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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“By the early 1920s, the older generation of physicians who insisted that athletics would damage women's fragile bodies had largely been discredited. Nonetheless, concern that women's participation in vigorous exercise programs, competitive sports, and other forms of strenuous physical activity would undermine "natural" gender differences lingered through the rest of the decade. After all, sport had developed in the nineteenth century as a male preserve, a domain in which men expressed and cultivated masculinity through athletic competition.

Women's assumption of such "manly" activities therefore continued to unnerve many contemporaries who questioned the social consequences of their unprecedented exploits. How could a woman who "on the stroke of six [o'clock] . . . jumps out of bed, throws herself on her bicycle and races like a newspaper boy out to the tennis court or the gymnasium, and then arrives at the office at nine, completely out of breath" possibly retain her femininity, wondered some observers. Could women who participated in "mannish" activities such as soccer and boxing be truly womanly outside the sports arena?

And was it not possible that unrestrained physical activity might really, as some critics suggested, cause young women to "shake off a part of their sex and acquire a considerable part of the robust and rough assurance of a masculine being?" For those who harbored such concerns, the media's endless fascination with extraordinary female physical feats did little to alleviate their worries. Throughout the postwar decade, newspapers and magazines reveled in stories about women, both from Denmark and abroad, who broke gender conventions as soccer players, wrestlers, hammer throwers, long distance runners, motorcycle drivers, sharpshooters, and parachute jumpers.

Photographs of female firefighters, bus drivers, ditchdiggers, and construction workers only added to this carnivalesque display of female modernity that simultaneously announced the arrival of a new type of physically active woman and the collapse of distinct male and female preserves. Equally popular were stories of female accomplishments that seemed to throw into question men's physical supremacy. When, for example, the young Danish-American swimmer Harriet Mille Carson managed to cross the English Channel in record time in 1926, while "the first-class male swimmer" against whom she competed had to "give up due to wind and waves," she did so under intense media coverage.

And the following year, when the seventeen-year-old Edith Jensen became the first person ever to cross the Sound between Denmark and Sweden, only one day after a male swimmer had failed to reach that goal, the press once again touted young women's stunning physical strength and endurance. While most ordinary Danes probably found such spectacular female feats more exciting and entertaining than threatening, those who participated in the public debate were generally troubled by such activities. In their minds, these were examples of the worst aspects of women's physical activities—vulgar in their competitiveness, excessive in their aim, unfeminine in their vigor, and immodest in their public display.

Instead of promoting stronger, healthier female bodies, such activities, they feared, would ultimately undermine women's physical well-being and, rather than making them more beautiful, might make women mannish and muscular. It is therefore hardly surprising that many contemporaries felt that some guidance was called for lest young women slip entirely out of control and lose themselves in unhealthy competition and damaging excesses. Even advocates of female exercise were often uncomfortable with young women's enthusiasm for strength, speed, and record-breaking.

While interested in promoting physical freedom and athletic enjoyment for women, the vast majority of them were also committed to preserving gender difference, and they saw competitive strife as an unfortunate and eccentric American phenomenon that threatened to ruin not only "the sound Danish tradition of women's exercise" but also women's physical health and femininity. In response to charges of masculinization and out of concern about women's health and well-being, they therefore began to articulate a philosophy of female athleticism that defined proper physical activities for women as fundamentally different from those of men.

Women, they argued, should carefully choose only those forms of activity that suited their constitution. Exercise should not exert, and it should never "develop a woman's body so that she becomes too muscular." Besides, women should not engage in competitive sports. Not only might frenzied competition lead a woman to loose her composure and "aesthetic appearance," but it also brought out aggressiveness and other "most unfortunate character traits in a woman." Rather than athletic prowess and bodily strength, the development of soft and harmonious feminine bodies ought to be the objective, and women should therefore confine themselves to the "feminine" category of pleasurable exercise and physical fitness, leaving "masculine" sports to men.

Female physical educators, including exercise instructors, gymnastics teachers, and physical culture specialists, were particularly adamant in this stance. By the 1920s, these women had for decades been striving to develop specifically female exercise programs. Criticizing nineteenth century traditions of gymnastics and physical exercise for their masculine bias, their emphasis on disciplining and strengthening the body, and their stiff, militaristic bent, they insisted on the importance of acknowledging gender difference and cultivating exercise systems for women that were not a "blind imitation" of men's. Instead of strenuous drills and apparatus-based gymnastics that developed muscular strength, they encouraged light floor exercises, rhythmic movement, and figure training that called forth physical expressions of women's feminine nature.

According to its advocates, specifically feminine exercise programs had numerous advantages. First, they took place in gender-segregated spaces and made it possible for women to exercise under the guidance of female instructors without exposing themselves to the lewd gaze of male spectators. Second, in contrast to competitive sports and masculine styles of gymnastics, which were deemed "too brutal and therefore [threatened] to ruin the harmony of the female physique," the new styles of exercise offered physical activities that were designed to preserve and enhance women's "figure and feminine grace" and make them "supple, graceful and rounded in form and movements."

Typically described as relaxing yet invigorating, such exercises allowed women a measure of organized physical expression without violating their femininity. Third, and perhaps most importantly, these forms of physical activity did not seek to "turn women into athletes" or encourage them to become "unappealingly emancipated," but allowed each woman to develop her body to its fullest aesthetic potential. A harmonious, fit female body, radiating health and "natural" feminine beauty, was the inevitable result of such proper exercise.

Considering their emphasis on style over strength, physical attractiveness over athletic accomplishment, and gender segregation over mixedsex companionship, it is not surprising that advocates of the new exercise systems met with widespread support even among many former critics of women's physical activities. By advocating new forms of moderate physical exercise that promoted health and fitness along with feminine beauty, female physical educators had clearly managed to stake out a culturally legitimate position. Edged between modern sports and conventional physical restraint, they proposed a compromise that merged athletic enjoyment with activities suitable for female bodies and psyches.

While physicians, physical educators, and other interested parties debated these issues, young women continued to pursue a variety of physical activities. Some paid scant attention to the words of authorities, delighting in many of those exact activities that most horrified contemporaries. Amanda Christensen, for one, was never deterred from her love of competitive bicycle racing. "I knew, of course, that girls were not supposed to do that," she conceded, "but that never stopped me. Why should people tell me what I could do?"

Most young women were much less assertive and self-confident. While they were enthusiastic about sport and physical exercise, they were also concerned about how their participation in different activities might be perceived. As one young woman wrote to an advice columnist, "I want to have fun, but I am not sure whether it is appropriate for young girls to play hockey." Despite the desire to have fun and take part in what were perceived as "modern" activities, she and many other young women did not want to violate too many cultural norms, and they were unwilling to risk too much social ostracism.

Besides, most young women were as concerned about their femininity as were other contemporaries, and despite their interest in physical exercise they did not want to risk appearing "mannish" and unattractive. Not surprisingly, many girls and young women therefore responded positively to the new forms of exercise advocated by female physical educators. From the early 1920s, both devoted sports enthusiasts and women who had never before participated in organized physical activities flocked to exercise classes. According to Jenny Okkels, "We all took exercise classes."

Regitze Nielsen agreed. "Any young girl took exercise classes back then," she recalled, adding with obvious delight that "it was so much fun, such camaraderie." Part of the appeal of exercise classes for young women lay in the very qualities stressed by advocates of physical exercise. Clearly, the cultural respectability of such activities enabled even cautious young women to engage in various forms of female physicality without exposing themselves to charges of improper behavior. Within a wholesome atmosphere, apart from men and under the supervision of female instructors, they found welcome opportunities for pleasurable and fun-filled physical activity.

Moreover, the particular forms of exercise promoted by female physical educators in the postwar decade offered young women a chance to reshape their bodies in ways that simultaneously set them apart from older generations of women and fit their perception of what constituted a "modern" physical style. Key components of this coveted style included physical self-confidence, a graceful feminine body language, and a certain "natural" ease—all characteristics that female exercise instructors strove to teach their students.

Aja Packness, who participated in exercise classes during her youth in the 1910s, recalled, for example, how she and her classmates learned to "swing and sway and twirl so we looked like butterflies. We learned rhythm, graceful poses, and arm movements, but first and foremost we learned to behave freely and unconstrained. I am to this very day grateful to Miss Schjellerup [the instructor] because she taught us to walk freely across a dance floor where many people were watching us. And we learned to sit properly on a chair—not shyly out on the edge."

Because many physical educators adhered to the philosophy that "each individual [is] endowed by nature with a personal rhythm," exercise classes also encouraged the pursuit of individuality and personal expression, both factors young women associated with female modernity. In addition to these appealing qualities, the enthusiasm that many young women displayed for the exercise classes sprang from the legitimacy they seemed to grant to sensual pleasure and the pursuit of physical beauty, an undertaking that nineteenth-century moralists had often criticized as evidence of female vanity and self-absorption.

Physical educators idealized the healthy, harmonious, physically fit female body, and they were never sparing in their praise of "the beautiful sight of many young, slender female bodies engaged in rhythmic exercise." Many of them actively encouraged women to pay attention to their appearances and to take pride in their efforts to attain "cheerful, agile and healthy" bodies. Of course, the praise bestowed on those who strove to be physically fit entailed an implicit critique of those who failed to do so, but even as they enforced a new set of standards for what constituted an attractive appearance, advocates of women's exercise and physical culture nevertheless succeeded in claiming for women the right to take new kinds of pleasure and pride in their bodies.

In the course of the 1920s, then, the tension between young women eager to explore new forms of physical activity and older contemporaries concerned about the consequences of unrestrained female physicality gradually faded as physical educators managed to develop new forms of female exercise that were sufficiently feminine to deflect charges of improper masculinization and, at the same time, sufficiently exciting and physically gratifying to attract large numbers of young women. Although some female athletes continued to excel in competitive sports and to upstage men in spectacular feats of performance, the fact that the majority of young women turned their energy toward feminine exercise seemed to quell much of the opposition that initially surrounded women's forays into the sporting world.”

- Birgitte Soland, “Fit for Modernity.” in Becoming Modern: Young Women and the Reconstruction of Womanhood in the 1920s

#becoming modern #birgitte soland #history #1920s #gender

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vladdocs · 3 years ago

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ENG Letter from the Voivode Vlad Draguli Tepes of March 14, 1457. *** By content: This letter finally clarifies the political situation between Wallachia and Transylvania, which became the cause of the conflict in 1457 and later. However, to understand the situation, it is worth reading first two other documents, the first, the agreement between the parties, the terms of assistance, the second, the document of the request for help from the voivode. This document follows in this chain the third, interesting from the point of view of the conflict. After the voivode did not receive an answer, according to the agreement, he goes to the lands where the applicants for the throne of Wallachia and their accomplices are hiding. According to the agreement, if you remember, the party on whose land the applicant and his people are hiding, preferably, betrays (meets the voivode as a friend) intruders, or does not interfere with their search. Probably, the governor did not meet any assistance in Transylvania, which is not surprising, given this attitude. Having crossed the Turnu-Rosu pass and arriving at the places where the aforementioned gentlemen were hiding, but faced with complete indifference, the voivode made an attempt to persuade Transylvania to reckon with itself. The result of this was the burned villages of Kasholts, Khosman and Nou Romyn near the very Sibiu. For decades, Transylvania, which had been shaking the nerves of the governors of Wallachia, was literally shocked by such an act, unprecedented in its kind, so that echoes of indignation reached us in the form of pamphlets, legends, stories, where from year to year, from decade to decade, the number of “innocents” increases, just like the number of "victims". In those stories, it comes to the point where the death toll during that period significantly exceeds even the number of all who lived at that time in one of the largest cities in Transylvania, Brasov. What exactly prompted the governor to take such a decisive, long-needed step? Was it the indirect participation of Transylvania in all the coups in Wallachia?, the murder of his family?, an attempt on his own murder?. It is unlikely that the voivode was so restrained and patient that, having come to power “without any help,” he concludes a strong peace with Transylvania and approaches it very responsibly. This letter is also very interesting, with a phrase that some historians even interpret as a threat: “If you don’t want even more, then immediately inform us so that we can rule and govern”. However, from the point of view of the choice of vocabulary, "quod nos regere et gubern {are p} ossemus" is completely neutral and, speaking figuratively in modern words, has the following content: the voivode, being a ruler, will be able to begin to regulate the current situation only when he finds out about the further political course of his neighbor, Transylvania, and does not want to be in the dark about that, therefore he asks to inform about his decision. There is nothing else in this phrase, "reign and govern", "herrschen und lenken", in any translation, that is, to be the ruler and therefore to control the situation. For all that, few people focus on the fact that they tried to kill the governor in Transylvania when he needed help. They also pay little attention to the fact that the voivode expresses, albeit tactfully within the framework of necessary diplomacy, about his attitude to the origin of the applicant: “his infringement on our right of the true (!) Heir”, “a monk from Wallachia who calls himself a son voivode ", the latter is twice specially indicated. Given these moments, I personally cannot understand why Vlad The Monk is definitely considered the illegitimate child of Dragul, when among his sons his father is not mentioned anywhere in the documents, not even once, and one of the sons frankly says that the Monk is an impostor. In my opinion, Vlad Monk is another Neagoe Bassarab, of which, as we remember, there were plenty of them. With only one commander Dragulya Tepes, duplicated Mirchi, Vlada and

forged documents suddenly appeared. Letter from the governor Vlad Draguli Tepes dated March 14, 1457. *** Noble, prudent and far-sighted men, advisers, fathers, brothers, our sincerely dear friends and neighbors, as you remember, and you should be well aware of that, there is a commitment between us, and vows backed by unshakable loyalty have been taken; and these obligations and vows must not be violated by anyone and never, while we are alive, at any time, which we personally specifically pointed out to you in a letter. From our side of evil, we did not do you and did not intend to start that. But today a rumor has reached us and we have learned about all that, that at a secret council you were with the people of a monk from Wallachia, who calls himself the son of a governor *, settled their affairs; Moreover, Peter Gereb * from Virishmort, and Peterman *, the son of the noble Peterman, who were neighboring with you, took part in this. You were personally promised to transfer all the fees to you in Rukar and Brail for a long time, promising that Wallachia's income. * Remember the time when I wandered and arrived in your lands *, you then did not let me into your council, but instead, out of loyalty to the noble lord, the governor of these lands, Vladislav entrusted the noble men John Gereb from Wingard and Nicholas from Salzburg to capture us in the city of Joaju and to end us. But by the will of God, we ourselves were able to return our lands without any help *, but with you, we made a strong peace and thus made your enemies ours. Today we fully understand that you support a monk from Wallachia, who calls himself the son of a governor, and his people in an encroachment on our right to be a true heir, and we also understand what bad consequences for us everything can lead, since you are already Advice with him, and he, having made his way to Amlash, remained there, and is there to this day by your own will. Therefore, with this letter we ask each and every one of you that in the name of the God and according to the commandments of the Catholic faith, as well as for the sake of maintaining fraternal peace and friendship between us, after reading our letter, you will certainly write to us or report back, whether you wish further observe the order established by us and you in writing and be loyal to it. If you do not wish that more, then immediately inform us, so that we can rule and govern. Given in Targoviste on the second day after the feast of Blessed Pope Gregory, in the year 1457. Vlad, Commander of the Transalpine lands, your faithful brother, son and friend in everything. Comments: * Identity of Vlad the monk is speculative only. * Peter Gereb * from Virishmort was a judge and head of Sibiu in 1467, later he was executed in the city square because of his participation in the uprising against Corwin considered bloodthirsty). Peterman was a wealthy Sibiu merchant from Wallachia, Kampulung; the city was located on the trade route from Rukar to Brasov. The German-speaking community living there maintained close relations with Sibiu. * Fees from you in Rukar were the most important source of income for Wallachia, therefore they were never the object of donation or lease. Braila Port, located on the Danube, was the country's most important port and was of exceptional importance for trade in the western Black Sea region. The decision of the self-appointed claimant to take away the income from the country and give it to Transylvania was also unprecedented, his desire to curry favor was painfully strong. * After an unsuccessful attempt to regain legal power in November 1448, the voivode fled to Moldavia. However, there is no evidence that he was present at the court of Bogdan II. Perhaps he found refuge among the Moldovan boyars who were supporters of his family. Later, the voivode is forced to move to Transylvania, after Vladislav finds himself in the same situation as many voivods before him and therefore loses the support of the Hungarians. * Joaju (Rom. Geoagiu, ung. Algyógy) is located in the Hunedoara

Sudce, where the Hunyadi family owned vast estates and were surrounded by numerous supporters. The authors of the book Corpus Draculianum contradict themselves, first they write that the Hungarians removed Vladislav because of his pro-Ottoman policy, and then that the murder of the governor could have been ordered by Hunyadi, so that, literally: “Hunyadi wanted to prevent Vlad's attack on Vladislav, so as not to violate the truce with by the Ottomans ". Several different statements. And why would Vlad even then be in Joaju, "where the Hunyadi family owned vast estates and were surrounded by numerous supporters." Honestly, I am alarmed by the attempt of the authors of the book to constantly challenge the words of the voivode in the documents (I often notice in the comments, they say, “the voivode is misleading,” or “in fact, the reason was something else, and not indicated by the voivode” (they apparently, instead of the governor, they know much better what was the cause of what was in the 15th century, in this case the same example, after all, everything is written in black and white, who attempted and why) and suppose “their own” version. I do not know the purpose of such comments. An example, one of the many about challenging, openly refuting the words of the voivode in his letter with his statement, is the commentary on the phrase “But by the will of the Lord we ourselves were able to return our lands without any help.” In the commentary to this phrase, the authors of the aforementioned publication, the governor is accused of lying, citing a completely empty formal oath to Postumus in March 1456 and arguing that (as it turns out, it was not Hunyadi who wanted to kill, as they had previously stated) with the help of Hun eadi. In support of the versions, documents are cited that are not evidence of the indicated facts, even indirectly. In some comments, the authors of the publication accuse the voivode of issuing an ultimatum without offering any negotiations, and this is for this phrase: “Therefore, with this letter we ask each and every one of you that in the name of the Lord and according to the commandments of the Catholic faith, and also for the sake of maintaining fraternal peace and friendship between us (!), after reading our letter, you certainly wrote or reported to us (!) whether you want to continue to observe the order established by us and you in writing (!) and be loyal to it. If you do not wish that more, then immediately inform us, so that we can rule and rule. " I don’t know how even softer it is possible to write after an attempted murder, after a betrayal and a secret conspiracy, the ruler who previously concluded an agreement with you asks you to inform us about your preference in actions. I cannot understand what the authors are pursuing with such comments. _____________________ RU Письмо воеводы Влада Драгули Цепеша от 14 марта 1457 года, перевод группы Воевода Валахии XV века Влад Цепеш Дракула. *** По содержанию: Данное письмо окончательно проясняет политическую ситуацию между Валахией и Трансильванией, ставшую причиной конфликта и в 1457 , и позже. Однако, для понимания ситуации стоит прочесть сначала два других документа, первый, договор между сторонами, условия содействия, второй, документ просьбы о помощи от воеводы. Данный документ следует в этой цепи третьим, интересным с точки зрения конфликта. После того, как воевода не получил ответа, согласно договору, он отправляется в земли, где укрываются претенденты на трон Валахии и их пособники. Согласно договору, если помните, сторона, на чьей земле скрывается претендент и его люди, предпочтительно, выдает (встречает воеводу , как приятеля) злоумышленников, либо не препятствует их поиску. Вероятно, воевода не встретил никакого содействия в Трансильвании, что и неудивительно, учитывая подобное отношение. Переправившись через перевал Турну-Рошу и прибыв в места укрывательства перечисленных господ, но столкнувшись с полным безразличием, воевода предпринял попытку убедить Трансильванию считаться с собой. Результатом этого стали сожженные

деревни Кашольц, Хосман и Ноу Ромын близ того самого Сибиу. Десятилетиями трепавшая нервы воеводам Валахии Трансильвания была в буквальном смысле шокирована таким поступком, беспрецедентным в своем роде настолько, что отголоски возмущения дошли до нас в виде памфлетов, сказаний, рассказов, где из года в год, из десятилетия в десятилетие, и число «невинно убиенных» становится все больше, и смерти все краше. В ряде рассказов доходит до того, что число погибших в тот период значительно превышает даже численность всех, живших на тот момент в одном из самых крупных городов Трансильвании, Брашове. Что же именно подвигло воеводу на такой решительный, давно нужный шаг? Было ли то косвенное участие Трансильвании во всех переворотах в Валахии, убийство его семьи, покушение на его собственное убийство. Вряд ли, воевода был настолько сдержан и терпелив, что, придя ко власти «без всякой помощи», заключает крепкий мир с Трансильванией и очень ответственно к тому подходит. Данное письмо очень интересно и фразой, которую некоторые историки даже трактуют как угрозу: «Ежели не желаете того более, то тотчас сообщите нам, дабы мы могли властвовать и править». Однако, с точки зрения выбора лексики, «quod nos regere et gubern{are p}ossemus» вполне нейтральна и , если говорить переносно современными словами, имеет следующее содержание: воевода, будучи правителем, сможет начать регулировать сложившуюся ситуацию , лишь тогда, когда узнает о дальнейшем политическом курсе своего соседа, Трансильвании, и не желает быть в неведении о том, потому просит сообщить о своем решении. Ничего другого в данной фразе нет, «reign and govern», «herrschen und lenken», в любом переводе, то есть, быть господарем и потому управлять ситуацией. При всем, мало кто акцентирует внимание на том, что воеводу пытались убить в Трансильвании, когда ему нужна была помощь. Также мало акцентируют внимание и на том, что воевода высказывает, пусть и тактично в рамках необходимой дипломатии, о своем отношении к происхождению претендента: «его в посягательстве на наше право истинного (!) наследника», «монаха из Валахии, кто величает себя сыном воеводы», последнее дважды особо указывается. Учитывая данные моменты, я лично не могу понять, почему Влада Монаха определенно считают внебрачным ребенком Драгула, когда среди сыновей его нигде не упоминается в документах самого отца, ни разу, а один из сыновей откровенного говорит, что Монах самозванец. На мой взгляд, Влад Монах очередной Нягое Бассараб, которых на деле, как помним, было полно. Только с одним воеводой Драгулей Цепешем внезапно появились и дублированные Мирчи, Влады и поддельные документы. Письмо воеводы Влада Драгули Цепеша от 14 марта 1457 года. *** Знатные, благоразумные и дальновидные мужи, советники, отцы, браться, наши искренне дорогие друзья и соседи, как вы помните, а о том должно вам быть хорошо известно, есть между нами обязательства , и даны клятвы, подкрепленные непоколебимой верностью; и сие обязательства и клятвы недолжно никому и никогда, пока мы живы, в любое время нарушать, на что мы вам лично особливо в письме указывали . С нашей стороны зла мы вам не творили и не намеревались то начинать. Но нынче дошел до нас слух и мы обо всем том узнали , что на тайном совете с вами были и дела свои улаживали люди монаха из Валахии, кто величает себя сыном воеводы*; пуще того, принимали в том участие и Петер Гереб *из Виришморта, и Петерман *, сын знатного Петермана, соседствующие с вами. Вам лично пообещали надолго передать все сборы с вам в Рукаре и Брэиле , посулив тем доходы Валахии.* Припомните же то время, когда скитался я и в ваши земли прибыл*, не пустили вы тогда меня в совет свой, но вместо этого вы из преданности знатному господину ,воеводе тогда этих земель , Владиславу поручили знатным мужам Иоанну Геребу из Вингарда и Никола�� из Зальцбурга нас в граде Джоаджу пленить и с нами покончить. Но по воле Господа смогли мы сами без всякой помощи земли свои вернуть*, а с вами же мы заключили крепкий мир и тем сделали ваших неприятел��й нашими. Нынче мы всецело разумеем то, что вы поддерживаете монаха из

Валахии , кто сыном воеводы себя величает, и людей его в посягательстве на наше право истинного наследника, а также понимаем и то, к каким худым последствиям для нас все может привести, раз вы уж и совет с ним держите, и он , в Амлаш пробравшись , там и остался , и там доныне находится по вашей же собственной воле. Потому сим письмом просим мы всех и каждого из вас о том, чтобы во имя Господа и по заповедям веры католической, а также ради поддержания между нами братского мира и дружбы, вы, прочтя наше письмо , нам непременно ответ написали или доложили, желаете ли далее соблюдать письменно установленный нами и вами порядок и быть тому преданными . Ежели не желаете того более, то тотчас сообщите нам , дабы мы могли властвовать и править. Дано в Тырговиште на второй день после праздника блаженного папы Григория, в год 1457. Влад, воевода земель Трансальпийских , ваш верный брат, сын и слуга во всем. Знатным, благоразумным и дальновидным мужам, бургомистру Освальду, судье и советникам Сибиу, всем нашим мужам саксам из Семиградья, нашим искренне уважаемым друзьям и соседям. ___________________________________________________________________________ Комментарии: *Идентификация личности Влада монаха лишь предположительная. * Петер Гереб *из Виришморта был судьей и главой Сибиу в 1467 году, позже его казнят на городской площади из-за его участия в восстании против Корвина (последнему, выходит, отмечу от себя, можно так поступать с заговорщиками и претендентами на власть и не считаться кровожадным). Петерман же был богатым торговцем Сибиу родом из Валахии , Кымпулунг; город располагался на торговом пути от Рукара в Брашов. Проживавшее там немецкоязычное сообщество поддерживало тесные отношения с Сибиу. *Сборы с вам в Рукаре были самым важным источником дохода для Валахии , потому они никогда не выступали объектом пожертвования или аренды. Порт Брэйла, расположенный на Дунае, был самым важным портом страны и имел исключительное значение для торговли в западно-черноморском регионе. Решение самозваного претендента отнять доход у страны и подарить его Трансильвании также было беспрецедентным, больно сильным было его желание выслужиться. * После неудачной попытки вернуть законную власть в ноябре 1448 года , воевода бежал в Молдавию . Однако, нет ника��их доказательств того, что он присутствовал при дворе Богдана II. Возможно, он нашел прибежище среди молдавских бояр, которые были сторонниками его семьи. Позже воевода вынужден перебраться в Трансильванию, после того, как Владислав оказывается в той же ситуации, что и многие воеводы до него и потому лишается поддержки венгров. *Джоаджу (рум. Geoagiu, ung. Algyógy) расположен в судце Хунедоара, где семья Хуньяди владела обширными владениями и была окружена многочисленными сторонниками. Авторы книги Corpus Draculianum противоречат себе , сначала пишут, что венгры убрали Владислава из-за его проосманской политики, а потом, что убийство воеводы мог заказать Хуньяди , чтобы, дословно: «Хуньяди хотел предотвратить нападение Влада воеводы на Владислава , чтобы не нарушать перемирие с османами». Несколько различные утверждения. Да и зачем бы Владу вообще тогда находиться именно в Джоаджу, «где семья Хуньяди владела обширными владениями и была окружена многочисленными сторонниками». Меня, честно, настораживает ко всему попытка авторов книги постоянно оспорить слова воеводы в документах (не раз то замечаю в комментариях, мол, «воевода вводит в заблуждение», или «на деле же причиной было иное, а не указанное воеводой» (они, видно, вместо воеводы куда лучше знают, что же причиной чего и было в 15 веке , в данном случае тот же пример, все ведь черным по белому писано, кто покушался и зачем) и предположить «свою» версию. Бессмысленно то. А вот какова цель подобных комментариев мне неизвестно. Примером, одним из многочисленных об оспаривании , откровенном опровержении слов воеводы в письме своим утверждением, является и комментарий к фразе «Но по воле Господа смогли мы сами без всякой помощи земли свои вернуть». В комментарии к данной фразе авторы вышеупомянутого издания обвиняют воеводу во

лжи, приводя основой совершенно пустую формальную присягу Постуму марта 1456 и утверждая, что (как оказывается, уже не Хуньяди убить хотел, как ранее ими было заявлено) с помощью Хуньяди. В поддержку версий приводятся документы, не являющиеся доказательствами указанных фактов даже косвенно. В некоторых комментариях авторы издания обвиняют воеводу в том, что он выставил ультиматум, не предлагая никаких переговоров, и это к данной фразе : «Потому сим письмом просим мы всех и каждого из вас о том, чтобы во имя Господа и по заповедям веры католической, а также ради поддержания между нами братского мира и дружбы (!), вы, прочтя наше письмо , нам непременно ответ написали или доложили, (!)желаете ли далее соблюдать письменно установленный (!)нами и вами порядок и быть тому преданными. Ежели не желаете того более, то тотчас сообщите нам , дабы мы могли властвовать и править». Уж не знаю, как еще мягче можно написать после покушения на свое убийство, после предательства и тайного заговора, правитель , заключивший ранее с вами договор, просит вас сообщить о вашем предпочтении в действиях. Не могу понять, какую цель преследуют авторы такими комментариями.

#Vlad voda #Vlad Tepes #Vlad Dracula #vlad the impaler #Ladislau Dragkwlya #documents #history #wallachia #romania #March 14 #1457

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momenacesage · 4 years ago

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so,, hanseo and miri am i right. the ending never happened so take this headcanon-y / illiterate fic of thoughts as crumbs !!

okay, so, i was thinking, the reason why miri and hanseo don't get together straight away when they both realise their feelings is bc miri says no. don't get me wrong, hanseo has a lot of loyalty and love to give, and he's ready to give it to her. but she disagrees, bc she pushes him to talk through his traumas and realise where he sits in all of it. she wants him to understand himself first bc he's never had the chance to put himself first. she doesn't believe that it would be healthy with his current mental state to jump into another connection so quickly. instead, they take the time, they sit and study so that he can get better at being the chairman, she strokes his hair and protects him from his night terrors whenever he accidentally falls asleep at her place, and he talks to a third party to pinpoint who exactly he is amongst all the messes he's been forced through. she reminds him that there's a little jang hanseo sitting inside of him, in a little locked room that he's kept to himself because he doesn't want to see his true self get abused when his brother has taken everything else from him. he wanted to keep that side of him to himself, at least there was something that he could protect. honestly, going through therapy, he allows himself to realise that the idea of unlocking that room absolutely terrifies him. bc what if he retreats back into that dark place again? what if he allows himself to care for miri but he can't protect them like he couldn't protect his parents, or anyone else around him? and it takes a lot of effort to even get there.

but miri takes him aside, brushes her hand against his and tells him that she loves him for the first time. mind you, this is about a year after the events of the show, but they've been growing side by side this whole time, and when miri loves, she falls deeply. she realises now that she was so absorbed in the thrill of liking someone like vinny, after all, everyone seemed to be romantically interested in that man. but she understands that there wasn't really any truth to it. she's found it hard in the past to feel attachments or really any sort of attraction to people, living a very secular life. so that's why, when she sees these very visceral reactions to the man's looks, she honestly couldn't help but internally look at him the same way. it's like the awe that one may feel when they view a great piece of art, or an amazing scene in a film. there's always a disconnect between the viewer and the subject at hand. but it was a different matter when it came to her puppy.

she'd remembered the first time that she saw him, ducking behind pillars, looking like he was trying to be some goofy spy in that smart suit of his. he'd raise a hand to swipe away a few strands that would fall across his forehead and she couldn't help but wish that she knew what it was like to run her fingers through his hair. the attraction was like a lightning bolt that shot straight through her spine - and that was terrifying to her. so the initial times, she finds that she doesn't purposefully try to interact with the man. happy to stand and observe. miri has gotten so used to being the observer. never the participator.

that changed when he got himself sent to the hospital after being shot. the residents whispered behind palms about how the young man had saved their infamous lawyer pair, but she couldn't help but curse the italian. she knows of his prowess, she knows that he has ten times the fighting ability compared to hanseo. she would stomp back to her studio, something wild spreading across her mannerisms - utterly confusing any other resident around.

in all honesty, she's never been one for hospitals. but she makes hanseo food everyday. she doesn't trust whatever they give patients in hospitals anyway, and she knows that she has a few cooking tricks up her sleeve. they never really see each other, and she has always asked another resident to take the food to him. (a different one every time. she doesn't really know how she'd respond if anyone ever questioned her actions, especially when she's not completely sure why she's doing what she's doing either ... ) it takes a couple of days, but she slowly moves to his rhythm. taking notice of the foods that he likes, the ones that he didn't. now stopping outside of his hospital room to peer through the little window, elated at the look of sheer happiness that spreads across his puppy-dog features every time he sees a visitor with an entourage of containers for him. (maybe this is where his pet. name came from). even as things become a bit more normal, and he finds himself over in the plaza more often, the two would continue to peak glances at each other. her, wanting to see him smile like that again. him, mildly hurt that the only girl who had been playing on his mind for months had not gone to see him in the hospital. it's only after he finally asks her, and she abruptly poses whether he would like to study with her every night, does one of the other residents let miri's daily cooking habits slip.

she notices the distinct shift in his behaviour towards her, but he won't ever discuss the new nugget of knowledge till years later, and she'll get flushed and embarrassed at the fact that he's known all this time.

anyways, it takes a year and a half of talking twice a week to crack down on the deepest fears that hanseo has held onto for so long. all the residents know when it's happened bc they see the visible change. he's similar to how he's always been, but it seems like there's something lighter about him. like there's something that has been finally put to rest; the man looks like he has found a little bit of the peace that he deserves, at very last. when he visits the plaza, he's gotten rid of the stiff suits in dark colours. this rigid business attire had been his method of camouflaging into a wall of corporate faces - maybe his brother would aim a sharp object at the wrong person, one of those that he had cloned himself into looking like around him. it worked on some occasions. but this experience had taught him that these clothing decisions had become survival for him, and that was surely not a sustainable way to continue living. so most residents would stop to flick their eyes over the young man as he passes. his simple caramel turtleneck and blazer combo seeming too settled in the middle of the two extremes that the male usually fell in between.

rumour has it, the man literally dipped the apple to his eye, the woman who had waited for him to get healthy for a year and a half, the only sun he sees, nearly off of her feet when he steals their first kiss. they'd waited this long for it to occur, they may as well make it magical.

( are these crumbs okay?? hes not dead!! nope, that was false!! that never happened!!)

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puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years ago

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A Birthday Party for Liu Kang

Oh my god the spacing is all fucked and I’m so lazy. Uhghghghg nope it’s staying. The warring exes plan for Liu Kang’s second birthday. This is just before the third Mortal Kombat tournament.

Warring exes (obv) ft New Kang

Restored timeline

“The timing,” Shang Tsung purred as his swooping handwriting graced yet another piece of vellum, cordially inviting some (un)fortunate kombatant to the third tournament, “is fortuitous, pet. She is growing so quickly.”

A long-suffering sigh resounded from a chair near an ornate bassinet in the sorcerer’s book-lined study. Under the light of an enchanted lamp, a book lay upon the lap of Raiden, the former thunder god and protector of Earthrealm—he had been this in another life, another time, and only he remembered it—but his eyes were not on the tome. Rather they rested upon Shang Tsung, who continued writing, even as he spoke.

The child cooed and rubbed her eyes with small, balled fists. She was a bit over eighteen months old, by Shang Tsung’s calculation. They had decided her first birthday was within a day or so of her arrival upon their island and, with that agreed, went about their business with the addition of an infant.

“You would celebrate Liu Kang’s birthday—”

“With the opening ceremony of the Mortal Kombat tournament, yes,” Shang Tsung responded smoothly, rolling the scroll and reaching for the wax spoon which lay near a small brazier. It was old, and long-stained red, as if seeking to pay homage to the blood which would be spilled at the tournament its presence represented. “Kombatants will present tribute and earn our favor.”

Closing his strange eyes and shaking his head, a look of amusement (and familiarity) upon his face, Raiden closed his book and set it aside. “They do not require my favor,” he said.

“Then it will be mine they shall earn,” answered the sorcerer simply, waving one hand about as if it was of no real consequence whose favor was earned, just that one of the two primary occupants of this strange island was pleased.

Liu Kang cooed again, this time reaching upward, her bright eyes catching the light of the braziers around the room and sparkling with vitality. Leaning down toward the bassinet, Raiden grasped the blanket on either side of her and, ensuring she was wrapped completely, lifted the child and held her close. She reached for his face and he deftly dodged, holding her a little ways away from him.

She snatched at his medallion, at his hat, at whatever her small hands might lay upon. Cackling as only babies can, she flailed about and kicked her feet within the beautifully damascened blanket. The magic radiated off it in waves and it made Raiden feel more than a little giddy, but Shang Tsung had enchanted it so that he could hold his daughter, so giddiness was a small price to pay.

Striding across the fine rugs of the study, toward Shang Tsung, his desk, and its growing pile of Mortal Kombat invitations, Raiden tilted the child so she could watch the sorcerer lay the wax seal and press the sacred symbol into it. The symbol, he thought wryly, of the Elder Gods—no… of the One Being. Do we invite disaster by once more using it? He dismissed the thought, however, focusing instead on the things he could influence, the here and now. He watched Shang Tsung lift the seal, observed the perfection of the lines, the way the light seemed to catch with particular fervor in the eye of the dragon. Does it watch us? Does it mock?

Setting the scroll aside, Shang Tsung reached for Liu Kang and Raiden handed her gently over, taking care to avoid the fresh wax, the brazier, and the spoon. The sorcerer settled her upon his lap and began bouncing his knee, gesturing to a seat which was closer to his desk. Raiden sank into it with a lightness and grace uncharacteristic of a man his size. There were, in Shang Tsung’s memory, no men his size, however—or not many, anyway. At seven feet tall and some, he certainly stood out in a crowd, but that had not been the sole contributing factor to the sorcerer’s near-fatal attraction.

Had he been asked, he might have expressed his interest in the workings of the divinities. As Lord Liu Kang was otherwise occupied and had done him the immense favor of providing his emissary—it was a clever deception and one Raiden no longer maintained and had not for quite some time—as a teacher, trainer, and mentor, it was only natural that Shang Tsung would want to know more about him. This was not untrue, of course, but the desire was much deeper, much more fundamental. It was, in fact, so deep, that now he had acquired his “prize”, rather than growing weary of him, the desire had intensified. It was truly fathomless, just the way Shang Tsung preferred it. What, after all, was life without mystery?

“The Wu-Shi take a vow of poverty, Tsung,” Raiden reminded the sorcerer. Shang Tsung knew when he was being sweet-talked, of course. Raiden was an open book and when he used the man’s given name, it was a sure sign. But he was feeling indulgent. Liu Kang shrieked and grabbed for one of the baubles in Shang Tsung’s hair. A flick of his head removed the target from her reach and she grunted, eyes wide with surprise. Object permanence had, evidently, not yet set in.

“The gifts needn’t be rich,” said the sorcerer, “only meaningful. It is the… thought that counts, is it not, o’ fulminator?”

Raiden nodded. Shang Tsung would have his way, he knew, and there was little use arguing. Maybe it would not be so strange. There was nothing terribly conventional about the tournament anyway. This time, it was fair—Shang Tsung had not developed the habit of sending multiple opponents at one he simply wanted to see ended—and every realm had a chance to earn their place among the ranks of champions. Kung Lao would be returning, of course, and Raiden looked forward to seeing the sincere monk once more. With Kung Lao, however, would be his divine teacher, Liu Kang—the original—and with him would come questions.

Lord Liu Kang had not visited Shang Tsung’s island since his trip there to compete in his tournament. He had not even set foot upon this timeline’s island. Raiden had handled all of that, having met Shang Tsung in the teaming streets of a bustling, busy city. He had no idea that Raiden was raising a child with their formerly bitterest enemy. It would be… incongruous, to say the least.

He had no doubt he could explain all of it to Liu Kang; the man was nothing if not reasonable. All the same, he knew he should have mentioned it before now! How many times had he gone to be with Liu Kang, at his side at the Dawn of Time, to advise him on some question or shifting of sands? How many opportunities had there been? Would Liu Kang see this as yet another breach of his trust? Not nearly so bad as murdering him, Raiden justified, and then flinched back from himself and that memory, but a betrayal nevertheless.

“Would you hide her away?” Shang Tsung’s tone was not accusatory—it never was—but curious, genuinely sincere in its question. “From whom, I wonder?” This was not sincere in the least. Shang Tsung did not wonder; he knew. He was many things, but a fool was not one of them. Raiden sighed heavily once more, shaking his head.

“He does not know of her,” Raiden confirmed, “and it is my doing. I… sought to…” He looked down at his hands, arcs of electricity dancing over them. “I… am unsure what I sought to do. The opportunity—”

“Never presented itself,” the sorcerer filled in, good-naturedly. He did not presume to judge the motives of gods, lest they judge him. That, he had long since reasoned, could be disastrous. Best stay out of the business of celestial beings and feign righteousness, or whatever passed for it in his case. “You go to Lord Liu Kang to consult in matters of cosmic importance, not to tell him of the child who is named after him.”

“I…” Raiden knew when he was being toyed with. He also knew when Shang Tsung was right. Shaking his head once more, he straightened and met the man’s eyes. “It was not the time, and not my place. It was—is—our place to present Liu Kang as ours… whenever we choose.” Whenever you choose, was the unspoken thought, though oddly enough, not without affection. Liu Kang responded to her name by slapping her fat little hands together and gabbling nonsense. It was not what one would call applause, but it delighted the sorcerer and he ran his fingers over her hair, praising her vocalizations.

“You are right, of course,” said Shang Tsung, as if conceding a point. Raiden’s whole form seemed to sag a little, but there was really nothing for it. The longer he waited, the worse it would appear, as if he really was trying to hide the child. Besides, he had other things on his mind regarding the situation, things with which only Lord Liu Kang could assist him. He would require her presence to make his point anyway and, after all, he was not ashamed of her. Quite the opposite was the case, in fact. She made him happier than he could ever recall being and, in a life as long as his, this was remarkable. Her debut would be, in a word, opulent.

Liu Kang squealed with delight and held her hands out toward Raiden, who received her once more. Shang Tsung took great care to ensure the enchanted blanket stayed in place as the child curled up in the thunder god’s huge arms and immediately stuck her finger into her mouth. She was tempestuous, this one, and though she shared more in common, looks-wise, with Shang Tsung, the explosive force of her demands were nothing less than thunderous. He said so, and then suggested the three of them take supper in their chambers, sending for a servant with a wave of his hand.

The journey upward was filled with bowing and genuflecting servants, a cooing baby, and gently murmured speech between the two, of this or that or nothing in particular. Shang Tsung was concerned with the overall presentation of his island, wondering if they ought to string lanterns at the docks, or float them upon the water. Raiden reminded him that the beasts beneath the waves might not appreciate such an intrusion and so on it went until they were seated at the small table within their chambers and served.

As the utensils were sterling silver, Raiden could only watch while Shang Tsung spoon fed the child he had long thought of as his daughter—he had never said this, unsure what Shang Tsung’s reaction might be; he knew he was being foolish, once more, but the nagging doubt still crept its way into his mind—and wish there was some enchantment that would allow him to do this. She was grasping at more solid food, like bread now, and would not need to be coddled like this much longer. In point of fact, the only reason the sorcerer did it was to spare her the indignity of covering her embroidered bib with fresh peaches. His eyes found Raiden’s presently, however, and dark, finely-plucked brows knitted.

“What troubles you, pet?” He left off feeding Liu Kang and set the small spoon aside, shifting in his seat so he could lean over and place a practiced, wicked hand upon Raiden’s thigh. He felt the muscle tremble under his fingers, a pleasing sensation that was not all voluntary. Some of it was most assuredly that deadly current of which the man was made, that most dangerous of traits which attracted Shang Tsung without end. He was eager, but not impatient; the same could not be said of their daughter.

Liu Kang pounded the finished wood of the lacquered high chair in which she sat. It, like her bassinet, was carved with dragons and gilded. Unlike the bassinet, however, there were no gems or mother-of-pearl. Food splatter made such a thing unwise, as did searching little hands—all the gems upon the bassinet were in unreachable places, for now. Shang Tsung had been thinking lately that she was due for an upgrade, perhaps a proper bed, albeit a small one, with rails. There was a prototype of an idea in his workshop far below the bedchambers already, in fact, but for now it was just an idea.

“The tournament, I suppose,” Raiden admitted. This was half true and, for now, good enough for the sorcerer, who nodded.

“Fifty years it has been since your Fire God’s student, Kung Lao—ah, but he is known as the Great Kung Lao now, isn’t he? Fifty years since he triumphed and secured Earthrealm’s safety. He was a fool to spare me, you know. Your Lord Liu Kang should have taught the brave monk to be more ruthless.” The smile on the sorcerer’s face was absolutely feral. Raiden sighed.

“It is not in him to take a life when the victory has already been won, Shang Tsung,” Raiden chided. “He is a monk—more than that, he is an Earthrealmer.” And I would not lose you.

“Earthrealmers are soft,” spat the sorcerer. Liu Kang squealed at the tone and pounded the seat once more. She did not speak yet, but these syllables sounded like “MORE”. Reaching over toward her, Shang Tsung placed a finely-manicured finger upon her lips and clucked at her, shaking his head. Her eyes widened with a strange understanding and she was quiet, grasping at his finger, which he allowed her to hold. The movement had caused his hand to leave Raiden’s leg and, in the meantime, the thunder god shifted in his seat, crossing his arms and offering the strange ghost of a half-smile for Shang Tsung’s perusal.

“You are an Earthrealmer,” he observed.

“Cheeky,” purred the sorcerer, unperturbed. He reached out and unfolded Raiden’s arms, which of course the man allowed, and took one of those hands, grasping it with deliberate firmness. Lifting the knuckles to his lips, he first grazed with them, then pressed them firmly. Even unadorned, they were fine, beautiful, worthy of admiration, and sparking with electricity. One does not bed a deity without a healthy tolerance for pain—perhaps even a craving, he reminded himself as the arcs of power touched his lips and threatened.

He rose to the threat, the challenge, and pressed his lips down again, a little higher up, closer to the wrist. Raiden was, as ever, adorned in blue and white, but the robes were more flowing now, less tailored for kombat (though that would not stop him) and more for indolent lounging—reading and meditating were two of the thunder god’s favorite activities.

The ever-present hat disguised very little from the sorcerer who, nevertheless, snatched it off Raiden’s head in one fluid motion and tossed it aside almost carelessly. Almost. He knew how much the silly thing meant to Raiden and would never have done anything to damage it, even in jest. As Raiden leaned to reach for it, Shang Tsung also leaned, serpentine and powerful, capturing those oh-so-formerly-chaste lips in a forceful kiss.

Liu Kang squealed at this, too, though as ever, she had no idea at what, precisely, she was squealing. She was also clapping in her stilted way and this brought laughter bubbling from between the two men, caught halfway between the ground and a fiery kiss. Had it been two less dignified people, they might have tumbled from their seats with it.

They did not. Righting themselves, clasping hands, they did continue to laugh.. Their laughter fueled that of the child and Liu Kang gabbled and slapped her pudgy hands together with the delight of whatever they were enjoying.

“You are, as ever, far too critical of yourself, dear Raiden,” said the sorcerer, once more lifting the hand he still held. Rather than kissing it, however, he squeezed it meaningfully, desirous to one day see at least some little bit of opulence thereupon—something simple, perhaps. Raiden did look exquisite in gold. Gold, Shang Tsung considered, and perhaps nothing else. The thought was lascivious, so he kept it to himself, but it must have shown in his eyes for Raiden’s expression had turned to one of chiding. Or perhaps this was in response to what the sorcerer had said. “I speak only truth.”

“As you have ever done,” Raiden admitted. Shang Tsung had, in their decades together, never once lied to him, not actively, or by omission. He had always told the god of thunder everything which was on his mind—everything. It was this openness and trust which had saved him. It was what had saved them both. Raiden felt as if it was now his turn to be the serpentine deceiver and he misliked it. What horrified him most was his own skill at the art of subterfuge and deception, but not with Shang Tsung. They had seen too much, done too much together for such things. But Liu Kang did not know, nor did his brother, whom he had not seen since departing for the new timeline.

So much had happened to them in a comparatively short amount of time, but that was no excuse. Life had simply happened at its normal speed, for a mortal, and Raiden was, admittedly, still adjusting thereto. He had become a teacher once more, a mentor, and a lover. He could still picture the moment in time where everything had changed, where he, hopefully, had altered the course of time for the better.

A much younger Shang Tsung—he could not have been a day over thirty-five at the time—had looked to Raiden in those awful moments at the end of the first tournament, standing over the desiccated husk of what had once been his mighty, final opponent, the man’s glowing soul clutched in his hand. Rather than turning away, the thunder god’s expression had been one of passive approval. The minute nod he gave was all the permission the sorcerer required and he took the soul into himself, lifting both fists and declaring himself victor.

That moment had changed everything. Raiden's approving acknowledgement of his student's hard-won victory shifted the very sands of time, such that Fire God Liu Kang, the new keeper thereof, had offered commentary when they met later that evening. With that simple gesture, Raiden had set Shang Tsung upon a higher path, one he was elated to walk as well, hand-in-hand.

#cc #cw #mortal kombat #warring exes #raiden #shang tsung #new kang #restored timeline

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thedeathdeelers · 4 years ago

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have a snippet of the shes the man AU that i am not writing

——

“Speaking as a completely objective third party observer, I don’t- I just don’t think you and Kayla really mesh well together.” Julie twists her fingers together as she stares at the ceiling, not really believing she’s having this conversation right now.

What is she doing?

“But you and Julie, I mean, that has the potential to be magical,” Julie bounces up, restless and unable to keep her mouth shut the longer Luke stays quiet.

“What does your heart want?”

“...what?”

“I mean,” Julie quickly flops back onto the bed horrified, and scrambles for a “guys talk” kind of answer.

“Who do you want to see naked?” Now she’s done it. She hates herself.

#what if everyone just added a snippet until #we manage to write the whole thing #just a big collab #because basically i just want to read it #jatp #she’s the man au

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littlemindblabbles · 4 years ago

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On-screen, Off-screen

Pairing: Jun x Y/N

Summary: You’re given the once-in-a-lifetime opportuinity to act in a music video alongside your idol, Wen Junhui. But is he really as nice in real life as he is on screen?

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (final)

Jun seemed determined not to bring up any indication that the morning’s events even took place. He continued acting like your costar/friend, making jokes with you but still going through the afternoon scenes with you. Meanwhile, it was torturing you. You didn’t know how to look at him without thinking of his lips on yours, as well as the caring, almost loving, look he gave you during his ‘confession’. But as all good things come to an end, tomorrow was the last day of filming and after that, you’ll never have to see Jun in real life again. Technically, this should work out in your favour, your one-sided feelings for him would turn back into just an infatuation, and you don’t have to worry about him breaking your heart by rejecting you.

You continued about your day mostly on autopilot, not wanting to let out too many emotions lest Jun finds out your true feelings towards him. He seemed to notice though, asking you if you were alright throughout the day.

“Jun, really I’m fine. Please just go do your own things, I’m sure you’re really busy. I’ll see you tomorrow, last day whoo!” Ugh, even you could tell your enthusiasm was fake as hell. Jun obviously didn’t seem convinced.

“Well okay, even though I really don’t believe you. But hey, if this was about this morning’s stuff. Sorry, I didn’t say anything about it but I thought it would lessen the awkwardness. But don’t take anything too seriously, it was all for show don’t worry. Forget it ever happened.” The more Jun talked, the more he was breaking your heart into millions of pieces. As much as you expected it, the outright rejection even before you confessed hurt so freaking much.

Struggling to hold back your tears, you gave a small smile nodded, and ran out the door, ignoring the calls of Jun from behind you.

You couldn’t help it, you decided to close off your emotions while going to work the next day. You didn’t want to admit it, but you spent a large majority of your evening the previous day crying your heart out. It was stupid, falling for someone you knew you would never have a chance with, but you let yourself have a night of self-pity and giving into your emotions.

However, Jun, being ever observant, noticed the drastic change in your behaviour. The two of you usually spent your breaks together, joking with the stylists or going through scenes, but when you tried to excuse yourself to go to your private dressing room for the third time today, he caught your arm at the last minute and pulled you back, frowning.

“Don’t even try to bullshit me anymore Y/N. I am really hurt you think I’m an idiot. What is going on? Why are you acting like this?” You pulled your arm away from his hand, ignoring the feeling you got while he was touching you. You gave a nervous laugh which you hope was convincing as your mind raced through different excuses to see which was the most believable.

“I’m not trying to test your stupidity, Jun. I really am okay, I guess I’m currently feeling a bit weird because you know, it’s our last day and since it’s my first ever acting role, I’m gonna miss it. Didn’t think I’d get attached this quickly but I did.” You sigh out, only half lying. You were gonna miss coming to set every day, and of course, working with everyone here.

Fortunately, Jun seemed to believe you. He smiles and pats your head as though you were a child. You inwardly cringed, nothing hurts more than your crush thinking of you as a little sister or something. But your director saved you from making any more (very awkward) conversation by calling the both of you to the next scene.

“And with that, thank you, everybody, it’s a wrap!” Everyone around you started cheering, some of the staff even brought out a small cake for Jun and you. You couldn’t help but shed a few tears, you couldn’t believe your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was coming to an end. Jun noticed you crying and placed an arm around you, letting you hide your face in his chest. The staff all aww-ed at the sight of the both of you, and you continued hiding your face so that everyone couldn’t see your blushing face.

“Okay, let’s all head to eat dinner together, one last time, and here’s the best part: it’s on me!” Yelled the director and everyone began to celebrate. One by one they made their way out of the room, indistinct chatter getting louder. You called out just as the last few people were leaving, Jun included.

“Hey, not trying to be a party pooper but you guys go ahead. I had a bad night and I’m really tired. I’ll head home to catch up on sleep. Don’t worry I’ll meet you guys another time. Have fun!” You gave a small smile and gestured at them to leave. Jun looked like he was about to object and say something, but studied your face for a second then decided not to and left.

Once you no longer heard the sound of footsteps, you finally let out all the emotions which had been plaguing you for the entire day. This would be the last time you’ll ever be here, and you wanted to put aside your feelings together with the whole experience. Just give me this moment to be weak, I’ll never cry over him after.

“Y/N?” A voice cuts through your mini sobbing party. You panic, trying to wipe your tears dry and come up with a reasonable explanation as to why you were having a breakdown in the middle of the set. To your absolute horror, the voice belonged to Jun.

Unable to take it anymore, you started crying again. However, this time you were crying so hard it was really ugly sobs and heaving because you were losing the ability to breathe properly.

“Y/N please, don’t cry. What happened, I promise I’ll help you fix it. Everything would be okay. I know this feeling is sad, but I’m sure you’ll have more opportunities in the future, and it’s not like you can’t meet these people again. Please stop crying, it hurts me so much to see you like this.” Jun was hugging you, there was no denying the arms around your chest. He was running his hands up and down your back, trying to soothe you and you swear he just kissed your hair.

Instead of helping you, you broke down into even harder crying. How? How does he act so well? From his actions, you desperately want to think that Jun cares, but your brain tells you not to ignore reality. Jun really seems concerned now, and since you kind of want to remain friends with him, you try your best to calm yourself down.

“Uh. sorry about that. I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I thought you went for dinner?” You attempted to give a smile, but in all your tears, it was pathetic at best. Jun looked even more pained and hugged you tighter. Ignoring the ache in your heart, you continued. “You know me, just being all emotional. I mean you probably are used to it, but it’s all so new to me. And I may not get another opportunity like this. I don’t think I’m that lucky.”

“Y/N please, I know that isn’t the main reason as to why you’re crying as though someone broke your heart.” You grimaced, how could he guess so easily and see right through you? Jun immediately noted your reaction and continued, “So I’m correct, someone did break your heart. Who is it? Is it one of the people who worked with us? I swear I’ll kill him.”

“Stop it!” You scream, finally having enough. Jun looks shocked and takes a small step away from you, his arms leaving your shoulders where he was rubbing them comfortingly. “How cruel can you be? You’re an amazing actor I know, but isn’t it a bit too mean? To play with my feelings like this? If this is how you wanna treat me then I’d rather you treat me with that cold indifference you had on the first day we met. At least then I’d know my feeling for you are completely one-sided and stupid. At least let me move on alright since I won’t ever see you again.” Now it’s Jun’s turn to look confused. He takes another step towards you and uses his hand to lift your face which was looking at the floor.

“Wait, did you just confess to me? You like me too? I thought I was the crazy one for feeling that way for you, how could anyone like me after I treated them like shit, especially on the first day they meet their idol. I meant everything I said yesterday during filming. Seeing you run off to cry during the spinning affected me a lot more than I thought it would. So I decided to let down my barriers for once and help you out. From there, falling for you was so natural, but I felt like an idiot for saying not to get any ideas, so I tried to brush off my confession. I didn’t want you to feel burdened by my words and feelings, so I thought pretending nothing happened would be the best course of action. Apparently, I was very wrong though.” Towards the end of his speech, Jun’s smile slowly got bigger as he tugged you closer and closer towards him, his arms around your waist.

“So can we do this now for real?” He shyly asks before pecking you softly on your lips.

Your face turns crimson red and you hug him tighter, burying your face into his chest. Jun laughs adorably and the vibrations of his chest cause you to look back up at him. Then he scratches the back of his neck and Wen Junhui looks nervous?

“You know, the reason why I keep my life private, was because I didn’t want the media to find out all these embarrassing things about me. Like how I’ve never actually dated anyone before and therefore I am completely lost in the relationship department.” He grins sheepishly in the end, causing your entire heart to explode.

The both of you agree to take things slow, it’s not like you had that much experience either. For starters, you were gonna go for the team dinner tonight. As a couple. (In secret of course)

Jun stretches his arms out, indicating to the door. However, the moment you grabbed it, he pulls you back into the warmest hug ever. The both of you stay like that for a long time, enjoying how it felt to be in each other’s arms for real finally.

He then kisses you lightly, blushing hard. Before you could even react, he says “Race you!” and runs out of the door. Smiling, you started running to keep up with him.

It’s been a month since you got together, but today standing next to him your nerves were still spiraling out of control. Why? Because you were currently holding on to your boyfriend’s arm on the red carpet premiere of said boyfriend’s new movie. It was your first-ever red carpet event and furthermore, it was the first public appearance of both of you together. Sensing your nervousness, Jun placed his arms over yours and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Jun-ssi, can you tell us about the beautiful lady on your arm tonight? If I am not mistaken, she was your co-star from the recent MV you filmed?” Jun smiled at the interviewer, that charismatic smile that made you fall in love with him through a screen all those years ago. You still couldn’t believe the fact that you were looking at it in real life really. Jun looked at you again before answering, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes, this is Y/N, she’s so amazingly talented and I had no choice but to fall for her while I was filming. She makes me want to be a better person every day.”

Would the ground just swallow you up, you couldn’t handle what Jun was saying to millions of people worldwide. The interviewer actually looks surprised at his response, you’re sure he was expecting Jun to deflect the question as usual. He quickly regains his composure, and actually turns to you.

“Hi Miss Y/N, pleasure to meet you this evening, now I’m sure everyone is dying to know more about you. Would you like to say a few words?” After a reassuring squeeze from your boyfriend, you started out shakily before gaining more confidence.

“Uh, hi everyone, I’m Y/N. I just started acting with the MV I shot with Jun butttt, I do have a mini web series coming up next month on Viu and many more exciting projects lined up! Hope you’ll all anticipate them and also please support Jun’s new movie today!” You smiled at the end and bowed towards the camera.

Once you stood up again, Jun took you by surprise, kissing you sweetly at the side of your head and grins.

“That’s my girl.”

THE END

Note: Aaaaaargh, finally done with this mini series! This was a really loooong chapter but I really had to get their story out! Please check out my other fics here :)

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fics #seventeen fic #svt fics #kpop #kpop seventeen #kpop fics #kpop fluff #kpop angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #junhui #wen junhui #jun #svt scenarios

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eqt-95 · 3 years ago

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s'mores

"You're doing it again."

"Hm?"

"You're on fire."

"I'm on-? Oh shit," Kate muttered with a slew of other curses, swinging the flaming ball of sugar from the end of her found branch. She shot Melvin and James a threatening look through the wave of snickers hidden behind their boyish grins.

"You sure you've done this before, City Slicker?" Melvin continued teasing.

"Yes," Kate growled, secretly grateful the tinge of afternoon sun could hide the burn from her cheeks. The glow of fire from the pit sitting in the middle of the group also added a distorted hue to everything. Plus nightfall cast a reasonable amount of ambiguity over the group. Honestly, Kate was looking for any excuse she could to deflect from embarrassment.

A fluffy white pillow appeared in Melvin's outstretched hand as an olive branch, and Kate begrudgingly took it, piercing it over the burnt crisp that remained from her last two failures.

"Maybe if you spent a little more attention on the marshmallow and a little less on-"

Whatever Melvin was going to say was drowned out by a sea of laughter coming from the other side of the fire. The side where Kate's attention wandered to. The side where she sat, her back poised up against a dead log, her long legs shifting between scrunched up, bound by her arms and stretched out and soaking in the heat radiated off the burning driftwood onto her bare skin. Her warm, soft-

"I'll take that," came Melvin's voice and with it the tug of the stick from Kate's hand.

She was hopelessly distracted; had been all day. It wasn't her fault. No living person should carry the laugh of two dozen angels or smile with the glow of the damn sun. How could anyone expect to carry on a conversation when the alternative was to stumble over words in lieu of hearing her voice instead. Or better yet, why would anyone remember how to swim when that was simply a distraction from watching the controlled, focused way she slid through the water. And certainly why would Kate Kane give a fuck about the bubbling skin of a marshmallow when she could watch the orange light flicker and glow off her skin.

"You could go talk to her."

"You say that like I'm a six year-old with a crush."

"Aren't you?" James asked.

It annoyed her when James chimed in. It wasn't because she didn't like James. It was that if James was clued in, it meant something incredibly obvious was being said.

Kate opened her mouth to argue but was rendered speechless when she looked up to see the spot opposite her sat empty. Her eyes darted around, squinting into the darkness beyond in search of her. She couldn't have just disappeared. Maybe she'd-

"Hey, what does a girl need to get a toasted marshmallow around here?"

Kate choked. On what, she had no idea. It was probably her spit, but that was more mortifying to admit than pretending it was a fly or the wind or something invisible.

"Wh-I-uh…"

To a third-party observer, the comical timing of Melvin's arm thrusting the marshmallowed skewer back into Kate's personal space would have triggered a laugh track. Fortunately for Kate, she was the only witness, but even then she still nearly dropped the gift horse onto the sand as he handed off the sugary baton.

"Uh, yea, I… er, I've been known to, you know… er, roast a good marshmallow."

Kate Kane was not normally an idiot, but somehow Sophie Moore had a knack for jamming the signal between Kate's brain and her mouth. Saying she regressed to a cavewoman was an insult to cavewomen. She was practically a potato. And honestly, even potatoes might object.

"Oh yea? You write your admissions essay on your unparalleled roasting abilities? That slow, rotisserie-style turning technique to ensure only the most consistent, caramelly, bubbly skin encapsulating the decadent, soft, gooshing center of the… uh, Kate?"

"Yea?"

"You're on fire."

Kate wished she was on fire. She wanted to roll right into the fire and face the same charred fate as her third failed marshmallow. Melvin and James didn't have the heart to laugh this time. Instead they flinched away, finding an adjacent log to occupy while the meltdown that was Kate's pride spilled onto the log and then the sand and then the fire and finally into the water beyond. Minnows were feasting on the remnants of Kate Kane. Her tombstone would surely read 'couldn't even roast a fucking marshmallow.'

"Here," Sophie smirked, slipping her fingers around the stick and tugging it away from Kate's unresponsive hand.

Kate relied on silence to guide the next few minutes. Silence and Sophie monologuing about the nuanced ways of properly toasting a marshmallow. The stick rolled seamlessly between Sophie's fingers, setting the pale pillow just within reach of the flickering flames. It was mesmerizing. If all Kate did for the rest of her life was watch Sophie Moore toast marshmallows, she'd be content.

At least, that was until Sophie proceeded to sandwich her perfectly roasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and a slice of Hershey's. Then Kate could have spent the rest of her life watching Sophie Moore bite into the s'more; bite into it and make an absolute mess of everything.

It was everywhere. Kate could have cared less about marshmallows ten minutes ago, but now she was so unbelievably jealous of the strings of melted sugar stretching and catching on Sophie chin, her cheek, her chest, her-

"You'd think I'd never eaten a s'more before. Is it kosher to just lick it off of everywhere?"

"I could help."

"What?"

Idiot.

"Uh, with the, uh… I can… here," Kate choked, swiping up a napkin and waving it a conservative distance from anywhere remotely close to Sophie's skin.

"That's not gonna cut it."

"The.. with the, I can… soap?"

"Soap?" Sophie chuckled. "On the beach."

"Sand?" Kate offered instead.

What a miserable existence. The only silver lining was that Kate had said two real words consecutively without stumbling over her tongue.

"Definitely more accessible but far from practical."

"Right."

"I have an idea."

Then Sophie stood up. Sophie stood up and stripped. Not completely, of course. That would have sent Kate into epileptic shock. No, Sophie did nothing that graphic, but the way she shimmied out of her shirt and cut-off shorts to reveal her bikini from earlier that afternoon set Kate's skin ablaze in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. Or the sun. Or the graveyard of burnt marshmallows.

"What are you doing?"

Four words. A new record.

"Well I'm not about to roll around in the sand."

Kate blinked. Processing. Whirring. Her brain flickered with understanding. "You're going into the water?"

"You coming?"

"Am I… w-with you?"

"Is there anyone else?"

"In the water."

Sophie's head turned in confusion, her eyes narrowing humorously back at Kate.

"You scared?"

"Scared? Me?" Kate repeated, and that's when she felt it: the flare of a challenge. Through months of skittishly toeing the edge, unable to articulate anything beyond a mound of farm animal noises, she had passively watched. She was an awkward observer around Sophie Moore. Nowhere else in her life did she occur this way, but Sophie was different. Kate wanted to impress her. She wanted to be smart and clever for her. She wanted to go toe-to-toe not because she wanted to beat her, but because Kate saw how Sophie could bring out the best in her. The only problem was Kate didn't know how to tap into that… until now.

She climbed to her feet faster than Sophie could register what was happening, and in the blink of an eye Kate had burst past her. "Last one in takes mess hall duty for a month!"

"Oh, you are on, Kane!"

#batmoore #batwoman #sophie moore #kate kane #fanfi #ao3 #oneshot

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sondepoch · 5 years ago

Text

XXIII: Saeran's Route (Y/N)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST

When it came to formalwear, you'd only ever seen Saeran in his black suit, back at the Mint Eye.

And he, your usual believers' robes and the magenta dresses that Rika had forced you to wear.

As such, it was a pleasant surprise for the two of you to see each other the morning of the RFA party—Saeran, in a white tuxedo selected by Saeyoung, and you, in a delicate (f/c) dress that hung at your knees.

"You look beautiful, princess." Saeran pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as soon as the two of you stepped out of the car. He'd been eyeing you since you slipped the dress on, but had evidently held back in all your haste to arrive at the party. Now that the three of you were here, though, he seemed to pay no mind to the venue, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"Your suit," You mumbled into Saeran's lips, eyes closed and unable to hold back a smile. "You look perfect in it."

If he heard your compliment, though, Saeran made no indication of such, ignoring even his brother's pleas for the three of you to come on and get inside already.

Finally, when you were breathless (and just a little needy) from the kiss, he released you.

"All right, let's go."

As you followed the twins into the party hall, you couldn't help but sigh at Saeran's inexplicable ability to kiss you as if he'd never kissed you before, and then act completely normal the next moment, as if nothing had happened.

He really doesn't know what he does to me, you realized with an amused smile. Though that only makes him more precious.

You entered the party hall, listening absentmindedly to Saeyoung's chatter as he talked to you about the previous parties that had been hosted. In truth, you didn't care much. All that mattered was the present, and the fact that this party hosted would directly help everyone who had been touched by the Mint Eye's distorted ways.

After this party, everything would go back to normal.

Everything.

All the believers and disciples would disband, find new paths to take in society. Rika herself was apparently under the care of V himself, and would also be given a chance to heal from the wounds she'd inflicted upon herself and others. And, perhaps most importantly, you and Saeran would finally be able to continue your relationship in peace. The Mint Eye would be a thing of the past, leaving only an unbound future for you to march into.

"Ah! Saeran, (Y/N), you made it!" You turned to see the calm smile of V. "I hope you'll both stay til the end of the party. I have a small surprise planned at the end that I'm sure you'll both enjoy."

"Saeyoung has decided that he won't leave until even the party cleanup has finished, so we'll definitely be here a while." You smiled warmly at the man who, somewhat inadvertently, had helped free you from your old life.

"That's good to hear. How have the two of you been faring in Saeyoung's bunker?"

The next few hours passed like that. Small chatter with the various guests, Saeran pulling you off to the side every now and then to whisper in your ear or to kiss you, Saeyoung pulling you two back into a new conversation.

When you escaped to the bathroom, you ran into MC, who seemed rather uncomfortable to be caught alone in your presence, especially now that she knew the full story about everything that had happened. She was by no means kind in her words, but her halfhearted "We should talk sometime" seemed like an unspoken offer to make amends. It wasn't anything tangible, but you suspected that, if things continued down that route, there might come a day when the two of you would be acquaintances. Maybe even friends.

You had the pleasure of meeting the people Saeyoung worked with at the RFA: from Yoosung, the blonde college student (who you learned was Rika's cousin) to Jumin, the executive corporate heir of some company that you recognized the name of from your orphanage days.

"V, isn't it time you began the final event?" A man named 'Zen' asked.

"Ah, you're right." V smiled and bowed his head lightly. "I hope you'll all excuse me."

Before he could go, though, Jumin spoke up.

"Truly, V? You're positive that you want to sell your pictures for this event?" The black-haired man seemed skeptical, and for good reason. You'd heard from Saeyoung that V's pictures were sought after in the industry, and selling them at this specific event (noble as the cause was) might not have been the best decision for the man's career.

"As things stand, this event hasn't raised enough finances to help all those affected by the Mint Eye. If selling my pictures can play a role in sealing this chapter of Rika's past...I'm sure she'll be much better for it."

"You really still want to be with her after everything she did to Saeran and (Y/N)?" Saeyoung's question was fueled more by curiosity than anger, or any past resentment, but it made V stiffen nonetheless.

"I understand that everyone has mixed feelings...but Rika is just as broken as her followers, maybe even more. I...I just want to help her heal. And hopefully, this time, things will be different. She now has the support of her family, after all." V smiled lightly and glanced at Yoosung. Upon hearing the word 'family,' the blonde seemed to burst with energy, his smile doubling in intensity.

As V walked toward the stage, leaving you all, you couldn't help but hear Saeyoung murmur somewhat wistfully, "At least Rika brings Yoosung happiness."

And as much as the woman had wronged you, you couldn't help but agree. The blonde boy seemed to radiate joy—and after being separated from Saeran only to reunite, you would recognize the look in his eye anywhere: bliss. Bliss and relief, at reattaining that which was once lost.

Before you could dwell on the matter further, though, V's clear voice echoed through the room. Instantly, all chatter ceased, and the guests turned their attention upon him.

Well, most guests.

As V politely thanked everyone for attending the party and spoke about the important sponsors, you turned to Saeran.

"How are you feeling?" You kept your voice low so that only he could hear you, knowing how mixed his feelings still were on V and this whole situation.

"Not as bad as I thought things would be. Better, since you're by my side." Saeran smiled softly down at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You couldn't help but lean into his touch when he laced his fingers in yours.

You wanted to say more, perhaps thank Saeran for even agreeing to come here in the first place with you, but before you could, the sound of cheering erupted all over you.

Oh.

V had begun the auction.

You watched as, all around you, people began bidding for his work. Indeed, you understood why the demand for his pictures was so high. As V unveiled album after album, you began to realize why he was a world-renowned photographer.

"Ah, this collection is one he's been asked to sell countless times. I'm glad he's finally releasing it to the public," Saeyoung murmured from next to you, providing you tidbits of information with each new album.

You watched in awe as four albums were revealed and sold, the first album sold off separately in pieces, but the others bid upon as full sets—and couldn't help but let your breath catch in your throat as each new picture was revealed.

Art.

There was no other way to describe it.

V's camera didn't just capture moments and scenes: he captured emotions.

The first album, Flowers in Laughter, left you shook with its brilliance—breaking down any questions you might have had in mind over V's capabilities.

The second, Myriad Memoir, almost scared you with how much raw emotion it brought forth.

When you saw the third, you almost forgot to breathe: each picture in Glass over Truth seeming to resonate with not just your heart but memories you thought long buried.

And even when your eyes settled over Observing Lies, when you were so confident that nothing else could shake you, your bottom lip trembled as you continued glancing from picture to picture.

You felt your heart rise and fall as each album took you on an emotional rollercoaster, bringing you to lows and highs, showing you sorrow and joy, and the delicate smidgens of hope buried underneath it all.

Truly, you couldn't look at a single one of his pictures and bear to tear your eyes away.

Your heart wouldn't let you.

And that, perhaps, was why when V's final album, was revealed, your entire body felt like it was short-circuiting.

"This album is a product of my most recent work. As many rumors have been circulating, my eyesight is indeed beginning to fail. But it is known that, in my work, I aim to photograph more than what our eyes can see—I photograph what the heart feels, and immortalize it. Which is why, despite my decreasing capabilities of vision, even I am not so blind as to fail to recognize the pure love that these individuals have in their hearts."

V pulled back the curtain that was revealing the final set of pictures, and Saeran's grip over your hand instantly tightened.

"This collection is my most prized work, a culmination of everything I sought to capture when I first decided to be a photographer. I call this album: Where Futures Begin."

Without even formally opening the bidding, people were already shouting numbers—every soul in the room wanting to own this masterpiece collection.

Because no matter how brilliant all V's previous works were, this album put them all to shame. There was no mistaking it: the angles and light and object organization left nothing to the imagination: looking at these pictures, even the biggest fools would have to see what V had managed to capture so beautifully.

You stared in awe.

Each image in the album was filled with the purest emotion: love.

Each image in the album was of you.

You and Saeran, to be specific.

You gazed at the first picture. The two of you were locked in a tight embrace just outside the Mint Eye, seeking not comfort in each others' arms but stability, as if in that time of turmoil the only reliable, unchanging foundation in your lives was each other.

The second image—you didn't even know that V had been present, but looking back it made sense that he would have seen it—was one of where the two of you were in the rain under a single umbrella. At the time, you hadn't even registered that both your outfits were varying shades of grey, but the black-and-white nature of your clothes and the background only made the splashes of color on both your cheeks all the more prominent as you clung to Saeran's sleeve while he gazed down at you adoringly, a rare smile eternalized on his face.

The third, a chaste kiss outside V's apartment when Saeyoung had brought the two of you there to speak with the man. You stared at it in awe, wondering how the image managed to capture the fleetingness of the kiss despite the lasting nature of the picture.

The photographs continued like that, all moments that you had never been aware that V had seen, but captured and developed nonetheless. He had found everything: chaste kisses, abashed glances, sweet laughs, even the wholesome hand-holding that Saeran used to be so averse to.

By some ridiculous miracle, the man had succeeded in photographing the two of you as Saeran kissed you so passionately just outside the party hall this morning, the fast-paced motion all around you only intensifying the intimacy of the moment when you two stood still to lose yourselves in each other. You couldn't help but wonder when V had found the time to develop a picture so last-minute, given that the moment had happened just hours ago, but found yourself shaking your head. The man, as proven by this album, seemed to work wonders.

There was even a picture with Saeyoung, a snapshot of the three of you laughing, and the dispersal of red hair throughout the image told as much a story as it did reveal the varying types of love in your relationship: brotherly, platonic, and—of course—romantic.

You felt a familiar heat rise to your cheeks as the unmistakable feeling bloomed in your chest. No doubt, every person in the room who was gazing upon those pictures was feeling it too.

Love.

And at the back of your mind, you remembered how V had quietly urged you and Saeran to stay—saying that he had a lovely surprise for you two at the end.

Why, this is the best surprise a person could receive.

You found yourself unable to take the smile off your face, the grin only emboldened by Saeyoung's voice joining on the current bidding war that was going on over this album.

"I want it!" He shouted, overly dramatic as usual. You had to force his hand down to get him to listen, but by then, Saeran was egging him on.

The glint of pride in both their eyes as they gazed upon your and Saeran's love immortalized almost prompted you to let the brothers do as they pleased, but you finally found your voice.

"No, guys." You forced them both to look you in the eye amidst all the chaotic bidding. "V called this album Where Futures Begin for a reason."

It was only then that they seemed to recall the album name, and it was then that they understood the meaning of your words.

Where futures begin. But not the future itself.

The album would go home to the house of a wealthy individual, likely one who didn't have the same love in their life as the three of you had in yours'. But that fact wouldn't matter to you. It shouldn't.

Because you had your whole lives ahead of you. Lives that were finally free of the past, no longer rooted in pain or misunderstandings or misery.

This album was V's gift to the three of you. It was a Congratulations! present in advance, commemorating the balance of love that the three of you would be sharing from that day and every day onward. Through thick and thin, that would become the new constant in your lives: the emotion that V had selected when he first saw the way you and Saeran gazed into each others' eyes. Love.

And while others would get to enjoy the sight of where your future together began, you all would have something so much better: the actual future.

At long last, you had finally reached a state where no one else would be able to steal that future away.

No, that future belonged to you, Saeran, and Saeyoung. No others.

A flame ignited in your heart at the thought, fanned by sudden thoughts of having to go through life without either of the boys that you'd grown so dependent on.

Though as you gazed upon their understanding faces and knowing smiles, you realized that there was no need to fear.

These two boys were your future.

Nothing would ever be able to take that away from you.

Fin.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: Wow. It feels so bittersweet, that this (my first series ever) is coming to a close after a total of 29 chapters, but it fills me with happiness that i actually succeeded in getting this done. I'm thankful to you guys for reading this, because I never would have been able to complete this otherwise. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for commenting, thank you for liking, thank you for reading. It's been such a ride (four whole months!) and while this journey is over, i hope that you'll join me in the next fic :) I hope you enjoyed this series, and I hope that you have an absolutely wonderful day. <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

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johnhughesdidnotdirectmylife · 5 years ago

Conversation

Jared: [to Evan] Well, speaking as a completely objective third-party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter, I am not so sure that you and Zoe really mesh well together, you know?

#dear evan hansen #incorrect deh quotes #kleinsen

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queen-of-bel · 4 years ago

Text

some semi-structured ramblings about kaz and paz, and why their dynamic is probably my favorite relationship of any media i’ve ever consumed

I really really love the dynamic that Paz and Kaz have with each other for so many reasons.

First off, it highlights two very important personality traits about Kaz during the Peace Walker era. It shows off how warm and friendly Kaz can be, but it also demonstrates how overconfident and reckless he is.

He takes what he considers to be “calculated risks”, vastly overestimating his own abilities to offset any negative consequences. He invited a Cipher agent to their own home turf, all for the sake of expanding MSF. It was risky as hell, and Kaz knew that, which is why he kept it a secret from Snake. In his mind, he had a plan to negate the risk of any damage that Cipher could do to them-- befriend Paz and have her switch allegiances.

Kaz knew exactly who she was– a spy only a few years younger than himself. He also knew what her objective was from the beginning. This is something that he admits to Snake at the end of Peace Walker. And yet, he still struck up a deal with Cipher and invited her and Zadornov to Colombia anyway.

It really is heartwarming to see how much effort Kaz put into reaching out to Paz.

After Zadornov was first captured, “Paz” had nowhere else to go, as Zadornov was paying for her room and board. I put “Paz” in quotes, because that was the situation that the character of “Paz Ortega Andrade” was in, not Pacifica Ocean.

Kaz knew this, and the risk of having Paz on mother base, but he was the one who really pushed for Paz to live there regardless. To quote Paz:

“I told the man that with no more money from the KGB, I could no longer afford school. …He bought my story, and when I said I would be willing to work, he took pity on me and let me stay. For some reason Miller really plead my case. That was helpful, but the man is still a fool…”

Now, you can chalk this up to him just going along with the business deal that he struck with Cipher, but his actions moving forward indicate otherwise.

It’s undeniable that Kaz really went out of his way to give Paz a comfortable and peaceful life while at MSF. Her diary tapes highlight all of the sweet interactions that they had:

“What I have got is just a common cold. The medical team said I’d need a few days’ rest, so I’ve been restricted to my room and put on bed rest… Miller told me to take it easy. “I will sing you a lullaby,” he said, then broke out a guitar and sang some incomprehensible song in Japanese. I did not need to understand the lyrics to know he’s an awful singer. Then he said, ‘You know what is good for a cold? Suppositories! Here, I’ll show you…’ He began to take off his pants, so I threw my tissue box at him to make him go away.”

“Every month, Mother Base throws a party for all the soldiers whose birthdays fall in that month… Miller seemed a little protective of me. ‘Hope they’re not being too crude,’ he said. ”

“‘C'mon, we even both have ‘peace’ in our names,’ said Miller. ‘And Zadornov - that old Russkie’s name has something to do with peace, too, right? Hey, as long as we’re having a day of peace, we ought to get an act together - The Three Peace Band!’ I thought he was joking. He then proceeded to share his idea without bothering to check with me, and now I am slated to sing. Apparently, he had heard me on deck one day and since then he’s wanted to form a band”

“With the lyrics finished, I was ready to show Miller. He does not often take things seriously, but all of a sudden he was saying ‘Paz, you have the soul of an enka songwriter.’”

(That last quote is technically from Phantom Paz, but nothing in PW states that Kaz himself was the one who wrote the lyrics for Love Deterrence, only the melody, so I’m going to go ahead and include this MSGV tape)

Of course, you could always make the argument that Kaz was just playing a role, that he was just going along with Cipher's lie and giving Paz special treatment because she's "just a teen", but let's compare his interactions with Paz versus his interactions with Chico, another youth at MSF.

Kaz's interactions with Chico were minimal at best. Not to say that he didn't like Chico, because he absolutely did. But there were never any special interactions between the two of them in the same way that he interacted with Paz.

In fact, Kaz never put that much effort into bonding with anyone else at mother base. Not Amanda, not Strangelove, not Huey, or even Cecile (or any other women at MSF that he would try to seduce). It’s clear that Kaz treated Paz differently than everyone else at MSF. Kaz is a very suave and charismatic person, and he’s used to charming his way into getting what he wants in life, with pretty minimal effort. Paz alludes to this in one of her diary tapes, scoffing at the fact that female MSF soldiers fall for his flirting "so easily".

Now, Kaz never tried to approach Paz romantically, but the success of his whole "let's get this Cipher agent to switch allegiances to MSF" plan rested on his overwhelming charm. Relying on his charisma has not failed him yet, and he had no reason to think that this situation with Paz would be any different. He thought that by reaching out to Paz, she would become loyal to MSF, effectively eliminating any threat that Cipher posed to MSF.

This is where his overconfidence comes in. He vastly underestimated Zero’s power, and how much of a grip Zero had on Paz. Paz absolutely despised Zero, but ultimately, she was terrified of betraying Cipher, calling the repercussions of that action “a fate far worse than death”.

Although, it's not as if Kaz’s efforts were completely wasted. Paz’s commitment to Cipher was wavering as time went on, and as she spent more time with MSF and everyone on mother base. However, it's important to note that Paz wasn't just grateful to the MSF staff as a whole. She was, but she particularly wanted to be close to Kaz.

In her diary tape when she was describing Kaz’s womanizing and his and Snake’s infamous sauna fight, she says something at the end that was really sad to me.

“But somehow I got the sense that for all his womanizing, Miller really only trusted one person, and that was Snake. There was no way I could ever come between the two of them. And at that thought I began to feel as if I had lost.”

We know that Paz had romantic feelings for Snake. She's suspiciously adamant in her third diary entry about her lack of interest in Snake, but her diary entries in the Phantom Pain were more honest about her feelings:

"[Snake] saved me, and I feel indebted to him, but I thought that was all he meant to me. Why does my heart flutter when I think of him?"

So going back to her diary entry in Peace Walker. When she says that she feels "lost", we know that this wasn’t her lamenting about Kaz’s womanizing habits, or what she calls his infatuation with Snake. What upsets her is her observation that Kaz only trusts Snake. She has this hopeless feeling that Kaz would never trust her in the same way.

Paz clearly wanted to be friends with Kaz. Not just friendly surface interactions, but she wanted to get to know Kaz more and bond with him on a deeper level. Unfortunately, it is this exact hopelessness that prevented Paz from expressing these feelings to him.

Of course, Kaz was blind to this inner conflict of hers. When you combine this with not only his underestimation of Zero's power, but his own overconfidence in his charisma, it's a bit of a recipe for disaster.

We see this testament to Kaz’s overconfidence after the ZEKE battle. He's actually shocked that Paz went through with Cipher's plan anyway. He really thought that his efforts to reach out to her worked, as he tells Snake:

“How could Paz… We were going to start a band together…”

At this point, Kaz has already come clean to Snake about knowing Paz's real identity. He no longer has to put up a front of "this is just a teenager". What this says to me is that these are Kaz's genuine feelings. He really was looking forward to starting a band with her, and performing with her on Peace Day.

I really like this moment because it shows that Kaz didn't just think of Paz as a way to expand MSF. He didn't spend all this time with Paz simply because it would benefit him. He felt a genuine desire to befriend and be close with her.

He’s clearly crushed that his efforts to befriend her failed. After the ZEKE battle, he admits that there was only one thing on his mind:

“After Paz tried to steal ZEKE from us, and we watched her get pulled beneath the waves… There was one thing I kept asking myself. Which was the real Paz? And which was the lie?”

What's interesting to me is that he’s not concerned about any damage to MSF that Paz may have caused, despite the fact that she hijacked ZEKE. He’s not even angry that she betrayed MSF, attempting to launch a nuclear strike on the east coast of the USA under MSF's name. He’s just dumbfounded and shell-shocked. Now, this is just my personal speculation, but I think his self-confidence really took a blow in this moment. He's always prided himself on his charisma and business acumen. For Kaz, to think that he so horribly and completely misjudged Paz’s character was a harsh wake-up call for him.

As time goes on, he does become angry, though. It’s mostly (misplaced) anger at Paz, but underneath it all, I think he’s mostly angry with himself.

In GZ, he asks Snake to bring Paz back alive, saying to kill her only if “worse comes to worst”. He uses the excuse that he wants her alive only because he wants to interrogate her and that she knows too much, but there are a couple lines of his during that mission that betrays his feelings:

“Paz is our only link to Cipher. If she’s still alive… …We need her on our side. If not us, who else is gonna rescue that bitch?”

I like that last line a lot because it really shows how conflicted Kaz feels about her. Yes, Kaz wants information on Cipher. Yes, Kaz is angry at Paz. But Kaz also wants Paz to be saved, by somebody, anybody. He just feels that MSF is the only group qualified to do so.

Now, I definitely don’t think that Paz’s well-being was the only motivation for Kaz’s asking Snake to bring her back alive. It’s just that underneath all the anger, Kaz is still clearly emotionally attached to her. In fact, Kaz even says:

“When we get our hands on Paz, intel on Cipher isn’t the only thing I want out of her. Putting aside her mission, her past, that sense of loyalty they drilled into her… I want to know… what she really thought of us.”

Ever since the ZEKE battle, Kaz has clearly been tormented with this question. At this point in time, Kaz is fully aware of what Zero and Cipher are capable of, and why Paz was sent to him. However, he recognizes Paz as more than just a Cipher agent. He wants to look past all of that– the “Paz Ortega Andrade” that Cipher had built up. He has to know what “Pacifica Ocean” truly thought of him and MSF. Whether or not his efforts to reach out to her were successful or not.

What makes this even sadder is that after the attack on mother base, Kaz incorrectly thinks that it was Paz who sold out MSF. He feels utterly betrayed, and his temper reaches a breaking point, lashing out at Paz, calling her a “spying bitch” and even attempting to attack her (which I firmly believe he would have if the medic hadn’t been holding him back).

Thinking about this from Paz’s perspective is also horribly depressing. She suffered so much torture at the hands of Skull Face, but she remained loyal to MSF, asking Skull Face to kill Zero if it meant it would save Snake. When Skull Face told her that he was planning to kill Snake as well, she pleaded with him to change his mind. Obviously, Kaz's plan worked. She did switch allegiances, betraying Zero in order to save Snake and MSF.

And yet, this is something that Kaz didn’t know. He thought that her loyalty ultimately laid with Cipher, which is why he was so furious after the attack on MSF. Paz likely didn’t even know that MSF was attacked, as she came to after Morpho had flown everyone away from base. The last experience of her life was nothing but pure rage and hatred from the person that she wanted to be closest to on mother base.

I don’t know, I just really love these two characters and their relationship a lot. Thinking about the friendship that they could have had, and the misunderstandings and tragedies that prevented either of them from knowing the truth was just heart-wrenching to watch throughout PW to GZ.

#i typed up something similar to this a while ago but it was a lot shorter and messy and i didn't proof-read it AT ALL LMAO #it was really more of a draft than anything else #finally sat down and fleshed it out and added over 1k words whoops and actually proofread so that's exciting #kazuhira miller #paz ortega andrade #two peace #metal gear solid peace walker #mg #amelia rambles

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mavisnm3205 · 4 years ago

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On Wearables (Mavis Ang)

In “Our metrics, ourselves: A hundred years of self-tracking from the weight scale to the wrist wearable device” by Crawford, Lingel and Karppi (2015), they observed a shift from external assessments to self-quantification of physical health. The authors were also quick to comment that information from the weighing scale was uni-directional, in the sense that insights on one’s weight is learnt from the device. On the other hand, they posited that the use of wearables has made the flow of information much more complex. Specifically, they mentioned the involvement of external stakeholders such as companies, institutions and even social networks that also have access to these data. The authors went on to question the reliability and objectivity of these wearables. Aside, the authors also questioned the ethical issues arising from the access to users’ data by “a wide range of intermediaries”.

In terms of consistency, the authors also noted that different devices extract data differently. While Fitbit notes down the times where there is minimal activity, Jawbone UP required users to tap before they sleep and after they wake up. This further adds to the complexities of measurement. What is problematic is also that what the companies do with user data is unclear and how access to the bulk of user data lies with the company instead of the users. In the case of the traditional weighing scale, the authors highlighted that the user could choose whether or not to keep his or her information private or share it with certain people. However, with these technology-enabled wearables, users have no control over the access to their personal data. Implications of user agency can also be portrayed through how the product is being marketed. In the example of Microsoft Band, the tagline was ‘This device can know me better than I know myself, and can help me be a better human’. This demonstrated fading user agency as the standards of what is a better human is defined by the device where the standards and benchmarks have been predetermined. Furthermore, the use of such a device enables users to gain more information on a granular level which also promises more agency and better control over their lives and health. The authors also referred to an example where data from the wearable was used in court against one’s injury claims. In particular, they questioned if this means data is then perceived to be more objective and reliable than a personal account which can be seen as more subjective. The authors also concluded that while wearables seem to offer users a greater sense of agency and control through self-quantification, this may not be the case. The authors argued that wearables and the idea of agency are centred within many other factors and stakeholders. Therefore, the idea of agency, of privacy and of control should definitely be looked into further.

I see this perceived objectivity of these data as highly problematic. In a similar sense, many firms are increasingly using modern hire methods. While they are not wearables, I find the perceived validity of data and dependency on artificial intelligence for scoring equally contentious. Some examples of such platforms are HireVue (https://www.hirevue.com/) as well as Modern Hire (https://modernhire.com/). On Modern Hire’s website, the product is also marketed as how it enables smarter decision making in terms of hiring (just like how Microsoft Band marketed themselves as being able to produce better insights for the user). The use of artificial intelligence to score candidate responses can also “ensure a fairer and more unbiased and complete hiring experience” according to their website. Till now, I am still unsure of what is being used to score my answers. I also question this “objectivity”. In an interview, there seem to be far too much complexities to determine a candidate’s suitability for the role. How can micro-expressions or subtleties in tone be scored?

In terms of wearables, I too use a Fitbit. However, I feel that there are times when the information or analysis provided to me is inconsistent. These inconsistencies arise when my watch is connected to GPS or external applications such as Strava and when it is not connected to them at all. Some other issues of inconsistent reporting can be found on online threads as well: https://community.fitbit.com/t5/Fitbit-com-Dashboard/Sleep-stages-tracking-is-not-consistent-everyday/td-p/1987591 . I am unsure if the concurrent use of third party apps might have caused the difference. While I am a consistent runner (or I would like to think so), the pace revealed in the former and latter can be significantly different at times. This uncertainty also makes me question my state of physical health at times. Is my stamina dropping? In both cases (fitness wearables & modern hiring methods), I wonder who has the largest stake in decision-making. How did these standards come about? How is a fit person or the best candidate defined? Unknowingly, I find myself striving to get enough rest or exercise just to be praised by Fitbit. However, how do I actually know if these standards are right for me/suitable for my state of health? Through this reading, I definitely see the implications in wearables and ideas of agency and privacy concerns. Moving on, I think there is a need for greater accountability and transparency of users’ data and the generation of benchmarks embedded within this wearables and their applications.

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danetobelieve · 5 years ago

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Catchlight || Adam and Winston

TIMING: sometime before the S1 finale LOCATION: Non-descript forest in White Crest PARTIES: @walker-journal & @danetobelieve SUMMARY: Adam and Winston run into some ethereal creatures in the forest. WARNINGS: violence cw, blood cw a little, no TWs

It took alot to call Adam Walker and his cadre hunting buddies back into town from hunting Alghouls, Redcaps, and other scourges out in the hinterlands, but a black ocean and people sprouting with eyeballs all over their bodies definitely qualified. One of the sacred duties of Hunters was to ensure that the supernatural world’s secrecy was maintained. The status quo between humanity and the paranormal was a fragile balance, one Adam often had to enforce using copious amounts of Nepenthe-filled syringes.

But sometimes the balance just absolutely shat itself and imploded. Containment was a lost cause and it just came down to finding some way to make the madness stop.

Adam had inquired with older Hunters and hit up various contacts in the grimier side in White Crest’s paranormal world. Bribes, promises, threats, and tacit agreements had thus far yielded very little to go on. Antedilvuian myths and mummerings about the Troubles come again were interesting, but not exactly helpful in the “how does it fucking stop” deparment.

So it was that Adam had followed this trail of breadcrumbs out in the Outskirts where witnesses reported a beacon of unearthly light that was only visible when your eyes were closed. The shadows of late evening were deepening in the forest as Adam made his way through towards the beacon, M4 carbine slung over his shoulder and pausing at various points to close his eyes and reorient on the pillar of light.

The eyeball was still in Winston’s hand and they were still very far from thrilled about that fact. It was the visions, they had gone from just monsters to everything else and Winston had found themselves drawn to the Outskirts of the town. The plan wasn’t a great one. They’d pulled on a jacket and shoes and grabbed their phone before heading out into the night. They just knew that they had to be there and as they drove they found themselves following a pillar of light that they could see with their third eye but nothing else. Winston parked a little way of and began their trek towards the light once there was no more road to follow. They were making their way there when they spotted a figure with what looked like an assault rifle on his shoulder. Doing their best to act natural, Winston held their hand behind their back so that Adam wouldn’t spot the eye and gave them a weak smile. “Nice night for a … walk … right?”

Adam had been raised with a singular raison d'etre for his life, the protection of humanity. Thus when he crossed path with a human being dangerously close to the epicenter of some paranormal phenomena, the Hunter’s features creased in concern. His chestnut eyes scanned the horizon back from whence they’d both come, taking in the waning crepuscular rays of evening as they dimmed to frail strands peeking through the forest canopy.

It’d be a setback to have to turn back so close to the objective, but Adam couldn’t in good conscience let a civilian draw so close to supernatural danger. If that meant this night was a bust and he drove this person home, so be it. “Afraid that's a no go my dude,” Adam said. “It's pretty dangerous out here at the moment, there’s been an accident up ahead,” said the young man whose kevlar tactical jacket and fatigues were an odd uniform for a ‘civil servant.’ “You should head back into town”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston flashed Adam a quick smile and looked them over. “Listen, you’re clearly not WCPD because I know literally everyone that works there from the janitor to the captain,” working there helped with that, “I don’t see a badge or an identification being displayed so it’s a pretty good chance that you’re not any other sort of agency.” Winston took a deep breath, doing their best to pretend that they were authoritative in this situation and not completely terrified of the assault rifle that could riddle them with bloody holes. “I need to get over to the ‘accident’ up ahead, because there’s important information that I really need. I don’t want to argue or whatever and you’re more then welcome to come, but I’m … I’m going okay?” Winston tried to sound tough, they doubted they did.

Adam stood on the rugged forest path, sizing his interlocutor up for a time. It was clear they were determined to go through with this and while the Hunter’s mutant strength made manhandling them back into town possible, it’d likely be a pointless effort that was more trouble than it was worth. Guess that meant accompanying this person into the anomaly and trying to make sure they made it back out intact.

Definitely wasn’t Adam’s favorite arrangement, but with ancient demonic forces on the rise there wasn’t really the luxury of time.

He nodded assent and offered a hand to the stranger. “Name’s Adam, and no, I’m not anyone with any cred,” he admitted with a chuckle. The young man started the trek towards the invisible luminosity, evidently having accepted that company just going to be a thing. “Who’re you?”

“Winston, Dane.” Winston replied, “Cool to meet you I guess, Adam right?” Winston looked them up and down. Muscular. Armed too. Which was good if this guy was going to join Winston in their little trek which by the looks of things they seemed determined to do. They looked at their path and began down it, slowly and carefully. The strange light that you could only see when you closed your eyes might have been helpful, but it was still completely dark otherwise and Winston did not need to twist their ankle at a time like this. “I’m out here doing research,” Winston explained quickly, “obviously you’ve noticed all of the weird stuff that is going on around town. You know, you’d have to be living under a rock to miss it. But then again some people aren’t the most observant, I guess that because you’re here you’ve come for a similar reason?”

Adam nodded acknowledgement, not seeing purpose for further obfuscation when it was clear Winston knew what was going on. He had no idea what the unseen light truly entailed, but keeping Winston in the dark on details seemed counterproductive if they were going to help each other. “I’m trying to find the connection between the increases in paranormal phenomena and a disease some of the locals have come down with that causes eye-looking tumors on the skin.” The Hunter noticed his non-mutant companion was struggling in the dimming twilight. Adam reached back into his pack and rummaging around before pulling out a rescue flashlight from amongst the more deadly equipment therein. Offering it to Winston, Adam forged ahead over roots and gullies that dipped into dense brush.

“I’ve been tracking leads to see if there is some way to cure them and purify the water in the harbor. Since witnesses report that the light thing in these woods flares up whenever the sun goes dark, I want to check it out and compare notes with friends that are looking into other stuff around town.”

Accepting the flashlight, Winston flashed Adam a grateful smile. “Oh don’t worry,” Winston replied with a laugh, “I am not convinced that they are just eye looking tumors and not just eyes.” Winston had an eye on their hand and although the way that they had received it had been very different, Winston however wasn’t about to admit to having a weird-eye-hand. “Friends that are looking into other stuff around town? Have you started a supernatural-super-friends group?” Winston wanted to join honestly. If there were people trying to fix this so that Winston didn’t have to fly by the seat of their pants all of the time then that would truly be ideal. “I suspect that they’re all tied into the giant squid demon that is currently sat at the bottom of the lake, or the cult that appears to worship it … either way, investigate the strange light that flares up when the sun goes down?” Winston smirked, “I can help with that for sure.”

Adam turned back to give Wintson a long look, crooking a sandy eyebrow as his companion revealed that he knew more then the Hunter ever anticipated. “Born into it technically,” Adam admitted. “But it’s widened over these past few months as more and more people get sucked into the paranormal craziness. I’d prefer more secrecy about the demonic incursion...alot more secrecy,” the Hunter continued with a sigh that suggested perhaps the rather swashbuckling approach Blanche and others in the Scooby Gang took with supernatural secrecy did not sit well with Adam sometimes. “But supernatural awareness is always higher in an area with thin dimensional barriers like this. Doesn’t help that we may be having a repeat of Dead Sunday, in which case we’re totally fucked together regardless. So, y’know YOLO.”

On that cheery note Adam led their party of two to a wooded hill covered in gnarled trees whose branches curled like grasping claws around large quartz boulders. Closing his eyes, Adam reoriented on the Unseen Light’s last vantage point. “Happy to have you along Winston...honestly any help is appreciated when the stakes are this high,” he said with a warm smile before turning back to blindly regard the small valley their vantage point overlooked. “Not to pry, but got any skills I should know about for the investigation? Also, are you comfortable with a weapon? I’ve got some sidearms if you are.” The hunter nodded to the incline that descended into a far densely wooded section. “I’m asking now because once we go down and close in on the anomaly. Weird shit will probably start to happen.”

“It’s my duty to protect you,” the Hunter said without bothering to explain why. “But it’ll be easier if I know what you’re capable of and all that”

“Born into it?” Winston replied with a raised eyebrow. They weren’t sure if Adam was implying what they thought he was, but that sounded like he definitely wasn’t entirely human. Which made Winston wonder what he could be. He didn’t seem like fae and he looked too tanned to be a vampire, but that didn’t really help Winston with anything. There was still so much more to learn. “I think that everyone in town would prefer more secrecy, mostly because those that are ignorant of the existence of the supernatural aren’t exactly the type to take it well if it were forcefully revealed to them.” Winston wasn’t worried about word about the supernatural getting out, everyone was clearly so oblivious to it that even if there was a giant demon swinging a flag saying that the supernatural was real people would still think that it was just cosplay. “Yeah, defo, yolo is really the response I want to something called … Dead sunday?” Winston wasn’t sure that they wanted to know.

Winston stuck their hands in their pocket as they walked. They’d brought a few prototypes that they had been working on. Magical grenades that did different things, the spider bot and a few other very early prototypes. “I don’t want a gun,” Winston replied immediately, “I don’t … no guns. I’ve got …” Winston wasn’t sure that they wanted to really explain everything to Adam, although the longer this went on the more sure that Winston was that Adam was a Hunter. “I’ve got my own stuff that I can use to look out for us and I’ve got … other things that I can do if the worst comes to the worst.”

“My family have been paranormal investigators for a while,” Adam replied, technically telling the truth in a manner of speaking. “Dead Sunday was a colonial shitstorm alot like this,” was Adam’s attempt to summarize a rather complicated event whose aftermath had established both the Silver Bullet and the Hunter presence in White Crest. “Humanity lost...hard.”

Winston’s assessment of his combat capacity as literally “stuff” and “things,” was hardly reassuring from a tactical point of view.

“Alright man, watch your step,” Adam said as he began descending down into the wooded valley of Unseen Light, feet displacing rocks and soil as he eased his way along the trailess side of the incline.

Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully in response to Adam’s reply, Winston wished that they could make the same claim. “Well, I’ll let you take the lead since you’re so much more experienced apparently,” Winston was being sincere. They were still really new to this and they were always happy to follow someone else’s lead if it meant that it kept them alive. Winston followed after them closely, their third eye blinking in the light that only it could see. In fact, right now Winston was wondering if the third eye was entirely accurate, because they were pretty sure that there was a squid like creature who’s tentacles were going to smack into them.

Winston flew backwards with a thud, their back cracking with a painful crunch as their shoulder collided with a root, but when they looked around there was nothing there. “What the hell?”

“Sorry...look, I didn’t mean it like that, you asked…,” Adam began, misinterpreting Winston’s statement as salty sarcasm. However that particular line of miscommunication born of tension was rendered moot as Winston was abruptly knocked back by some unseen force, hitting one of the many thick roots that formed vein-like patterns across the forest floor with an audible crack that made Adam instinctively wince. In the instantaneous reflex born of training, Adam drew a Sig Sauer service pistol from its holster and closed the distance to Winston, scanning for any movement in the darkness while he offered a free-hand to help Winston up.

Yet the forest was absolutely quiet. The Hunter’s enhanced senses couldn’t even hear any ambient animals noises in the brush. The local fauna knew something was wrong.

There came a feeling of frigid heat down Adam’s spine, and eerie hot-cold feeling as his Hunter clairvoyance picked up the approach of a paranormal creature. The sensation grew to painful intensity throughout Adam’s body as the inhuman presence grew nearer and nearer.

But there was still nothing, not even the crack of a twig.

“I can sense something here,” Adam mummurred to his companion, not really caring about revealing his abilities with a threat so close. “It might be glamored, just a sec.” The Hunter retrieved a grey metallic sphere emblazoned with a severed celtic knot from his pack. There came a mechanical click as Adam flicked a trigger on the Dispellate and wound up into a baseball pitch that hurled the grenade towards where the unnatural presence emanated strongest.

A low hiss of released vacuum sealant was followed by a faintly luminous silver smoke that billowed through the air. Tendrils of the Dispellate’s alchemical cocktail of anti-illusion vapors spread amongst the branches like an argent fog. But though Adam’s aim had hit the area of that strange presence dead-on, nothing materialized.

“Well uh..shit,” Adam huffed with a frustrated but rueful chuckle. “You ok? I’m not sure wha...gah motherfu.” The Hunter’s rumination was out in an outburst of pained cursing as deep gashes cut straight through his tactical kevlar from thin air, the impact knocking Adam to his knees as blood blossomed down his side.

Winston was really getting sick and tired of fighting things that they could so clearly tell were well out of their league. It wasn’t that they weren’t capable. But this thing could either materialise and disappear from thin air or it was stopping them from seeing it somehow. Wracking their brain, Winston tried to come up with a solution to their current predicament but with less luck then they would like. It occurred to them that having a third eye should’ve been helpful in this situation but they were more preoccupied by the blood. They remonstrated with themselves for not having learned healing magic more thoroughly before standing to their feet. “I think - what if this thing is like the light and we can only see it with our … other eyes.” Winston pulled the bandage from their hand and closed their eyes, a blurry and distorted vision of the dark clearing came into view and Winston was distressed to see a truly eldritch horror in place. “Close your eyes,” Winston said, summoning magic, this was going to be a fight and they really weren’t sure that they would win.

Doing as he was bidden, Adam closed his eyes.

The Medusozoa creature was luminous and might’ve even been called angelic if the sunray-like spray of its tendrils were not bristling with stingers and barbs. It appeared as if several immense Lion’s Mane jellyfish had merged with one another, drifting on currents of light rather than water. The central mass of the numinous demon was a pulsating and translucent mesoglea within which shone orbs that seemed to be made of stella plasma or solidified light. They churned and writhed within the creature as if they were some kind of organs, an alien anatomy composed of celestial phenomena rather than flesh and blood. Its tendrils swayed and undulated like a thick field of white-golden vines that snaked around trees and stones. Each of tentacles seemed graceful and soft as gossamer, yet the surgical wounds bleeding down Adam’s side proved the thorn-like nematocysts bristling along those tendrils could slice through flesh and kevlar effortlessly.

Adam opened his eyes again experimentally. Just as Winston had surmised, the grove in front of Adam was completely empty and dark, devoid of the immense predator and the surreal sourceless light.

“Good call…” But when Adam glanced to Winston, they seemed to be in the midst of concentration. A real combat situation only gave seconds to think, and it was clear that those tendrils were snaking back to take another lunge. Adam had no clue what Winston was doing, but it didn’t matter because they’d be impaled standing still like that.

In the split second afforded to him, Adam decided he needed to draw the eldritch thing’s attention and either give Winston a chance to retreat or hopefully prove that the “stuff and things” they’d mentioned earlier wasn’t just empty bluster.

With the alacrity of oft-repeated reflex, the Hunter closed his eyes and unshouldered the rifle. Sprinting away from Winston along the grove’s edge, Adam sent cracking bursts of gunfire towards the nearest shining tendrils. The whip-like recoil signaled that, even though it was unclear if any real damage had been done, Adam’d at least gotten the thing’s attention. Trying to fight back the growing pain in his side, Adam continued to engage in a guerrilla battle of firing short barrages before running like hell as lancing tendrils eviscerated the spot where he’d just been seconds ago.

It was a giant jellyfish demon. Fuck. Winston had already been incredibly disappointed with the fact that their main enemy was a giant kraken thing or demon or whatever, calling it Squidward made it a little less terrifying to deal with but that didn’t mean that Winston liked this anymore. It’s luminous body seemed to radiate light when Winston looked at it through the eye in their hand and Winston kept their normal eyes closed.

Adam seemed to be back up and moving and with the amount of blood that he had lost Winston was amazed that they were still going. But they weren’t about to let anything happen to their new friend if they could help it and as the creature shot tentacles in every direction, Winston summoned as much power as they possibly could and focussed on providing some kind of protective barrier. Between themselves and Adam and this thing.

For a second, Winston held their breath, hoping and praying that this wasn’t one spell that they would inevitably mess up.

The tentacles surged forward, invisible light flooding the clearing. Winston could see the luminous barbs and thorns pulsing towards them, getting closer with every second. Then they stopped, as if an invisible force was holding them in place. “Fucking shoot the thing,” Winston grunted as the tentacles drew back and slammed against Winston’s barriers.

“Oh fuck,” Winston grunted with exertion as sweat began to pour down their face and a small trickle of blood pooled at the corner of their left nostril, “this things fucking strong.”

In retrospect, as he looked at the myriad lanced tendrils poised above him many Swords of Damocles, Adam would note that Winston had just saved his life. Adam was superhuman yes, but not immortal. The bloodloss had been progressively slowed his reactions times down while the luminous demon’s unceasing barrage of piercing tendrils had been tearing apart the trees and stones just behind him. But sprinting and firing the rifle only made his wound bleed faster, There’d come a point where the numbness spreading up the young soldier’s side had caught up with him. Spines and shining stingers came down in a rain of blades from all directions.

But just before Adam was torn to shreds by all these living plasma cutters, they all just...stopped.

Adam’s sight darted from the horde of bright death stopped in midair, before opening his brown eyes to look over to Winston, who strained against some unseen burden as a rivulet of blood slid down their face.

Was Winston a Spellcaster? Were they a Medium with crazy Jean Grey psychic powers? Adam really had no idea, and didn’t have time to spare the matter any thought.

Adam used the precious seconds to retrieve one of the grenades he hadn’t had time to arm while running. He didn’t carry ordinances like these into town as the risk of civilian collateral was too high. But coming out here Adam hadn’t known what to expect, and like many Hunters, Adam reacted to unknown variables by scaling up the firepower. Unlike the harmless Dispellates he also carried, this particular explosive much resembled the standard issue M67 fragmentation grenade, though the United States Military would've looked askance at the bizarre materials and esoterica that comprised its payload.

The Hunter wound up into a pitcher's throw that sent the grenade sailing towards the demon’s central bulbous mass. Cold iron shrapnel blossomed from an explosion silver fire, the gleaming metal glittering starkly against the creature’s bioluminescence. Adam moved with the alacrity of training and pretanatural reflexes, sending spheres of jagged death sailing towards the creature in a steady rhythm until he hadn’t any more left. For a few seconds the far side of the grove was a confusion of shredded gelatinous flesh, smoke, and a crisscrossing hail of sagittal cold iron.

The following silence lasted until the tangled, hemorrhaging masses of luminous gelatin rose from where they’d lain lifeless on the ground like dandelion seeds taking to the air, each new being bulging as glimmering new celestial sphere-organs underwent cellular mitosis in their center.

“Hey...uh, Winston, think we need to get the fuck outta Dodge.”

Fuck. This thing was strong. Winston could feel the blood slowly trickling further and further down their face. It didn’t take long for it to reach the edge of their chin and drip slowly onto the leaves below their feet. The exertion that it required for Winston to hold this thing in place was staggering and they knew they wouldn’t be able to do it for long.

Even now, as they struggled against its immense strength, Winston could feel their own failing.

They were way more then out gunned here. It felt like they had brought a knife to a gun fight and Winston knew that at such a violent disadvantage there was very little they could do but eventually lose this fight.

Fortunately Adam had brought grenades to the gun fight, and as the explosions rocked the ethereal creature that they’d encountered, Winston couldn’t help but recoil as they let their magic fade away and staggered slightly.

Reaching up and wiping the blood from their chin, Winston blinked a few times somewhat obliviously. They could see Adam saying words, but it was taking them a little too long to translate those words from sounds to semantic meaning.

“I agree!” they stammered as their feet finally remembered what they were meant to do and began backing away from this, they would have to find their answers somewhere else, “Let’s run. Running seems like a really fucking good idea.”

Adam wasn’t capable of much magic beyond the alchemical processes for monster venom antidotes and warding sigils to hold off your average Ghostbusters bullshit, a combination of sketchy science and religious ritual that kind of went hand in hand with the Hunter gig. However he did know that sorcery on any scale always came with a price.

Now, Adam wasn’t sure what the cosmic exchange rate for “Saving a dumbass from a giant invisible demon” currently was. But looking at the state Winston was in right now, Adam guessed he owed them way more than some beers and a “thanks bruh.”

He offered Winston a shoulder to throw their arm over to aid in walking if they cared to. Either way, Adam tried to forge ahead up the wooded hill they came down, trying to leave the valley of unseen light and its rejuvenating bloom of newborn Medusozoa demons behind. Unfortunately he had to keep his eyes open to actually see the precarious trail and its maze of stones and roots, during which time he couldn’t see what the invisible entities were up to. Between mounting injuries and having to close his eyes occasionally to keep track of the enemy, progress up the hilltop going at the agonizing pace of a dream, where you want to run, but are stuck in a slippery slow-motion.

Part of surviving as a Hunter is an instinct for when the monsters have been a bit too quiet and heinous shenanigans were incoming. Sure enough, the distinct lack of being impaled during the last few minutes made Adam suspicious that something was up. Paranoia was rewarded with catching sight of one of the newborn shining creatures beginning to pulsate unsettlingly as its biolomunience built to a feverish incandescence. The Hunter’s mutant senses felt the energy discharge begin before he saw it.

“Hit the deck!”

Adam threw himself, and hopefully Winston too, flat against the dirt of the rabbit trail. A beam of pure concentrated photons lanced overhead, boring through nearby boulders like a knife through butter and scissoring through some trees ahead. The wood burst into eerie multicolored flames that burned bright but gave off no heat.

As a test, Adam opened his eyes and had his suspicions confirmed. The prismatic flames were completely invisible to the naked eye. Branches and roots were blackening and charring without any visible source of conflagration. “Shit shit, c’mon let's go this way, can’t let the fire cut us off,” Adam said to Winston, huffed with exertion as he tried to find an alternate route through otherworldly flames and demonic photon beams.

Hands still covered in their own blood from wiping it off of their face, Winston allowed Adam to lead them away from the demon that was fucking with them. They were going to start making signs for themselves. Things that said things like “Don’t go into that dark hallway on your own,” “don’t walk down that dark alleyway without your friends,” and “don’t fuck with giant floating jellyfish demons you have no chance of beating in a fair fight.”

They were barely away from the original scene of battle when Winston spotted the beam incoming. Fortunately Adam had spotted it even before they had. “Fuck, ow.” Winston grunted as they hit the dirt and rolled away from the laser beam.

“Thanks for that,” Winston said as they spat out blood and gravel, scrambling to their feet they followed Adam through the forest.

Reaching into their bag, Winston pulled out a lightbulb that they had heavily edited and enchanted. Winding it back, they hurled it at the Medusozoa Demon and watched the light bulb sail through the air before smashing against the jellyfishes’ cap.

A second later there was an electrical discharge as the micro-emp grenade that they had been testing exploded with a bright flash of electrical energy.

“I don’t know if that helped,” Winston replied honestly as they turned on their heel and raced after Adam, blood still pouring -- though more slowly -- down their face. “But we should definitely run faster and not stay to find out.”

Adam didn’t need to be twice and tried to hussle it over the hill. There were tense moments as beams streaked after them, sending that strange multicolored flames cascading through the trees in brief conflagrations the naked eye couldn’t perceive. However whatever crazy discharge ordinance Winston had let loose seemed to have wounded or at the very least disoriented their closest pursuer, and their very painful trek amongst jagged stones, thick brush, and eldritch energies finally crested over the hill.

Eventually Adam signalled for a stop after they’d put some distance between themselves and the valley where that strange light that only flared when the sun's eyes closed had first been sighted. “Just a sec Winston...wanna check something.”

Trying to push the pain in his side away, the Hunter closed his eyes and leaned a nearby tree. Adam let his Hunter sense drift, clearing his mind of distracting thoughts as best he could. After a minute a dim impression surfaced. Adam waited, but those presences in his Hunter senses didn’t draw any more intense or draw near the hill they’d just cleared. Eventually the clairvoyant feeling of the demons faded as they drifted beyond his range.

Whether the valley was their ‘territory’ or those creatures maybe couldn’t even exist outside that unseen light, Adam couldn’t really say. But those were questions for later.

The Hunter opened his eyes. “They aren’t following us….hey uh, thanks for having my back there Winston. You saved my ass,” was Adam’s awkward foray into gratitude and he continued along the last part of the trail towards their cars. “Owe you big time.”

#wickedswriting #para #p: adam #catchlight #// this was honestly such a time #please watch tapir strap me to their back and carry us through this chatzy

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