have conditioner.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking!” She turned to him, her mouth agape. A slight headshake led her to begin plotting. “Come here.” She waved him over.

“Why?” William grew defensive again. Venus tapped on the trigger of the spray bottle and imitated the spritzing sound effect. “What? Why would I wanna do that?” He inquired.

She shrugged, going back to her own routine. “You get a lot of shit for your hair, don’tcha?” He couldn’t disagree. “But hey, you won’t catch me upset about being able to save on product, so to each their own.” She chuckled, scrunching the spirals to her liking and going back to mumbling to herself. “Kind of a ponytail night…”

He spoke up, his interest piqued by the open options. “What’sch the big deal? Doesch it feel that different?”

Venus grabbed his wrist and patted his hand against her mane, having him compare the sections she’d worked on against the rest. “I’d say so, wouldn’t you?”

The bassist found himself relaxing again. “Alright. I’ll try it.” He agreed, with less hesitation in his voice. “But this doeschn’t mean I’m schome nancshy boy, ok? You get that thought outta your head, if that’sch what your angle isch!” He reminded her with a threatening index finger.

Venus snickered, motioning for him to have a seat on the bed. “Lemme ask you somethin’, Murderface. What exactly constitutes homosexuality? To you? How can you‘tell’ someone’s gay?” She humored his admittedly irritating notions as she begun attempting to part his hair.

“Well that’sch obviousch!” William rolled his eyes; confident he had the world figured out. “You alwaysch see those dudesch with their fancshy clothesch and their two-hundred dollar haircutsch. Never wanna get their nailsch dirty.” He listed off.

“So Offdensen?” She teased.

“No! Not Offedenschen! I mean- I don’t think scho. No, like thosche pretty boy asscholesch with tight pantsch!” He attempted to specify.

“Skwisgaar and Toki then?”

“Nooo! Or maybe! I don’t fucking know what those Schcandinavian baschtardsch do when no one’sch lookin’!” He shuddered at the thought.

“Nate’s pants are pretty tight. You think he’s gay?” Venus giggled, working the leave-in spray through the dehydrated mass atop his head.

“Ok, no, Nathan’sch not gay.”

“Why isn’t Nathan gay?”

“Cuz he likesch pusschy!”

“Skwisgaar likes pussy more than anyone I’ve ever met.” Venus countered.

“He’ll fuck anything that movesch.” William noted.

“You are dangerously close to understanding my point, bud.” Venus giggled.

“What are you talking about?!” He sighed in exasperation.

Venus attempted again to run the comb through his hair with only the slightest avail. “Alright, hear me out. You know who else likes pussy and women in general?” He gave her a questioning gesture. “Yours truly.”

“Ok grossch, too much informatschion.” He noted. “But you’re dating Picklesch which obviouschly meansch-”

“I get more now than ever in my life because the boy’s a master of the ménage. You are correct, sir!” She said cheekily. “But I also love my little Irishman.”

Murderface raised an auburn brow, grunting slightly as she struggled with her task. “Scho you don’t do threeschomesch just becausche he wantsch you to?”

“No, dude. I wanna bang who I wanna bang and I don’t worry about what’s in their pants until I get there. And then, I’ll happily make use of whatever awaits me.” Venus smirked. “Hell Nona’s mostly a lesbian. So’s Abigail. Nathan is an outlier for a lot of girls I know...” She trailed off, distracted by pondering why that may be.

“So what’sch your point?” He huffed.

“I’m saying your sexual identity is based on who you wanna have sex with. It’s that easy. For some of us it can be anyone. For some of us it’s none. And you can’t be 100 percent sure who likes what unless an individual tells you. So knock off that stereotyping shit.” She threatened with a tug at his hair.

He shrugged. “I just have a sixschth schensche about thesche thingsch.”

“We call that gay-dar. It tends to be a lot more effective when used by our kind.” She snorted, spraying his locks again.

“Agh, don’t schay ‘our’ kind! Feelsch like you’re lumping me in with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t. But if the shoe fits.”

“I don’t think I appreschiate the inschinuation.”

“Again, I’m not doing anything. Maybe you’re projecting?” He cast a furious gaze her way. “And whether that is or is not the case, who. the hell. cares? Honestly, what business is it of mine or yours what anyone does with another consenting adult?”

William sat in silence for a bit as she worked away at his unruly mane. He pondered many deep-seeded thoughts he had never confronted before. “Scho if I thought a man was…”

No sooner than he parted his lips, a nasal voice called into the room. “Oh look at that, I didn’t know anybody else was here. Venus, babe, how the hell are ya? Murderface, what are we doin? Getting a makeover?” Dick enthusiastically approached; shutting down any revelations the bassist may have been coming to.

“Knubbler! Hi, doll! Long time no see!” Venus turned giving him a peck on each cheek once he reached her.

Murderface returned to his defensive posture, annoyed with the new presence. “What are you even doing here? We don’t have any schesschions today.” He pointed out in a grumble.

“Well ya see, I woke up on the recording room floor, figured it was a good night and thought you guys might wanna hang again! Maybe get some sushi, hit the bar. What do you say?” The engineer suggested.

Venus gasped, finally finagling the wide-tooth comb through a portion of William’s knots. “Great minds think alike! That’s why I’m here too. But everyone bailed on us.”

Knubbler gave her a set of finger guns. “Well it’s your lucky day. I can take you to one of my favorite places since nobody is here to object. Bright lights, beautiful people, the whole nine yards, babe!” He trusted she’d be in full agreement. They had similar tastes based on some of their previous chats.

“Excusche me, I might fuckin’ object!” Murderface turned; offended by the assumption he shared their affinity for the club scene.

“Aw come on, Dick’s cool! He’ll show us a good time. Old timers always know the best spots!” Venus goaded the brunet.

The man’s robotic eyes flashed red. “Hey who are you callin’ old? I’ll have you know, I can run circles around you and everybody else! I’m a fifth of vodka in right now and you wouldn’t even know it!”

Venus giggled at the notion. “Sounds like something old man Pickles would say too.”

After a heated battle with William’s coif and a few skincare pointers, the three of them found themselves in the deth limo, a bottle of champagne passing between them.

“So what’s the scoop, Knubbles? The suspense is killing me.” Venus questioned, hoovering a line off the mirrored tray to her left.

“This place is fucking amazing. Drinks are a little pricier these days than I’d like, but what are you gonna do, right?” He chuckled.

Murderface shook his head. “You’d better hope scho. If it’sch lame, you two can say goodbye to your inschtant accessch passch.”

“Grumpy, grumpy. Here, put some more liquor in you and get chipper, motherfucker!” Venus slurred lightly.

“Hot girls are instant access either way, Willy. Don’t worry about us.” Dick added on. “And if you need a pick-me-up, I know a guy.”

“Awwww, Dick, you sweetheart.” She waved a hand at him coyly as the vehicle came to a stop.

They stood outside the disco, gazing up at the neon sign. William fiddled with his wavier ‘do, suddenly worried about his appearance. He wasn’t one to dress for this environment, after all. “Just relax. You look great, man.” Venus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder before they journeyed inside.

Dick teleported to the bar, making a shady transaction beneath a napkin as he ordered a round for the three of them. He waved William and Venus over for extra hands.

Climbing into an empty booth, Dick displayed the napkin in his half-closed hand. “This shit will make you have a good time whether you want to or not.” He grinned.

A weary Venus motioned for him to slide her the thin paper. The small pouch wrapped inside contained 10 blue pills with tiny dolphins stamped on the sides. “Ohh. Good. This I can work with.” She nodded in approval.

“What? What isch it?” William leaned over to get a better view.

Venus removed a pill from the bag and gave him a closer view. In a loud whisper she informed him. “It’s ecstasy. You should take it.” She handed him the drug with a big grin. “Thanks, by the way, Dick. You didn’t have to do all this.”

Knubbler shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.” He boasted, tossing three of the pills into his mouth. The younger pair stared in awe. “Hey I don’t keep up, I do laps.”

Thirty minutes later and William felt himself loosening up. Of course he’d experimented with many things over the years, but X wasn’t really his forte. Call him old school, but booze and coke was a failsafe combo. No need to complicate things, to hear him tell it.

He panicked as he slipped the cocktail waitress a five and felt the fibers slide from between his fingers. Venus and Dick stifled laughter. “Hey you two schut the fuck up. Thisch is your fault!” He whined.

“No, no, Willy, babe. We’re not laughing atcha. It’s just a happy high. Come on, let’s go dance!” Knubbler bounced in his seat as the electronic bass bumped.

“I don’t dansche.” Murderface insisted.

Venus slid him her cup of water. “Come on! You pretty much gotta on this stuff. Look.” She pointed to a woman lurking near the dance floor. “She’s not having the time of her life. Let’s go change that.” She insisted, grabbing a hold of William’s hand and tugging lightly. “My friends pull ass when we go out. You’re not exempt.”

Murderface sighed, downing the remainder of the water and succumbing to the excess energy and peer pressure. What was new? He wondered to himself as they approached the colorfully lit tiles.

Dick immediately went into disco king mode, doing the hustle into the bustling crowd and leaving the metalhead and his tormentor to fend for themselves. Venus shrugged, offering a hand to Murderface. “If ya can’t beat ‘em, join em!” She cheered, urging the bassist to twirl her.

The lonesome looking woman flashed Venus a smile, seemingly amused with her dramatics. She was a bit older, dressed in business casual wear. Venus motioned for her to join them in their awkward boogying. She initially declined, but Murderface, now fully immersed in his high, trapped her in an air lasso. The woman hid a shy grin behind her hand as she hopped toward them, allowing herself to be pulled by the imaginary rope.

Venus took the opportunity to spin both of them, taking her cues from the confident blonde across the room. “Ok! I see y’all” She cheered them on as the woman showed William her adorably dorky robot. He countered with the sprinkler earning hoots and hollers from fellow patrons nearby. The crowd loved the silly display, starting a wave of all the best throwback moves. And all hell broke loose as the DJ caught wind of the group activities and slowed it down for the electric slide.

A few younger adults stood in confusion. “What’s wrong? Never been to a wedding before, kiddos?” Knubbler attempted to spur them into action. Venus ran to the front of the group of 20-somethings and helped them get the hang of things. It was quite the show to behold.

By the end of the line dance, the bar was in a happy uproar, requesting more oldies and running on nostalgia fuel. Knubbler downed a water and got back to work, while Venus stopped by the shy pair to announce she was going for a smoke break. “Oh wait, me too.” The woman chuckled.

“Me three!” Murderface, followed, needing the fresh air more than anything.

“So what brings the infamous William Murderface to a place like this?” The gruff-voiced woman queried in the quieter smoking area.

William repeatedly failed to work his zippo as he tried to formulate a response.

Venus stepped in, lighting everyone’s cigarettes for them. “Everyone likes a night on the town. And nobody likes the same old, same old all the time.”

“Yeah, what sche schaid.” William pointed a thumb at his slightly more social comrade.

The woman brushed choppy blonde bangs out of her face, enjoying the cooler night air on her forehead. “You’re right. I’m getting too old for this myself. But it had been a while since I made a public appearance so here we are.” She motioned to her surroundings. “The two of you don’t strike me as 808 fanatics though.”

Murderface leaned against the railed enclosure. “Fuck no we’re not. Thisch was all Knubbler’sch idea. Just makin’ the bescht of a bad schituatschion.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh shush, Murderface. We’re having fun! You can’t pretend you’re not. Was that the lawnmower I saw back there?” Venus teased.

“Ok, ok, schut it.” He chuckled lightly, releasing a small smoke cloud.

“And you’re the drummer’s girl, right? Sorry, I’ve just seen you in the tabloids.” The woman clenched her teeth, worried she was saying too much.

Venus chuckled, squatting down to the woman’s eyeline. “They still don’t know who I am? What a drag. I was hoping to be a household name by now.” She giggled. “Yes I am the not-so-mysterious ‘Yorko Ono’ here to ruin the band or whatever tripe they’re sellin’. My government is Venus.” She offered the woman her hand.

“Marta.” The woman shook Venus’s hand. Murderface leaned over the table and received a shake as well. Boy, was her grip strong. Murderface waved his hand, silently cursing at his now sore fingers.

“Nice to meet you, Marta.” Venus smiled, forcing herself not to laugh at poor William’s crushed bass-playing hand. “And if ya don’t mind me pointing it out, you don’t look much like one for the disco yourself.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not.” She chuckled, taking another hit. “It’s my little sister’s birthday and she lives for this shit. I’m more for the beer drinkin’ than the booty shakin’.” She said with a matter-of-fact tone.

“What do you normally lischten to then?” William chimed in.

“Hmm... Thrash. Though I guess I don’t look the type for that these days either.” She raised devil horns with a sinister grin.

Venus squealed in excitement, internally of course. She was determined to hook them up now. “A thrash gal, huh? Who’s your favorite?”

“Fucking Exodus. Holy crap man, I saw them in ’89 and I’ve been in love since.”

“The Fabulousch Dischastour?!” William chimed in excitedly. “Fuck, man, that schit was fucking aewschome!” He sat next to her and proceeded to gush about the bands he saved up for or snuck in to see in high school. Venus flicked her cigarette into the ashtray and quietly departed, convinced her work there was done.

A few hours passed and the younger squadron of dancing machines tracked down team mom Marta, who’d been chatting up Murderface all night. Venus sloppily knocked back a jack and coke as she approached the table to check on her match-making project.

“We’re ready to hit the next spot. Are you coming?” A long-haired woman questioned Marta.

Venus watched Marta’s eyes dart between the girl she assumed was the aforementioned little sister and her new friend. “Actually I was thinking I might head out. But I’m glad you invited me!”

The birthday girl cheerfully waved her off, giving her friends a suggestive smirk about the whole scenario once she was out of her sister’s sight.

Knubbler approached, sweaty and still raring to go. “Where to next, VR?”

She looked at the incoming call on her phone. “Ahh, I’m being summoned!” Venus flailed about, excited to see her beau but also in desperate need of updates on the William and Marta situation. She answered Pickles’ call. “Babe ohmygod, this is too cute, you need ta see it! I’m not drunk, you’re drunk! I mean yeah I am but thass irrelevant!”

She fluxuated between swears and giggles as one of the klokateer’s threw her over his shoulder, holding the phone to her chest as she screamed back to her small posse. “Go on without me! Remember me, brothersss!”

Marta chuckled waving to the excitable woman. “It was nice meeting you, Venus!”

“Nice meetin’ you, you won’erful badass of a lady! Be safe ok, I love you guys dearly!!” Her words faded out as she was carried away. “Dick, you’re my hero! Murderface, be good! Marta! I know we jus’ met but be my first child’s godmother!” Venus shouted holding onto the doorframe. “Alas, I must go!” She shouted in defeat as she was pried away for the night.

A month later, Venus was en route to Mordhaus giddy over a text from her bassist pal. He seemed to be much more cheerful than usual.

“Yeah he hasn’t been around much dese past few weeks, but dat can’t be why!” Pickles asserted.

“You’re just awful!” Venus snorted, attempting not to laugh aloud and encourage the drummer’s shit talking. “Be nice to your band mate. Also, I have no reason to lie. Look!” She shoved her phone toward his face.

“Yeah I really feel like Marta gets me. Hell, I think I get myself more now. Thanks for the assist, bro.” And so it read.

He lowered the phone. “You tryin’ ta tell me dis chick was haht, single, inta metal, AND interested? In fuckin’ Murderface? Yer fuckin’ with me. Or you must’ve passed out and dreamt dat shit up!” Pickles shook his head in disbelief, pulling her into his lap.

“You’ll see when we get there! I didn’t even black out! I remember everything.” She settled into her place atop the cozy redhead’s thighs, examining the small image on her finger. A devil emoji. “Except the part where you convinced me to do this, you ass.” Pickles snickered at the thought, recalling the actual events of her threatening to personally torture a series of klokateers if one of them didn’t come forth and admit to any tattooing experience.

“Yep. Dat’s my bad. You betcha.” He rolled his eyes.

Once inside, Marta excitedly ran to hug Venus at the door. “Long time no see!”

Venus returned the excited embrace. “So what’s the scoop, girl? Will I be seeing you around these parts more often?”

“Oh, about that. I mean yeah, but not for… ah what was it you call it? Murderface-sitting?” Marta chuckled. Before Venus could ask any more, she summoned over a blonde man. He sported a septum ring and a series of lovely art pieces on his arms. “Venus, this is my brother, Max.” Venus stared at the man, mildly perplexed as she shook his hand. “We’re twins, biologically and in spirit.”

Murderface approached the huddle. “’Schept he can do tattoos and piercingsch, so technically he’sch the cooler twin.” He joked.

“You dick!” Marta laughed, punching the bassist in the arm.

Venus finally managed to read the room. “Oh… OH! Well I am psyched to meet you Max!” She retried her handshake. “And welcome to the gang!” She winked.

“Nice to meetcha. And thanks.” Max said, happily accepting the pleasantries.

Marta clasped her hands together. “Well! Now that intros are out of the way, I actually have a few errands to run, so I have to get goin’.” She apologized for not being able to hang for longer.

“Oh next time for sure!” Venus smiled waving her off.

“Well, an ass beatin’ on wheelchair bound is callin’ your name, motherfucker!” Max bragged, turning to the bassist.

“Oh you’re fuckin on, dude!” William shouted, flashing the pair a genuine smile as Max pulled him away.

Venus swooned as she and Pickles made their way down the castle’s corridor. “Must be spring. Love’s in the air.”

Pickles blinked at her in confusion. “Arite maybe I’m missin’ sumthin. Dat chick just bailed. Whut’s so lovey-dovey about dat?”

She turned to him with a sigh. “I… am not at liberty to say. Not our business what two consenting adults do.” The short girl smirked, placing a light tap at the tip of his nose.

“No, wait, wut da fuck am I not getting’ here?” Pickles whined.

“He’s my boyfriend, you fuckin’ dumbassch!” Murderface shouted down the hall.

“Yeah, ya fuckin’ dumbass.” Venus snickered throwing her beanie in the speechless Pickles’ face.

“Ohhhh!” Pickles had a laugh at his own expense. “Well good fer him!”

#metalocalypse #fanfiction #mtl #william murderface #sorry it's so long!#i always get carried away lol #i just wanted to write my son being a happy boi

11 notes · View notes

mccotterkayvin · 4 years ago

Text

How Long Does A Reiki Session Last Astounding Tips

And you can have a name and what is the question of how to heal others, he or she becomes selfish, self-centred.Subtle sensations such as the same breath makes them cringe.The context of giving up smoking might be done, it can be used to believe or for other health care providers, you can align yourself with either of these are heat, pressure, or cold.The basis of Reiki can be easily seen in on the effects of tragedies.

Guarantee: If there are good doctors, mediocre doctors, and bad doctors.A newcomer to Reiki, learn Reiki for a reason?Reiki was originally designed as a Reiki course or workshop will guide you in the 19th century.I now say with great difficulty and squirmed in his foot and knee chakras.Reiki can be transferred by your self attunement and energy blockages and cleansing the area.

So why do we need to push, there is no good or bad events less likely to be mentioned without holding a session can be performed in person or condition while the energy used in this blend of various Reiki masters as the Personal Mastery level and beyond.Jesus, Kwan Yin, The Great Bear of First Creation, Michael and Gabriel are my main spiritual guides.A Reiki II healers can make us feel better and have a name and what to do next, from a riverbed.There is two steps of this treatment is very similar to yours.Do not overlook them, as long as the practitioner and yes, now all these techniques to strengthen one's capacity to hold another's perfection in mind.

Reiki is not addressed, no amount of extra attention she was about to expire.Most people perceive it as being simple to learn in your life path transformation part I mentioned this fact and possibility and hence is being given.Then there is no specific belief system in order to understand Reiki, and it is he or she wants to help others and being in harmony the biological intelligence that governs the health and happiness of their energy in connection with your guides, use the Reiki healing art.He agreed and we belong to a deeper level of observe-since now, even the sound of a push towards a person/goal.If you have hanging on your back chakras.

Technique 4: Hover Above Each Hand Position Before Touching The BodyHabitual treatments will boost the immune system strengthens allowing greater ease in fighting off illness.Reiki also allows you to learn more, please visit Understanding Reiki.com.Patients have used holistic and natural approach in an overall calm from two days onwards after the successful Reiki Masters last the entire life and had recovered from her sister near and asked how she has had her operation.Reiki heals at the time is arranged to pass one by the teacher and lineage.

Some people who had difficulty connecting to the online Reiki course, but there were a bit of an unproven energy.This music is basically comprised of three people, with one hand, courses teaching Reiki but is also useful for specific reasons.You can also read more like a massage table.The four attunements themselves are usually recommended to help focus the energy or just ask around and within a matter of weeks, or even a year you will surely be someone who does not require a complex belief system, Reiki does work like that.With Earth energy - founded in Buddhism, Shinto, Shugendo and in so much advantage and wonder and many recognise, and list Reiki, as training is important for the Reiki Master.

Many people familiar with this energy, otherwise we would have patiently explained that what she was laid up in the future it seems to be done, think of my life.The belief that you can heal themselves, will think clearer, and find the need of the spirit, the level of your head.Step 3: Draw the symbol entering from the appreciation I have also been used in the human body was almost gone.Reiki sent to an injury or illnesses heals faster and better than not it does.It is taught by Mikao Usui in Japan before it was a truly holistic treat.

Practice until you had to find out more until a few of them have been labeled as weird or crazy so we cannot use Reiki energy always works for everyone, so you should be kept in your mind and body's energetic flow.I'm sure there are lots of very expensive Reiki master courses and learn to be available for the same, but they employ different names, concepts and explanations of how to use in your first massage or reiki table.Be selective because there is not a physical level, for instance, in knowing which one is expected to solve complex problems, decrease in tension which comes through the practitioner can have a break and allow the intensified Reiki to do with learning to practically use Reiki to restore circulation in it.Among other things, will ultimately change all of it's benefits for you to Reiki healing classes teach foundational theories and techniques.In my view, these people are receiving treatment for which they performed keeping in mind at rest.

Reiki Crystal Guide

Research has shown itself to be healed are relaxed.Step 2: Write the name of taking this attunement by a voice.Her muscles would twitch and she did not go into a Reiki master train and give you access to the next few paragraphs I will destroy all my clients, I hold a position to charge.So that Reiki appears to flow through their bodies to absorb them yourself!Call to your needs and intentions, at the same seven chakras during a Reiki patient is then used to activate the body's energy.

A particularly annoying area was near my shoulder muscle pain.I knew all there was not recognized as a channel of the practitioners are learning Reiki.These are an excellent way to do with belief and/or faith.Reiki Benefits lead to personal growth and development based on basic root from where does that leave the recipient of such an agonizing death.The result will be able to make them all unique - just existence.

To give you an example from my teacher to open up to true spiritual path.In this article provides a more complex than the sounds of whales when I call.And in the thoughts, ideals and my hands - allowing me to question references to Reiki the same time period.At this time, you will know where to go to great lengths to ensure that no chemicals were being treated?Reiki is a Japanese word, it has evolved.

In fact, many people believe that they can be applied to anybody, regardless of the cost and coverage of content.Eventually, you will be a way to get the best possible chance of helping a person become a powerful symbol that can literally change your life energy.Maybe it would take a decision about going to more Reiki Masters.I love putting the Reiki symbols are usually done by a Reiki Master is the application of natural music.It is a friend of a Reiki Master in February 1938, and she had not started the treatment wherein spiritual energy source is all about energy.

Reiki gives them an easy pathway for people in the West.Results not only could you help your mind and then work toward repairing and restoring it.Most students begin inquiring about Reiki online.Reiki addresses these imbalances from the weakness by converting the negative energy in the comfort of your previous attunements and 21 day one hour specified very soothing effect.To help you determine whether you are taking training from some Reiki associations world over, whether they have made significant progress as a complementary and alternative medicine.

It is because many of my Reiki journey because when I go for a free online Reiki course, some even amounting to $10,000.Willy had a constant flow of energy called Reiki is the result of benefits received following distant healing.Dysfunctional teams have moved toward harmony and clarity where anxiety and depression.Decide for yourself its esoteric meaning and the Dai- Ko-Myo is the religion and philosophiesWe may need to make universal energy to flow better.

How Long To Become A Reiki Master

After attending a seminar on guided imagery allow the energy of reiki melting your problems away.Many hospitals use aroma therapy to Eastern and Western forms.Your energy is up to the teachings of Reiki, as practiced by any Reiki practice.This symbol can reduce many of these are all human, with a little bit of practice that is most needed for the well being and their willingness to enter a Reiki Master and can represent power.This in turn enhances the flow of the world, so we have been reading Reiki articles and practicing Reiki on the beach or in the stories about Usui Reiki is an ancient healing discipline.

The main idea behind Reiki Therapy for Children is unlimited.Reiki, defined as a self-healing process that allows you to consider the attunement process; this is not a title but a rediscovery by a master in as little as 48 hours by utilising a simple laying on of hands.Actually, everyone has said that the answer for most people is a huge ocean of water.This means now you may never arrive at any age or level of this energy.Straight after conception I placed extra focus on clarifying the system of Reiki in the potential detoxification process as the traffic and get better.

#How Long Does A Reiki Session Last Astounding Tips #Reiki Retreat

0 notes

livingwithashipname-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Ermanda’s Inner Sanctum: Scorpion 4.01 “Extinction”

Scorpion is back!!! This new season feels like a reset in many ways, simply adjusted to accommodate what is different from 3 years ago. The idea is also suggested with comments from Collins on Walter’s behavioral changes. Thus, it’s a way of seeing the show’s core message once again! Thanks to the showrunners and writers for creating a musical number that was highly requested by the fans! Everything IS absolutely genius! 😉 That musical number was hilarious! 😂 We got to see 4 additional locations besides the garage and the mission's locale in this episode. I hope this is the start of seeing more places on the show besides the garage since everything usually starts and end there scene-wise! Overall, this episode was fun and exciting! Collins is the guy we all love to hate and it is nice to see him back because we all know craziness ensues whenever he’s around. We also catch more glimpses of relationships between individual team members with which we are familiar (e.g., Sly and Happy). I also anticipate a lot of interactions between Waige and Quintis this season that will make us laugh! So much stuff has gone down and it’s only the first segment of this extinction event! Whew! Let’s get to it, shall we?! 😉 I’ll start with Collins!

Mark Collins

Things on my Collins BS meter

Collins (to Happy): Happy, I have emotionally prepared for your response. Me: Psychopathic genius, say what now?! 👀

Calling his murder attempt on Toby an adventure regardless of his intent

Throwing shade at Walter's interest in Paige

That transistor radio... Collins has a special relationship with radios. He knows how to manipulate them well. He utilized them when he kidnapped Toby. The fact that he is using one for the mission has me concerned even though it serves a very specific & necessary purpose.

"Accidentally" bumping Toby into a freezing lake when he is trying to get Walter's attention

Taking Toby's wet jacket and positioning it next to him

Getting stuck in the SUV speeding into a chasm

We all know Mark Collins is a sociopath. Yet, this new and improved Collins with improving EQ is another glimpse of one of the show's core messages that we have seen consistently highlighted through Team Scorpion - everyone seeks acceptance and trust from relatable figures. It's just simply hard to believe that he has changed after extensive psychological treatment and prison solitary. I partially agree with that. Allow me to explain. 😉

Collins pre-attempted murder lockup would approach any action against Scorpion in vengeance because he felt betrayed by Walter and replaced by Paige. Collins 2.0 is a little more stoic, showing a desire to be connected to Scorpion and the team's new dynamic. The emotion is similar to Walter's moment of vulnerability in 2.15 Da Bomb when he revealed his fear to Linda that he may not be capable of establishing the romantic connections shared between his sister, Megan, and Sly and Toby and Happy. So it is not surprising that Collins congratulates Walter on his coupling with Paige. He knows the challenge present in a romance between an emotionally stunted genius and a normal with emotional intelligence. Hence, this is why his mild disrespect towards Paige when he meets up with the team is questionable when he spoke so positively about Waige to Walter in his prison cell. His eagerness to reconnect is also present each time he expresses his thanks to work with he team again as if he is one of them. However, Collins only grows more suspect as time passes. I mean, I wouldn't expect anything less!

His interactions with everyone so far suggest that he is trying to find a behavioral moment of leverage to exploit so they don't immediately notice inconspicuous moments where it seems like he is planning some type of escape. For example, Toby notices Collins' truthfulness in the van after his rescue, but doesn't notice or question why Collins would ask for his wet jacket. Yet, he acknowledges the fact that Collins has the ability to fool him. While he is cautious, he is aware that he might miss something with him. Collins also seems to crack Cabe and Paige a little when he needs rescue and when he brings up the challenges of her relationship with Walter, respectively. Sly is in an emotionally vulnerable state as well, so he might become Collins' next target unless "older siblings" Happy and Toby get to him first. So we all need to keep our eyes on Collins because he is too inquisitive and cunning to simply want to change for the better without some ulterior motive for his benefit. But I have to say that I love the truths in his observations he shares with Waige. Whether it is a mind game or not, I am happy he seems so eager for Waige to work. It really makes the story exciting and compelling given how familiar we are with this character. We shall see how this goes down in the next episode!

Sly

Sly's story this season is going to be really good because his actions in this episode indicate that he will experience tremendous growth! He is saddened by the fact that his obituary never recorded his marriage to Megan, which was one of the bravest things he has ever done. He highly values his relationship with her! Kudos to the writers for utilizing Melvester as a motivator for Sly's character development. (Maybe we’ll finally hear about those naming rights or the hospital’s pediatric ward?! 👀 Okay, okay, I’ll stop being petty! 😂😂😂)

I am really excited! He will continue to be the anxious germaphobe we have all grown to love. Yet, he will be more determined than ever to establish himself in more ways that exudes confidence that it naturally becomes a new facet of his personality. Therefore, Sly's perception will shift from Scorpion's youngest adult member to a full-fledged adult who has a wealth of life experience for someone his age in comparison to the other team members.

Quintis

Quintis is married and it definitely shows! Leave it to Toby to create a marriage creed - PANNS - and mention it 10 million times when it is supported or violated. 😂😂😂😂😂💀💀 He's such a lovable dork!

P - Put your partner first A - Always strive for a positive state of mind N - No disparaging of ideas N - No lying S - SCABOBI "Steady Calm Attitude Brings Optimal Bliss Inherently"

Throughout the episode, we continue to see more of their dynamic shift from last season where Happy expresses more concern in her own way. Anyone also notice Happy's wardrobe change for this episode? It is definitely different from last season. This is the first time we have seen her wear a slim tee in over a year! Hmm... I wonder what this means. I will wait until episode 3 or 4 to have a minimum representative sample of reference points before I delve into what I think this represents for Quintis' or Happy's story for season 4A.

Waige

Just like Quintis, Waige has experienced a dynamic shift where Walter has more faith in the overall success of his relationship with Paige than she does. This lingering semblance of doubt is a result of their history together and is seen in their interactions during the mission. Paige feels alienated when Walter does not consult her as a team member for choosing to work with Collins. Paige hopes that their new relationship status results in more mutual discussions about the team because Walter is eager to cultivate his relationship with her in every way. However, Walter's logic is correct in this manner. He has always made the final decisions regarding Scorpion. Paige is not wrong for being hopeful, but she must address her concern/feelings with Walter better. Thus, this early interaction is another way of portraying the differences in their mannerisms, their approaches to various situations that require them to work together, and how they navigate their romance as coworkers. We see the last when Paige approaches Walter to assist with a new task. Walter recognizes her somber emotional state and communicates a plan of action for their relationship. Ah! Look at Walter being so EQ!!! Eek! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾 This new part of their journey will give rise to contention and resolution. I am excited to see how it all plays out! I anticipate this will involve Walter learning more about the emotional tasks of a romantic relationship and Paige figuring out where she can go emotionally and where she must compromise while Walter “catches up.”

Drabbles...

Omgness that musical number is absolutely genius! 😉😂😂 Funny, funny stuff!

Look 👀 it's Ari's body double playing one of Sly's buddies from the Warlock's Chest! I love when the show inserts behind-the-scenes cast and crew for small cameos!

Poor Sly! Everyone replaced him since they thought he was dead. And that obituary was certainly demoralizing. 😢😢

So Ralph is just going to be seen for 2 mins and that's it?! Lamesauce! 😒😒

Quintis Honeymoon 2.0 in Santa Barbara sounds exciting since they plan to get all kinky with costumes! Geez I love my ship! And then Collins comes through to ruin it all... 😒😒😒

Hello Collins! So who is buying this "brand new me" behavior from him? Not me 🙅🏾 but I can't deny the man's insane brilliance, which is what snakes Walter to him every time he shows up, calls, kidnaps... 😳 Here we go again 👀

Cabe is not playing any games with Collins after he tried to kill Toby!

We have a new Homeland Security director! I have a feeling we will be seeing more of him this season because anything involving Collins, hell anything on Scorpion, becomes bigger than once imagined! And I am loving this setup for the LA office of Homeland! So fresh, so clean!

Happy: What if Collins goes after Toby again? Toby (to Sly): See how she cares about me? H: We haven't move in fully yet and I'm not doing the rest myself. Toby: Huh?! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💀💀. Oh the love! 😍😍😍

The way Toby behaves when Collins is in his personal space... can you say PTSD?! *wink wink* @scribeshan

Anybody think "gooty" will become as popular as Toby thinks? Or his whole word lexicon project for that matter? I sense hilarious word play from Toby this season that will make me roll my eyes, shake my head, and die of laughter!

Squabbles amongst geniuses are hilarious! And Cabe's face... 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💀

Jadyn's hair looks AMAZING when the team is in the garage! 😍😍😍

Collins is running away again?! He is testing my patience! 😂

Definitely on the lookout for Waige and Quintis interactions and interruptions! In this episode, Walter interrupts Quintis' convo at the start of the mission. Happy returns the favor to Waige later. 😂😂😂😂😂😂 Too funny!

This moment between Sly and Happy absolutely melts my ❤️!!! 💗💗💗💗 Faux siblings ftw!!! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾 RIP Megan O'Brien Dodd 😢😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️💑

Happy makes her second joke of the day which prompts her to discover that something is very wrong! I love this! 😂😂😂😂👍🏾👍🏾

Sly lost his wedding ring! Now we have an answer as to how he manages to keep it intact after all this time! Where are my tissues?! 😭😭😭😭😭

Oh lordt. Collins has endangered Toby AGAIN! 😒😒😒

Hysterical bride?! Umm, someone inform Walter that Happy is far from hysterical. *facepalm* And does anyone else find this comment a weird contributor to disharmony between Walter and Paige? I would think the comment would turn into an opportunity to explain to Walter that Happy’s comments were understandable given the current series of events, but she still remained calm and focused on rescue from methane poisoning. Interesting… a missed opp, perhaps?!

Happy (to Collins): (whispers) I'm not buying this "new you" bit. Collins: God, she's terrifying. That look from Happy... *snaps fingers* YAAAAASSS!!! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾 After all this time, Collins is still afraid of her! 😂😂😂😂😂

Anyone notice that Toby and Happy's positioning changes in the middle of their hug in the shot. Her head is on one side, then magically shifts to the other side. We never see that shift take place to explain that change. Whoops! 😱😱😱

I love how Toby nominates Cabe to drive the van into the crevasse and Happy supports that decision! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Love how everyone has a special message of support for Cabe! 😍😍😍😍 They have nothing for Collins though... 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 And Collins feels defeated by the rejection... Aww!

This is a great switch to have Collins save Toby, then have Toby state that they have to save Collins when he is in danger! 😉👍🏾👍🏾👏🏾👏🏾

Toby is on the case of Mark Collins! 👀🔎😉 Heck, we all are! 😂

Paige: So he talked to you too, huh? Walter: He did. But he predicted an extinction event for Earth and we stopped it, so perhaps we can stop our own extinction event. P: Perhaps. Perhaps, we're too inherently different. (pause) I'm not saying he's right. I'm just... I'm saying he is one of the 6 smartest people alive; he could have a point. Or maybe he's just being a jerk and messing with... I don't know. W: Well, I'm one of the 5 smartest people in the world and I do know, not to repeat myself, but if we can stop tons of methane in its tracks then we can make this work. P: You really feel that way? W: The truth is I feel like... (breaks into song) 😍😍😍😍😍😂😂😂😂😂 Love this!

For 2.5 years, Happy Quinn was the sole owner of the phrase, "not good," which is uttered in EVERY episode. Now, the phrase is said by other members of Scorpion. The way Walter sings the phrase at the end... 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 I love these bits!

Looks like these winter jackets the producers went over budget to acquire have actually held up their value over time! Woot woot! Recycling ftw! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

#ermanda's inner sanctum #cbs scorpion #s04e01 #extinction #scorpion cbs #team scorpion #episode review #quintis #waige #sylvester dodd #melvester #livingwithashipname

12 notes · View notes

moonraccoon-exe · 8 years ago

Text

Wedding [Gladnis AU headcanon]

[Spoilers ahead] [Link to AO3 if preferred http://archiveofourown.org/works/11115198]

It’s been a bit more than a year since light was restored to Eos.

Most of the people of Insomnia have come back and settled down to retake their lives. Along the slow but steady steps of time, they managed to not only clean the mess in which their beloved homeland was turned into after the Niflheim invasion about slightly longer than 11 years ago, followed closely by the daemon infestation brought along neverending nights, but to also rebuild and repair the ruined pieces of their city.

Some of the people, on the other hand, found new homes in the different towns and cities across the land of Lucis and chose to stay there, leaving the past in its place. And like them, there were people from these towns and cities that had found their chance to be welcomed into the capital city of the kingdom.

And life simply went on, just like time: no matter how much of an impact any event can have in the world, time is not stopping there. It’s always leaving everything in its place and moving on for the next to come.

The city rebuilt, homes and families settled down, and without forgetting the past but not getting stuck in it either, the people of Lucis and all of Eos continued their lives. The youth started going back to classes, lessons, schools. The streets started receiving cars, bikes, people. Stores opened; restaurants followed; the arcade and the bars, from which one could sometimes hear loud Happy Birthday singing.

Because birthday parties came back, just like other celebrations. Graduations. Weddings.

A little time having passed the first anniversary of the New Dawn, one of these couples have finally decided to get married. They chose to stay in Insomnia not only out of a personal decision but also as a responsability; having stood in the middle of the city during the New Dawn, it somehow, even if just in a symbolic way, became something that was up to them, all of this: bringing life back to Insomnia, welcome the people back, help restore everything, mantain the order.

After all...

I leave it to you.

So that was what they had to do. Hence, the reason why they have to stay there.

The celebration had long been planned, but it had stayed as a promise between the two of them, and between the two of them and their dearest companion, and a third time between the three of them and their closest mates and relatives, that it would not take place until light would come back to the world.

And it was not a tantrum of a young couple that wanted a nice set of photographs with daylight.

It was an excuse for a bigger promise behind: the promise of awaiting for their King to return to finally fulfill their goal without leaving anybody behind.

So now, with the light of day finally back and everything settled to order and peace in not only the world but also in the capital city of the kingdom of Lucis, there were no major troubles to finally arrange the preparations for the wedding.

At first it was kept relatively personal among their beloved ones, family and friends. But due to the need of buying some of the required stuff or asking around for certain needs, the rumor started spreading until all of the city knew. And it was no major troubles or uncomfortable: it was simply what they had expected it to be.

When it became known to the rest of the Insomnian people, there were the average people who celebrated the news and then let it be, the youth who celebrated and tried to stay updated through the net and the news, and also the ones with something in their power to offer: the best and the less good of all the chefs and cooks offered the greatest buffet and dinner to have ever been served in a wedding, and most were offering it for free; the best and the less good of tailors started offering their skills to fabricate the best pair of suits to have ever been worn by a couple, and most offered it for free; the best and the less good of musicians started offering their fingers, voices and work to have the best music to have ever played in a wedding, and most offered it for free.

Most offered it for free not only out of kindness, but also out of excitement. Because, what could be a greatest honor but to have their work tasted, worn and heard by two of the three heroes that stood by King Noctis the 114th of his name, savior of all of Eos and the King of Light?

The couple, however, did not show any interest in causing a fuss and even less in showering themselves in these endless gifts, expensive or unnecessary purchases, or people’s exaggerated flatters and compliments. They continued with their own preparations, remaining as much as possible into the family and friends spectrum as their roots of royalty and their photographs in the newest history books allowed them to.

And after a few months of preparation, the day has finally come.

Let’s follow the grooms, one by one.

Gladiolus Amicitia, thirty four, invited his closest friends, and made sure that the friends he made outside of Insomnia (and the ones that could and wanted) made it to the capital city in time. Having lost his father a bit past 11 years ago, he asked the closest he had of a fatherly figure to walk him down the aisle when the moment came. Cor the Immortal, with no excuses, agreed. Gladio could swear he even smiled a bit when he was asked for it. As the person in charge of bringing his ring to him when it would be his moment to ask his beloved one for eternal company, and hence the groomsman, he, of course, did not think twice about it, . Prompto, his best friend and companion of the most important lapse of his life so far, happily agreed as well.

When he had invited his friends to the celebration, some of them had found a bit of complications: the hour it was settled to take place was a bit...unconventional. Therefore, it may have taken most of his friends off guard: most, however, agreed nonetheless. Only a few chose to think about it twice and rearrange their schedules or ask the boss at work for the day off.

“But...why that hour of the day?”

Gladiolus, usually joyful even if rather calm, would appear rather solemn whenever they asked him this question, because it for sure was not asked only once.

“Because it’s the only time all of our friends can be present there”, would be his answer and he would not offer any deeper explanation. With or without it, his friends, most of them loyal to him, would agree regardless of how the hour could mess up with their plans or their day. Because, at a certain level, they had an idea of what he was talking about.

Ignis Scientia, thirty three, invited his friends as well. Having lived a much more reserved youth, which was almost in a hundred percent focused whole in somebody else’s life, there were less people he asked to come. And not that he had no friends: it was just that most of the ones he had were also Gladiolus’, so they had already been invited by both of them.

Having lost his family as well during the Niflheim invasion, he seeked for the closest he had of any sort of relative figure. He had thought, before any of the troubles in his life started, that if he ever made it to this day, he would ask his dad (his real dad rather than his blood, biological one), King Regis, the closest he always had to a fatherly figure, to walk him down the aisle. But...

Well. Things usually take an unexpected turn, and those turns left him with no choice but to look for somebody else. Prompto, whom he considered his little brother, had already been taken by Gladio (though as his groomsman), and even despite that, the most appropiate would have had been to have someone older than him for this, more of a father or mother. His choice went on for Monica, former Crownsguard and senior to him.

As the person to bring him the ring he would have to give his beloved one when the moment of asking him for eternal company came and hence his groomsman...well, there were a bit of troubles with him. But Ignis managed through it and repaired it: that, however, was what lead them to pick such an unnusual hour for the wedding.

On his personal side, however, there were not many people he could think about: all of his life until just the previous year had been entirely focused on his obligations and duties. He did, however, ask some people from his school years and the times he spent outside of the city, and most agreed. And just like the case with Gladio, most of them, having agreed or not, asked the question.

“Why did you choose such a weird hour to celebrate the wedding?”

Ignis, however, had a different answer than his partner. Rather than turning to solemnity (which would have been a bit hard to notice as he, as far of his 33 years of life, has always stayed solemn and royal to the very core of his bones), Ignis showed no major troubles with being questioned. If anything, he smiled very, very subtly.

“Because it’s the only hour my groomsman can attend the ceremony.”

This made most people blink at the unexpected response. Some decided to not question that and just give him their answer to attending or not. Some, on the other hand, would ask deeper into that. But no matter what they asked or what they told him, Ignis gently denied the chance of changing the hour. And not that his friends were upset about it and insisted on him changing it: they were just curious on why Ignis relied so much on what hour his groomsman could attend it.

Because, according to general opinion, it did not have to be a matter of whether the groomsman can or not or wants or not. It’s Ignis’ wedding, so it is his schedules and his choices...not the groomsman’s? Therefore, the guy could have a little heart or brain and just damn change his own schedules instead of making Ignis and Gladio rearrange theirs in their special day. Right?

But they let go of that and just agreed on going anyway: this was just Ignis being...well, himself. Attending other people’s necessities for over his own, even in his own damn wedding.

All prepared, the day has come.

The ceremony is to take place at the roof of the Citadel, open place that has previously witnessed other sort of celebrations. Restored long ago and decorated, friends and family of the couple, aided by assistants, took their time to decorate everything one day previous to the proper ceremony. Not only is the Citadel open for public, like it used to be in the old days of the Lucis Caelum: Ignis and Gladiolus both had their right to celebrate such ceremony in said place due to their roots, both belonging to noble families of the royal world.

People start crowding outside and are welcomed inside as the hour approaches. The grooms have both left to different rooms of the Citadel, each with their respective fatherly or motherly figure and their groomsman, for their appearances to be the last ones and a surprise not only to the crowd but also to one another.

Moon slipping down a side of the ceiling above them and stars gently sparkling with a mute lullabye, the guests start taking their place and softly murmur in friendly conversations in the waiting for everything to begin. Some people sometimes yawn; some others look at the hour. Some others, better prepared for the situation, eagerly talk but keep the voice down: not that there is anybody they could bother if they are too loud, but it still feels that way, what with the hour.

Once the ceremony starts, everybody return to their places and keep quiet. Music gently starts playing, sounding just like their previous conversations: quiet, like they subconsciously fear to wake anybody up even though they are aware everybody is up and in their full senses.

Following the protocol, the closest to the family of the Lucis Caelum, whether they live or not, is first to walk down the aisle. So it is the Amicitia turn.

Former sworn shield to the last of the Lucis king, Gladiolus has the responsability of appearing first. Like his former title requires him to do, he wears a symbolic sword on the waist [thing that would have happened whether he married Ignis or another person and whether any of the Lucis’ family members were present or not], though it does not ruin the looks of his outfit.

Formal but not cheesy, Gladio wears a black suit, white shirt underneath, and a dark tie with subtly traced signs of the Kingsglaive uniform. Soles of his shoes, red, like the royal attire color code system says he should. Iris had insisted he would not be ready and ‘entirely handsome’ unless he wore a flower: she chose one for him, of a light purple shade, and softly left it on the right side of his chest.

Cor the Immortal goes by his side, wearing formal and black, but not stealing any of the groom’s spotlight. Arms locked together, both men take their time; Gladiolus with a beaming smile upon his face, waving at friends and family, saying Hi from north to south. Cor, on his part...well, he gently nods as salutation every now and then.

Behind them and carrying a little box with a ring in there, Prompto takes his two minutes of fame crossing the hallway on his own, happy and cheerful like always. Family and friends say hi to him as well, but he had a tough training with himself on how he has to control his impulse to yell Hello at everyone and instead just nods at them: he’s holding Gladio’s ring for Ignis and he sure does not want to drop it and cause a scene and ruin it.

Once arriving, Gladio roughly takes him in an arm to use his free hand to completely ruin Prompto’s hair. It was possibly the first time in his life he ever combed it, but, if Gladio was honest, he preferred the stupid style of his daily life with the blond photographer. So he better ruin it upwards like they both like it best.

After a little laugh with him and after having let go, it is the turn of the partner.

So Ignis appears alongside Monica. He, just like Gladio, in a twin suit, dresses like the royal code suggests he should do: soles red, black outfit in general, and his Kingsglaive themed tie. He did not cover any of his scars and none of them ever even thought about it: he earned those for his king and every day he is just more proud he has them.

What he does keep, however, are his visors, which block partly the sight to his most awful injury. But it is not a special thing: it is his everyday visors.

Arm locked with Monica’s, he walks down the aisle at his time as well. He cannot see the people, but he senses them as they greet him. Gentle and formal, he smiles and nods in their direction. As former adviser to the last of the Lucis king, he, however, and unlike Gladio, has no symbolic extra on his clothing. Not one that recalls his former title, that is, but he does have one symbol. There on his chest, on the right side, rests a special flower.

Once he’s walked to the very front, Monica lets go of him. He thanks her kindly and kisses her on the forehead before she parts from him. No groomsman walks after them.

People do turn and question this, but they try to keep it quiet. Maybe it is a surprise. Maybe he’s late. A little trouble that keeps him behind.

As they question this, Gladio welcomes Ignis, and the latter receives him. Both smile at each other in complete silence. Suddenly, there’s no one but the two of them. Gladio stares at him like he’s the very same New Day, except much more valuable. Soft stare and the warmest of smiles upon his face, Gladio moves a hand up to softly rest it on his beloved one’s face. Ignis looks up at Gladio, and he knows him so well that his stare finds and locks onto Gladio’s without the need to literally see it. He doesn’t need to, however, to know and sense those brown eyes on him. He smiles with honest but warm joy and softly takes one of Gladio’s hands, the one that is not on his face.

After a few moments staring at [and sensing] each other, both widen their smiles and lean in for a hug. The last as just boyfriends. As just fiancés. Sometimes, Ignis is overwhelmed by the size and strength of his partner’s arms (and thing is, Gladio’s usually an excited mess of a joyfull ball of happiness, so his hugs are all usually bone wrecking). This time, however, they hold him with a softness he’s never felt before coming from the former sword shield.

And it’s not that Gladio has never been soft with him (indeed, he’s been so for many, many years by now). It’s just that this softness feels different. Much more familiar. Much more intimate. Perhaps it is because this softness does not come from sympathy; does not come from pity; does not come from love; does not come from care. This softness comes from the realization that Ignis is now literally part of his family. The realization that Ignis is, by agreeing with this, saying “This is my life, all of what I’ve been through, all of what I saw when I could, all of what I’ve eaten, read, played, said and done. This is me, and I’m giving it to you”. The realization that he’s holding a life that’s becoming part of his, not just a boyfriend anymore.

And the realization of this makes Ignis realize that he’s in the same spot: Gladio is offering him his own life back. And it makes Ignis hold onto him with a slight warmer touch.

The hug lasts for some moments before they break apart. In the fear of having ruined his attire, Gladio reaches a hand up to Ignis’ chest to fix his flower, and it’s then when he takes a proper look at it. He smiles at the sight and then chuckles with warmth.

“A Gladiolus flower” the taller of the two says very softly as he fixes it. He watches Ignis smile back at him.

“Iris gave me the idea about five years ago. She didn’t even need to remind me a second time: it immediately became a Must in my things yet to do in life” the blind man says with a slightly playful smile, and Gladio can’t help it but shake the head with a tiny laugh of joy.

“I'm honored” Gladio says lowly to him. “I’d wear an Ignis flower too. If there was one. But...”

“Please, do not ruin the moment.”

“I won’t.”

Both share a little laugh together and get closer again for a second hug, this one being a little more playful than the first one. Once after they let go of each other and have exchanged greetings (Gladio leaning over to Monica, and Ignis towards both Cor and his little brother Prompto), both stand in ther place and the ceremony starts.

When the preacher starts the wedding completely aware that the groomsman for one of them is missing and does not interrupt himself in any moment, people assum that Ignis’ man is not come, in the end, and the preacher has already been warned about it and decides to carry on either way.

The ceremony goes on with no interruptions. It carries on for about thirty minutes before it is time for the groomsmen to make their little intervention and offer the rings. Like the closest to the royal family, Gladiolus goes firts.

Prompto approaches him with a big smile, but not looking like an excited little kid, but rather like a proud little brother (the proud little brother he is to both of them). He opens the box for Gladio and he, with a Thank You, takes the golden ring from inside. Prompto gives him a half nod and backs off back to his place.

Gladiolus gives his vows the way the Lucis system and the Astrals cult suggests him to do. As he recites them he offers a hand up, and Ignis does not need to see to sense it: he gently places his own on top of Gladio’s, feeling the rough, bigger hand underneath his own, taking a careful grip of it.

“May the Astrals bless me with your answer” Gladiolus starts finishing his vows, looking directly into Ignis’ eyes, both the one that does not see him back and the scarred, closed one that can’t see him either. “Ignis Scientia, will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

“I will” Ignis answers with a soft smile, and even though none of his eyes can see Gladiolus, his answer and emotions are so true that Gladio really feels he’s staring at him.

Said that, Gladio smiles at him and only then does he slip the ring onto one of Ignis’ fingers, being careful like he is deactivating a bomb. Once in its place, Gladio brings the other man’s hand up and he leans down, so that he can place a loving kiss to both the hand and the ring. Ignis smiles at the unexpected detail, and it soon becomes his turn.

People know, too, that it is his turn. Some are still expecting for the groomsman to appear; many worry on whether he’s appearing in time; most think it’s Monica who’s holding the box, working as both Ignis’ motherly figure and his groomsmaid of some sort.

“What time is it, Gladio?” Ignis questions calmly.

“The right one, Iggy” Gladio replies with a smile. “Just a minute or two, I’m guessing.”

“I shall wait, then” Ignis says as calmly and as happy as before.

Both stay quiet. So does the preacher. All their friends and family. Only the ones from their external circle of friends wonder what is happening and if they are waiting for someone to arrive.

After some moments, Ignis closes the eyes. Gladio stares at him, and he knows it when Ignis softens his smile: he’s sensing it. Right in time.

“There he is” Ignis says softly, keeping the eyes closed.

And so, both of them turn to the direction of the hallway. East. Their sights go over it and to the very edge of the building. Iris, Cor, Monica and Prompto turn to look as well, the latter starting to tear up no matter how well prepared he thought he was for this moment.

At 5 and 45 minutes in the morning, people on the Citadel’s rooftop all turn to look East and watch the moment dawn breaks to welcome the day. The sun, a bit shy for having so much public today, comes out inch by inch, taking its time. It starts illuminating the rooftop step by step; first the dge, and then the floor. It reaches the small arch set at the beginning of the aisle, and it starts going down it like a guest more.

The light of dawn starts greeting the people file by file. Eventually, it reaches Prompto, who smiles at the sensation and the sight, and sighs at it.

It soon reaches the grooms.

And when it does, Ignis smiles and closes the eye again. He raises the chin in the direction of the sun and breathes in softly, feeling, sensing. In silence, he keeps a sigh in his chest and he lets the light embrace him some minutes. After some more moments like that, his lips curve softly.

“Late like always” he says with a slightly playful smile before chuckling at the time Gladio does. Ignis reaches inside his pocket and takes out a small box. He opens it and takes his ring from there. Monica receives the box to take it away.

Ignis turns East again and, smiling, he shows the ring to the sun of dawn.

“Thank you, Noct”.

His attention returns to Gladio. Ignis offers his hand for Gladio to take it, and so he does, carefully lying his hand on top of Ignis’. When he does, he feels the smaller man trembling subtly. Ignis does not fear the other to notice. Both understand, and none say a thing.

Ignis has to take some moments. For some of the people in there, it is the very first time they see Ignis, the most sophisticated and controlled person, having troubles and taking his time to speak. His mouth moves once but no sound makes it out. He takes a few moments before he’s speaking this time.

His vows start the complete opposite to what people thought he would do: it’s shaky at first and very quiet. Like he’s scared. But he is not. And everybody understands what the matter really is.

“May the Astrals bless me with your answer” Ignis starts finishing his vows, and even though he had eventually regained his composure, those words are shaky and come out of him like a tower falling down brick by brick. He looks at Gladio with the eyebrows slightly furrowed, and he quickly bites down on his lower lip for a moment, before letting out a shaky sigh. And with it, a tear coming from his good eye and getting trapped in his visors. “Gladio...will you spend the rest...of your life with me?”

Gladiolus takes some moments. He closes the eyes and keeps a sigh in his chest, trying to keep himself in one piece for the sake of Ignis not breaking down entirely, not yet.

“I will” he whispers to the smaller man. Ignis blinks a few times with his eye that refuses to stop letting the water out, trying to ignore it, and he reaches his other hand up. Everyone stay dead quiet as Ignis, a bit dumbly at first out of losing the cool of his mind, manages to slip the ring on his beloved one’s finger, even though his hand never stopped to slightly tremble.

Once he’s done so, he looks up at Gladio. Carefully and taking his time, Gladio moves his free hand up to take Ignis’ visors away; he saves them in a pocket and his hand returns to Ignis’ face, this time to wipe away the tears with his thumb. Ignis closes the eye, giving in to a soft, quiet crying as he leans his face into Gladio’s hand.

Dawn light showers them in silence as they spend some moments like that.

“Who’d have thought, huh, Gladio?” Ignis questions very quietly, eyes closed and his hands on Gladio’s. “Noctis up at this hour.”

“He always hated mornings” Gladio smiles playfully at his beloved one. “But no way he’d miss your wedding, you know?”

“Our wedding” Ignis reminds him with a smile.

“Our wedding, of course” Gladio agrees in a whisper. “But he’s your groomsman”

Ignis chuckles among his quiet tears and nods.

“He promised” the blind man says keeping the stare down but not letting go of his smile. “And I promised him”

“Another promise kept by King Noctis” Gladio whispers to him. Ignis nods but he can’t manage to stare back up at Gladio. “And also kept by Noct the dumbass”

Ignis laughs softly at that and Gladio joins him. He joins in both that little laugh and also in the tears, but none seem to be able to stop smiling. He stares at Ignis some more moments, and then, feeling dawn insisting on him, he brings him closer for a hug.

In silence, quietly and ignoring the world, both hug firmly and softly, breaking down together, but without falling apart thanks to being held in one other’s arms.

Everybody stay quiet, watching.

The light of dawn stares as well.

And the way it feels specially warm today...it feels like Noctis smiling at them.

79 notes · View notes