#me and my soul plant I’ve kept alive for 10 years
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Angel in disguise 🌸
#the lighting in my bathroom had me feeling like a GODDESS#that glow tho.. inner light shining bright#always feeling myself#angel energy#me me me#selfie#me and my soul plant I’ve kept alive for 10 years
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
If you only knew what a good person I strive to be. How I do my best to help & be of service to people. How I share my heart with people daily. How I dedicate my life to lifting people up and making their struggle easier. And you saw me & judged me just like the rest of them. Looking for my imperfections, preying on my insesecurites cause I’m living in my authenticity. Cause I’m loving myself & I’m being myself. But you couldn’t see the real me beyond all the stuff on the surface. Only when we were in person. Alone, in our own world just me & you. That’s when we really got to sit in eachother’s light. And we had so much in common. I just wish we could of done more in our time spent. But even then, nothing felt as it should. I had to beg & throw temper tantrums to get the love & affection I wanted moment to moment. You kept pushing me away. Hurting me, going silent on me. Being mean to me & saying hurtful things to reject me. It hurt me to much cause all I honestly yearned for from the very beginning was for you to just be my partner. To be my lover & my friend. Nothing complicated or tragic. Just someone who sees me, that I share so much in common with. We both loved singing & dancing. we loved music 🎶 and we loved the water 🌊. I was hoping our love for eachother would help eachother grow. I had always longed to feel the feeling that you gave me. I’ve always had that feeling- a deep yearning & longing to love. But I had never felt it reciprocated. I had never felt that love given back to me. But you. I remember when we locked eyes. It was like you saw me. And we couldn’t stop being in eachother’s presence. I remember sitting next to you & just feeling your energy next to me. It was so warm & comforting. It felt so familiar. I will never forget what I told myself when I met you: “I found him, this is gonna be my husband.” I expected everything to just fall into place. But you had a whole life already. A whole spouse & everything. I was too late. Destiny had already prescribed that our timelines were off. You came to hurt my heart 💔 & betray me. So I could learn what love is truly about and discover who I truly was. But you, my love. It was you that I longed to be with far before I knew you. So the sadness & grief I’ve had to deal with from our seperation has been so hard on my heart & soul. When I felt so deeply that you and I were just meant to me- & that feeling was a deception. But an essential part of our karmic story- cause the fantasy is what alive had to surrender & let go of. Even though I still go back to memories of things that never happened with us. Like being on a mountain top taking pictures together, or playing in the water at the beach. Surrounding all of our moments together was the painful truth that I longed to be with you everyday, all the time. And you never felt the same way. That I saw you as my partner and you never saw me in that way. But looking at our charts - you can see that it’s me beloved. I’m your venus & you are my sun ☀️. My virgo ♍️ man, who keeps the house together, loves animals & plants, is a handy man & loves to sing 🎶. We fel into that domestic energy so naturally. I just needed you to be patient with me & help- instead of hurting me and tearing me down. Breaking my heart & betraying my trust. If it had been just us from the very beginning, then we’d have been 10 years or longer together. I could only had imagined meeting you in my prime. We could of been stuck to each other like glue. But your car from me now, I’ve released you over and over it o gottafillt let you go. there’s still parts of you, mentors & emotions, I’m holding onto. And a longing, I miss you so much, cause you really brought a light & joy to my life that felt so good. The love you gave me, even if it was so little, was enough to make me glow. I miss that feeling. You brought me so much joy ☀️. Your love brought me so much warmth & made me feel so seen cause your venus is right on my sun! But God has someone else for me. Someone whose gonna compliment the person I’ve become. Someone to love. 💕
If I could experience you
again,
from the very beginning
I would
before I asked for you
to meet me on the bridge
& I found myself alone
as it had always been
no matter what
my heart will always whisper your name
because it’s never felt more alive
or more in love
then the time it shared with you
❤️
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! Can I request an hc about a shady MC who's not phase by anything in Devildom with the brothers (and Diavolo?? he deserves love!!!)? Like, when Luci's like "i CaN KiLL yOu hUmAN", MC's reaction was like "Oh... congratulations then." i need more shady mc who may or may not be planning to ruin your life😂😂 Thanks and take care!!❤❤
The Brothers + Diavolo with an MC that is not phased by DevilDom
__________________________________
Pls I need more shady MC, they would not take any shit from the brothers. Put any Gen Z-er with these guys and you’ve got yourself a suicidal and reckless human exchange student.
They wouldn’t know what to do with one of those ahaksbakanhaka you’re right, Diavolo deserves all the love >:(((((((
You better take care too >:( thanks for sending me this big brain request. I’ve been preoccupied with other projects so I took a while to get to this ask. Hope you’re doing OK💙
____________________________________
Lucifer:
-He thought having a human exchange student was going to be bad enough as it is but this…..this was so much worse than he could have ever imagined
-The moment you arrived, he already knew you were going to be a problem child and a persistent one at that
-Literally the first thing you asked him was : “Why do you look like an off-brand Levi Ackerman?”
-And he was left there, astounded, confused and offended because he had no idea who you were talking about (cuz at that point you hadn’t met the third eldest) and the tone you had was, frankly, pissing him off
-You kept wondering off on your own????? Without looking like you gave a shit even though you almost walked into a butcher’s shop that specialises in human meat???? Tf MC?
-Also really irritated that you couldn’t be intimidated and that DevilDom was like a playground to you, for some reason? Like, MC get out of the fiery pits of eternally tormented souls- this is Hell, not the McDonald’s ball pit ffs
-Things did not improve for him lmao, by the end of the first week he had already ripped out a good chunk of his hair because of you
-“MC, you should know by now provoking demons like this for no good reason is only going to make life harder for you. Keep this up and you’ll get killed in no time because of your behaviour.”
-“Great, can we have a hip-hip and a hurray?”
-In the span of one day, he’s had to come to your rescue six times (approximately) because you’re too nonchalant about your surroundings around literal creatures of hell
-He doesn’t have enough coffee or will to live for this bs
-“Lucifer, I found this dead plant and brought it here because it reminded me of you.”
-“…..sigh. Why? Why does it remind you of me?”
-“Because it’s cold and unresponsive.”
-He made the consecutive decision to ignore you
-(low-key kept the plant tho)
-Honestly, you get on his nerves a lot and he has definitely contemplated killing you in the past but at the end of the day he really can’t bring himself to do it
-We both know he tried a few times lmfao
-“I will tear you limb from limb, human-“
-“Can I finish my tea first.”
-“You…wait, what?”
-“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting this tea get cold. Try to kill time before I’m done and I’ll smash this cup against your head.”
-If you try hard enough, you might even elicit a laugh out of him, especially if your shadiness is directed at any of his brother which results in him patting your head affectionately
-Nowadays he’s just concerned because you seemed to have made an alliance of sorts with Belphagour and Satan and that’s not a good sign
-For his sake, if not yours, at least try to survive the year without getting chomped on by a random demon please
-He’s too stubborn to let you die just because you’re unbothered by everything so cut him some slack and help out damn it
Mammon:
-“Oi Lucifer, how come I’m stuck babysittin’ this stupid human?”
-“And how come I’m stuck with this asshole for a tour guide, with his fake ass designer shoes and no brand sunglasses. That’s a lot of smack talk from someone with crow shit stains covering the back of his jacket. Also, did you stick your hair in a bucket of mayonnaise?”
-……..
-He was so offended lol
-Normally, humans like you cower in fear whenever demons are as much as mentioned because of the whole “I can eat you whole” thing
-And here you are; insulting the Avatar of Greed and one of the princes of Hell himself just because you didn’t like his attitude
-Don’t worry tho, he warms up to you in less than a fucking month simply because you still come to his rescue whenever his brothers start insulting him and wow, look at that, his heart is now combusting on the floor
-“Y’all have no right to criticise Mammon when he has the most self control out of all of you.”
-“Since when does Mammon have any self control? He can’t keep himself from nicking anything that looks shiny.”
-“Motherfucker, I don’t see him trying to choke me to death, respectfully pls shut the fuck up. I don’t want to say I have favourites but if I do, it’s definitely him.”
-While Mammon’s in the background, with hearts instead of pupils in his eyes like ❤️👄❤️
-He doesn’t even mind running around after you anymore (will still complain about it though because your ass is in constant danger and he’s had enough)
-Honestly, you keep starting shit with random demons, some of which are quite powerful mind you, and you don’t back down even when he’s there to step in
-Would low key love to watch you fight one of your classmates at RAD and organise a ticket selling booth for the event but Lucifer will hang him a new one if he does
-So for now, he sticks to baring his teeth at the aggravator in question and you’re there, giving the same demon the middle finger
-The way you sometimes match his energy gets him so hyped up lmao
-“Mammon, did you steal Levi’s money again?”
-“T’s none of her business human. Now go away, shoo!”
-“Bitch, don’t ‘shoo’ me, I ain’t a bird. Now tell me, did you?”
-“…..Why do you ask?”
-“Because a new flavour of instant noodles just got announced, called ‘Super Hell-Sauce Flavour’ and I thought you might be more interested in that than wasting the money on gambling.”
-“….ok but only if you come with me to buy some.”
-This…this is true love right here
Levi:
-Oh no, now there’s two of you
-Why do I feel like his energy would match MC’s almost immediately? Maybe it’s because he spends too much time in his room on the internet like the rest of us do
-“What do you want, you stupid normie?”
-“300…..”
-“….300 what?”
-“300 mangas collected, thousands of episodes of anime watched, over 60 character figurines, plushies, body pillows, merchandise and several posters only to be called a fucking normie by a demon weeb that’s only known me for 10 minutes.”
-Boom, instant friendship
-He becomes attached to you almost immediately and now that he knows how unphased you are by DevilDom, he is seriously worried
-Hell, you’re making him consider going outside his room just to make sure you’re alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere because you decided to get on someone’s nerves that particular day
-Even during the quiz thing, when he almost kills you, you’re just sitting on the floor and awkwardly watching him as he throws a sissy fit
-Levi feels sort of conflicted with you because one one hand you’re good company and he loves having you around, you’re his Henry after all
-But on the other hand, you put yourself in so much danger it makes him paranoid so often to the point where he wants to keep you locked in his room and wrapped in bubble wrap
-Nearly had a heart attack when you almost walked right into a pit of lava like MC???? This isn’t one of his video games???? You’re not gonna respawn if you die????
-Besides all that, he gets a bit jealous of you confidence and your ability to just do whatever without fearing death or consequence
-“MC, how do you do it?”
-“Do what?”
-“How do you go about your life without a care in the world?”
-“I guess I’ll tell you my secret Levi. I’m not like other humans that’s why, I’m just so unique I do things differently.”
-“You sound like a pick me-“
-As long as you’re OK and not injured because of your carelessness, he’s indifferent about your behaviour and will even applaud you for your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing
-“lmao the human exchange student just dumped Solomon’s cooking in the trash while looking him dead in the eye 💀💀💀”
Satan:
-Your attitude towards DevilDom and demons in general kept him entertained, if nothing else
-You rarely seemed to consider how much of a threat that place really is and usually you were just running around, completely ignoring Lucifer’s rules and doing your own thing
-Which, you know, he’s all about
-I can’t say there were no incidents between the two of you
-With his short temper and your tendency to say things without caring about the consequences, there were definitely moments when he might’ve snapped on you
-“MC for goodness sake, what happened to my room?”
-“What do you mean?”
-“It’s an absolute mess! I just told you to bring me my spells and curses book, not mow through everything!”
-“It’s not my fault this place is built like a fucking labyrinth. You should be grateful I went to get it for you at all, I almost tripped and died several times on my way back. Also, you should get a new ladder for your shelves. It did the broken.”
-“MC….”
-“Yes?”
-“You are so lucky I love you.”
-Other than the fact his anger takes over him when things like these happen, he not so subtly encourages you to keep going because seeing Lucifer scowl at your antics gets him wheezing his lungs out
-I like to think Satan would be very impressed, even in the beginning, at the amount of nonchalance you can radiate at times
-I mean, you sure as hell don’t see it often and he loves how unpredictable you are more often than not
-If anything, he should probably thank you-idk how, but his patience has increased significantly every since you got here and he appreciates having some more control of his emotions
-“I’m gonna go put oil in Lucifer’s shoes.”
-“Do you have a death wish?”
-“Satan, I am old enough to make my own decisions and I concluded that this action is necessary.”
-“Necessary for what?”
-“Raising everyone’s morale! All of you seemed to feel down lately so I thought this would be fun for everybody!”
-“Except Lucifer, right?”
-“Except Lucifer. He grounded me from my D.D.D like I’m a fucking teenager who needs to be supervised-pssshht, I’m the most responsible one here.”
-“Yes clearly.”
-“Goodbye dear Satan, I may die today. But it’s for the greater good! (Dramatic exit with sound effects)”
-“WAIT MC!”
-“(pops head back in) yes?”
-“May I offer you my assistance?”
-You’re basically taking turns pranking his brothers and it’s hilarious
-Satan is not too worried about your well being simply because he knows his siblings and him are always going to be nearby to save you if you pull something stupid again
-Even so, he checks up on you throughout the day; just to make sure
-“Where were you?”
-“Running from a bunch of demons. Who wanted to go munchy crunchy on me, I assume.”
-“……”
-“Either that or people here are a lot friendlier than originally expected.”
-You can be such a handful and it really tests him, especially when he’s angry enough to begin with
-But despite your amazing talent at either getting completely lost around Hell, purposely walking into a prohibited place just because you felt like it or riling up others with how blunt you are, he still cares about you deeply
-You may be a pain the ass, but you’re his pain in the ass <3
Asmo:
-He should’ve known something was up with this particular human when you stood there, completely calm and collected, while Beel salivated at the thought of eating you on your first day
-Asmo just brushed it off for a while but it kept happening???
-The first time Lucifer ever told you off, you really went and said “Or what? Are you going to eat me? If so, you can go ahead and start with-“
-He came to your rescue and covered your mouth before you got to finish and before Lucifer unleashed his wrath on to everyone in that house
-“OOPSIE! I think MC has been spending too much time with me. Sorry Lucifer, we gotta run now! We have a party to attend, don’t we MC darling?”
-“You mean the one hosted by the guy that tried to kill me because I shoved into him on the hallway at school and then proceeded to tell him to go fuck himself right back into whatever hell hole he was born in before you came and charmed our way out of it?”
-“Yes.”
-“Ah OK. “
-You’re tiring for sure but you’re not exactly unlikeable
-You have a certain charm hanging about you that Asmo loves
-“I almost died like…30 minutes ago.”
-“WAIT WHAT?? WHY?? WHAT HAPPENED-MC ARE YOU OK???”
-“Yeah, I almost drank some poison today because someone told me it was water. It smelt off though so I didn’t.”
-“….”
-“Anyway, I got you this bracelet on my way home.”
-He really does wish you would take things a bit more seriously
-This is your life on the line, you know? What would he do if you died?
-“MC, you’re not immortal, you can die so much more easily than I can, you know that right???”
-“I don’t care.”
-“Well I do! And you should too….”
-A lot of people don’t see past his vanity tbh, because he can be such a caring person towards the people he loves
-The amount of videos he has of you appearing to be completely calm while pure chaos is descending in the background is pretty impressive
-Every time he uses his charm on you to try and get you to commit his sin, it just doesn’t work???? For some reason???? And even if it’s just with simple, innocent affection for now, he is determined to tempt you into it
-“MC~gimme a hug!”
-“But that’s social interaction and I don’t support it- do you have a charger for my D.D.D by any chance?
-Or at least die trying to ig
-Asmo loves having you around but you’re giving him wrinkles and that’s not okay >:(
Beel:
-The moment he realised how carefree you actually were, he sort of started checking up with you quite frequently throughout the day
-It’s his way of protecting you but if he could, he would follow you around all the time
-Becomes your body guard because you may not care enough about your safety but he certainly does so get ready to be carried everywhere
-You will not get hurt nor will anyone mess with you if he has a say in it and let me tell you, he does
-Thing is, his brothers mostly know him for being slightly dense in some aspects of day to day life
-He’s not perceptive of things that don’t involve food or his loved ones
-And because you most definitely are a loved one of his, he does notice how careless you are really often
-And it scares, rather worries, him because DevilDom is an incredibly dangerous place-even with all the precautions they had taken when you came
-“MC get down, you could fall.”
-“But Beel, look-I’m finally taller than everyone else! Taller than you even! Hey, should I do a backflip?”
-He has no idea why you thought jumping from 60 meter high cliff into a small river of squashed demon blood was a good idea but he wasn’t going to risk anything just because you felt like showing off your diving skills
-Proceeds to carry you away, completely unfazed
-In this case, I feel like Beel is not someone who gets bothered by the horrible things happening around there either
-As long as he has food and his family is safe and happy then he’s also happy, as mentioned above
-But he knows he’s alright with DevilDom because he’s been living here for centuries now
-A bit curious as to why you’re so unbothered
-And even more curious as to why you weren’t terrified of him transforming in his demon form after he lost control when he found out you ate his pudding
-Or more like Mammon did and pushed the blame on you
-“YOU. ATE. MY. PUDDING!”
-“Beel I love you but if you did not just see Mammon shoving the damn container in my mouth two seconds prior to this, then you might need glasses.”
-He apologised to you later for it but even so, you didn’t seem to mind like at all and he didn’t really understand why
-Unless you end up explaining why exactly you feel so indifferent about your life being in potential danger, he won’t really pry
-But now he has even more reason to follow you around like a lost puppy
-Since it’s clear you don’t really care about protecting yourself
-So now it’s his job to do it
-MC protection squad? Mostly Beel and Mammon
-ahhh he cute
Belphie:
-Oh
-You piss him off so much
-He’s trying to have his moment, you know?
-Finally getting that glimmer of satisfaction after killing a human as a way to avenge his sister’s death
-Trying his hardest to make it as miserable as possible because he has so much rage in him, he needs you to suffer
-“Harder Daddy-“
-“Oh fuck off.”
-Nah but for real, what the fuck MC
-Why does he even bother, he feels like he should be sleeping instead of dealing with your bullshit
-Even afterwards, when your future self shows up and he tries to kill you again, you look more thoughtful than irritated???
-Lucifer and Beel are literally holding him back from doing another Chocky on you and you’re standing there, looking at him with your eyebrows raised
-“Hey Belphie, I have a quick question. I know you’re trying to kill me and everything but do you like the colour blue?”
-“HUH??!?!”
-“It’s a simple yes or no question Belphie. Do. You. Like. Blue?”
-“WHAT DOES IT MATTER???!!!”
-“BELPHAGOUR, AVATAR OF SLOTH-YES OR NO, JUST FUCKING ANSWER!”
-“YES! FUCK YOU!”
-“Ah ok thanks. I like blue too :)”
-????????????
-Pls he felt like sticking his foot down your throat
-As of late, he’s kind of glad he didn’t manage to scare you away that day and that he didn’t traumatise you or something
-At the time, he was mad because he didn’t understand why you weren’t scared but now he just wants to make it up to you
-“You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry MC, I won’t blame you if you decide to stay away from me now.”
-“Stfu dipshit, what’s gotten you so depressed? Did you have another fight with Beel? I told you not to eat the last slice of cake.”
-“Rude ass, I was trying to apologise for my past mistakes-let me repent will you?”
-“Said no demon ever. Now let’s go hang out you emo bitch.”
-Y’all vibe together on a spiritual level once that shit gets sorted out
-But he’s kinda scared you might pull out a knife on him ngl
-Obviously, you’re still annoying as fuck with that indifferent attitude of yours but he can live with it
-He appreciates the fact that you’re not scared of him, even after what he’s done
Diavolo:
-Ah yes, the future King of DevilDom himself
-He’s very enthusiastic about the idea of you having fun this year…..and to keep you alive….
-He, of course, expected a range of reactions from you when he first summoned you here
-None of which were “Ok but could you not have given me a heads up? Before the whole teleportation thing? I face-planted your onto marvellously polished the floor and now I think I lost even more brain cells than before.”
-He felt so bad gagajajahahwgehhsb
-He apologised for bringing you out here without any warning like that and then proceeded to introduce you to everyone
-Diavolo is actually kind of relieved to see you’re handling everything pretty well
-He thought that maybe DevilDom was too much for a human to deal with
-Meeting Barbatos also went incredibly smooth
-“Barbatos? The one that cleans the floors right? Big fan of your work, I could eat off the floor of the main hall.”
-He’s so glad to see you getting along with everyone and not getting intimidated by the brothers
-It gets him excited thinking about how the exchange program is gonna work and all three realms will be united
-But he’s not stupid so don’t think he’ll allow you to stumble around, getting up to all sorts of mischief
-He always has someone watching you because he would hate to see you die, despite being pretty fond of your carefree attitude
-“MC, please be careful. Most demons here aren’t all that nice.”
-“Aye aye Captain.”
-He fears that many demons would take your indifference as a challenge and try to assert dominance or something by kidnapping you
-As far as creatures of hell go, they love installing fear in people
-So he always keeps an extra eye open for you
-And he’ll be there to help you if something goes wrong
-But other than that, he’s pretty chill as well and he finds you so hilarious, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone as eccentric and dramatic as Mammon and Asmo
-Idk what else to add here, Diavolo is very accepting and as long as you don’t get hurt, he’s glad you can get used to your new surroundings so easily
———————————-
Al~
#obey me#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me leviathan#obey me imagines#obey me belphegor#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me satan#obey me diavolo#🦚 lucifer supremacy#💳 mammon supremacy#⭐️ requests#☂️ demon brothers#🕯 general#📚 satan supremacy#🐡 levi supremacy#🪞asmo supremacy#💫 belphie supremacy#🍔 beel supremacy#👑 diavolo supremacy
576 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pilot
Eek! The first episode. Full disclosure- the first season is my absolute favorite and always will be. I just love it. It always takes me back. The opening song “There She Goes” transports me to the earliest naught and makes me incredibly nostalgic for my childhood. Ugggggghhhhhh I love it.
The way Luke looks at Lorelai... 🥰💗💕 He’s feigning annoyance but you know he’s harboring this longtime, intense crush. 🔥🔥🔥 Whew! How he can be so smitten with her while she wears that hat is confounding but nonetheless... I wish a man would look at me like that.
Luke’s baseball cap has an American flag on it which is weird.
The Independence Inn! I love the Independence Inn so much more than the Dragonfly. Sorry, not sorry. Drella was such a waste of a character. I love Alex Borstein but I am so glad that Melissa McCarthy got the role of Sookie and I honestly think Drella was completely unnecessary.
I really love the way Michel and Lorelai play off one another in this scene. Their chemistry is so good, I wish they would have kept writing Michel’s character this way instead of the direction they ultimately went in. They really did the snooty, obnoxious Frenchman thing to death but he could have been so much more.
This might be an unpopular opinion but I actually like Rory’s oversized sweater look (or as Lorelai put it, her muumuu).
LOL I cannot picture Lane listening to Eminem. Crazy Carrie is the Stars Hollow High English teacher.
I know this has been said by many people before but it’s ridiculous that Sookie is supposed to be this amazing, experienced chef but she is such a disaster in the kitchen. The way she chops those peppers? Where are her knife skills?? She has the audacity to correct her bilingual staff on their English grammar but has absolutely no idea how to safely operate a kitchen when she is supposedly this incredible cook? What a joke. She starts a fire on the range and the other chef just puts a lid over it but doesn’t turn off the burner? I know, I know. It’s supposed to be humorous, but still...
One of Michel’s best, most relatable and most quotable scenes. “People are particularly stupid today. I can’t talk to any more of them.” I literally feel this in my soul every day at work.
There are so many plants in Lorelai’s house! She doesn’t seem like the type that can keep houseplants alive. How are Lorelai and Sookie so put together and responsible? They’re both single women in their early thirties and they both own their own homes. How is that possible? Was it just because this was pre-2008 housing crisis? I am so jealous of Lorelai’s house.
Emily looks 10 years older in the pilot than she does in every subsequent episode. How did she age in reverse? Oh, Richard 💔 He’s kind of a garbage person throughout much of the series but he has those few redeeming moments which somehow more than make up for all the shitty things he does. I can't help but love him. And miss him. I know I’m getting old AF because I just caught myself thinking that he looks handsome in this episode 😱 He’s just so tall and masculine. His cheeky, smug grin when he says, “So, you need money.” 😍 Okay, I’m officially creeping myself out.
I love first season Rory + Dean. They’re so cute. Teenagers do not talk to each other like that but it’s completely endearing even if it’s not 100% believable. Dean is so open and vulnerable with Rory right off the bat. No 16-year-old boy talks like that to the girl he has a crush on. Not any of the ones I’ve ever encountered, anyway.
Lorelai and Rory are both eating salads at Luke’s. Weird! Oh, okay Luke brought them burgers. That’s more like it. But I feel like they definitely would’ve forgone the salads altogether in later episodes. The money Lorelai puts on the table to pay for the food falls on the floor and neither of them bother to pick it up. I always find it weird that Rory/Lorelai and Lane don’t acknowledge each other when they pass one another on the street. Not a nod, not a wave, not a half-smirk, nothing.
So when Lorelai realizes that Rory doesn’t want to go to Chilton because of a boy, Lorelai is understandably emotional. However, she literally says, “You are me,” and then proceeds to try and control Rory- doing exactly what Emily would have done in that situation. She doesn’t try and understand things from Rory’s perspective outside of how the situation could go badly. I honestly would have probably acted the same way, but Lorelai prides herself on being this “cool mom” who does things differently from her own controlling, suffocating mother. However, when she’s faced with Rory having a difference of opinion and acting like a moody teenager for once in her life, Lorelai’s first reaction is to “play the mom card” and fault Rory for falling for a boy. She basically tells Rory that she has no say in the matter and will be going to Chilton regardless of how she feels rather than talking things through. Again, I know she is just reacting to a situation in which she feels like the rug was pulled out from under her, but it’s funny to me that she reacts in the same way I would expect Emily to. And even though she acknowledges how similar she and Rory are, Lorelai reacts in a way that she would have totally resented if she were in Rory’s place.
I always thought it was weirdly out of character for Richard to fall asleep at the dinner table. He wasn’t that old- he would’ve only been 57 at that point.
Emily and Lorelai’s fight is so frustrating because I can understand where both were coming from. The two of them would have really benefitted from therapy. If Tony Soprano was doing it, why couldn’t the Gilmores?
I think Luke looks less attractive when he’s clean shaven and dressed up. It’s too jarring. He’s one of the very few men that look better to me with a baseball cap on.
Oh, the song they play at the end of the episode while it zooms out on Lorelai and Rory in Luke’s window from outside! Absolute perfection! Perfect opening song, perfect closing song. Great music choices all around in this episode.
Such a good pilot! I really, truly love it. I’ve watched it a million times and I could watch it a million more. 10/10.
#gilmore#gilmore girls#lorelai gilmore#rory gilmore#emily gilmore#sookie st james#lane kim#paris gellar#richard gilmore#stars hollow#netflix#a year in the life#ayitl#gilmore girls ayitl#hep alien#luke danes#jess mariano#dean forester#logan huntzberger#team dean#team logan#team jess
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life Is Proud: Life Of Agony’s Mina Caputo: “I don’t like being called transgender or transsexual… I’m a beautiful human being”
Pioneering Life Of Agony singer Mina Caputo opens up about letting go of the past, spirituality, and the Pride movement during the third instalment of Kerrang!’s Life Is Proud campaign.
“You’re setting off landmines inside of me!” says Mina Caputo. We’re 35 minutes into a filmed interview which we are conducting as part of Kerrang!’s Life Is Proud campaign in celebration of Pride Month.
Our conversation thus far has embraced everything from the work of psychologist Carl Jung and his study of the dark side of the mind through to the disinformation of modern media, and on to the liberating impact of artists such as Robert Plant and Freddie Mercury.
The “landmines”, though, consist of a few questions about Mina’s remarkable career and her own journey to find herself. They do, indeed, trigger explosions – delivered with her customary frankness and forays into deeply emotional territory.
Mina’s story starts in Brooklyn where she was born in December 1973. At the age of one, she lost her mother to an overdose. Her father was also an addict – “I grew up pulling dope needles out of my dad’s arm,” she told Kerrang! last year – and when he OD’d she had to identify his body. Both moments, she says, armed her to face the real world, providing her with “spiritual juice” as she also began to seek solace in music.
Raised by her Italian-American grandparents in a brutally traditional atmosphere, Mina experienced a sense of gender dysphoria from a young age – something she carried with her when she formed alternative metal band, Life Of Agony, in her teens. Her sense of alienation increased as the band’s popularity grew and she continued to feel at odds with the bristling machismo, muscle-flexing and sheer violence within the East Coast scene.
“Life Of Agony were a very different band from the jump,” she says. “But that time taught me to protect my neck. It taught me how to be afraid of my own unique authenticity. The first five or 10 years of my career, we were abused. There were lots of comments, like I’m a gay junkie, because I looked differently and I sang differently. We were left out of scenes and we were left off bills. But I knew why: because were bad-ass and we rose to the top really, really fast. People didn’t like that. Other bands didn’t like that.”
For Mina, her quest to find herself had become a key issue which she had to address. In a conservative scene, her experimentation with her image and sense of sexual exploration came at a price.
“I started painting my fingernails and toenails with Jonathan [Davis] on a tour with Ozzy Osbourne and Korn [in 1996], and that was seen as rebellious!” she smiles. “And I started going onstage wearing a big women’s fur coat and getting so much shit for just being different – and for being someone unlike the scene had ever really seen. I was a trendsetter, a physical trendsetter. And being in that scene, it was horrifying.”
Things came to a head following the release of Soul Searching Sun, Life Of Agony’s third album, in 1997, when Mina finally decided her only option was to leave the band. Against all odds, LOA would reform in 2003 and continue to release a string of acclaimed albums, their story documented in the no-holds barred documentary The Sound Of Scars.
“I felt afraid, I felt like dying,” reflects Mina on the struggles she endured as she quit the band. “I felt like my cellular structure was continuously dying and I wasn’t alive or living, I wasn’t sharing my true self. I was definitely afraid. It took me to quit the band because I wasn’t being true to myself. I had to get away from my band, the label, everyone I worked with.”
A hugely varied solo career spanning over 10 albums and endless collaborations followed, but Mina still feels that history weighs heavily on her.
“No-one wants to let go of my past story. Every lame rock journalist starts of the article in the same way because there’s no more creative writing anymore. Everyone’s cutting and pasting. ‘Mina Caputo – once Keith Caputo’,” she snorts.
“Everyone has to keep reintroducing the fact that I’m a freak, born anatomically a boy. No shit! I’m a different creature. I’m not trying to be a boy, or trying to fit into your dickhead masculine world! Nor am I trying to fit into the genetic female world. I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck about fitting into your marginalised soulless, fear-based spiritually bankrupt world. I’ve gone my own world, my own internal world. I’ve got my music. I’ve got small selection of friends. I’ve got my money. I’ve got my divine protection. I’ve got my studies. I’m not a stupid motherfucker! I study quantum physics! I study Hopi American prophecies! I study philosophy. I’m well-equipped for this fucking world!”
Mina’s bravery in the face of adversity remains inspirational. Experiencing the distrust of ‘otherness’ during her childhood, she has battled against prejudice most of her adult life. And, yet, she admits that her decision to come out as transgender in 2011 was far from easy.
“It was very, very scary,” she reflects. “I didn’t tell a lot of people until my body started to change and I couldn’t hide it anymore. For the first year of hormone therapy, I kept it hidden.”
She is also honest enough to admit that, even a decade on, she still suffers from moments of self-doubt.
“It’s not like, ‘I’ve arrived! I’m fucking whole!’” Mina says, triggering another explosion. “I battle with things every day. Some days I think about going back to living as a guy. The pressure of the world, of politics, of the garbage surrounding me – if I let it get to me, I can get sick. My immunity will collapse if I let the world fuck with my power and who I am. And it’s a good thing that I’ve been doing yoga for 30 years. I’ve been meditating for just as long. Thank the ancient gods and that I’ve downloaded the wisdom codes to give me the strength to carry on.”
Mina’s self-preservation and spirituality is evident in most of her interviews, and yet her quest has also contributed to her ongoing sense of frustration with the world she sees around her.
“I think I am a gentle and considerate human being and I believe in true equality. I want everyone to be in love with their lives and the planet itself,” she nods. “That’s what life is about, but there are people and organisations that try and get in the way of that so I get frustrated and angry about that.
“Society, the political paradigm, all of it – it’s one big farce, one big façade! It’s very inorganic and anti-life. I don’t care if you’re Democratic or Republican, nobody is leading with love. Nobody!” she continues. “Even in Britain. Your policies around trans people – and it’s the same in America – they’re trying so very fucking hard to continuously disempower the human species!”
The idea of codification is something that Mina frowns upon, so how does she view the Pride movement as a whole?
“Pride is a very ego-driven ideology and I work really hard to cut the strings of my ego,” she explains. “Pride means different things to different people. The LGBTQ community wants love from the outside world, but I think the LGBTQ community needs to start loving on one another. We’re never going to get respect from the rest of the world if you don’t do that. You have gay guys constantly coming down on trans girls, you’ve got trans girls coming down on trans girls, you’ve got a new fucking word every day and you can’t say this or you can’t say that.
“If Pride gives people a feeling of wholeness, then it’s a good thing. I know it makes a lot of people happy. But you’ve got to create your own circle in a sense rather than be defined by someone else’s narrative.”
Describing herself as “a lone wolf”, Mina concludes our conversation by pointing out her issues with the labels ascribed to individuals by society.
“I don’t like being called transgender, or transsexual, or trans-this or trans-that. I’m a beautiful human being. I’m a gender-creative child. I’m very different. I don’t subscribe to these one-dimensional ideas. My mind is too vast, my mind is like the Dao, you know? I wear my heart on my sleeve all the time and that’s what being genuine and authentic is all about,” she offers as one of her parting shots. “But if you’re asking me how I am? I’m full of love, full of harmony and thankfulness. What else do you want?”
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Inside a Submissives Soul
Dear Diary -
I am often asking myself whether I write too little about this journey. There is much more going on than what I have wrote previously. Some things, like the exchange of emails between myself and Sir M I tend to re-read in my quiet moments. They're very personal, educational, refreshing and amusing all at the same time, it is very much a blessing to have such open communication. I am a fairly simple being in terms of what I need to feel wanted by someone. The complexity comes with the rest in time, I find I am having to do alot of self talk to make sense of my emotions and keep them realistic but it can be incredibly hard. Sometimes I feel I just need to hear the right thing to help my insecurities settle but it has to be meant.
Some things are better kept to myself and strictly between myself and Sir M, however some things I do overthink and to an extent fear, as I do not want it to impact negatively on our relationship. One day I will find out what is too much and too little I am sure...
Met with Sir M again, I was completely wired, so excited to see him, I didn't shut up rambling. His poor ears must have felt like hot pokers were being pushed through them. I like that we can talk about anything and everything, it's natural and comforting to have such a connection. No awkwardness, even if it is silent, it isn't awkward.
Saying hello with affection brings such warmth to our meetings. Feeling his kisses against mine, feeling him against me. I ache for him as it is, then when he is actually infront of me the ache deepens further. He is irresistible to me.
I feel incredibly self conscious yet again, my skin has flared up everywhere and I feel embarrassed by it. I don't know what he says or what he does but it vanishes quickly and I feel less concerned as we get closer.
With his guided tone he tells me we may not always have sessions filled with play, sometimes just being with one another, to talk, to relax, to communicate freely is equally important. This is very reassuring, we are only human after all, we all have off days.
A very short time passes and I lose my top and bottoms. He took his time with the bottoms, enjoying himself, they sat at my knees, a very slight movement from me and they dropped to the floor. He assumed I had done it on purpose, playfully I said I hadn't, I couldn't stop grinning which gave it all away. He turns me to face away from him, he only has to show slight guidance with his hands for me to follow through. My hands up and away, peaches pushed out towards him, he remains seated, just underwear to cover my intimate areas, he begins with the spanking and I can't help but smile.
When he stands, I feel his hands all over, teasing, caressing, damn he feels good. I can never help but to push against him, taunting him to play further. He resists very well. I am now to lean over, arms infront of me, he removes the clasps on my bra, off it comes, panties stay on, his fingers feel me through the fabric. He disappears for a moment, I know he's there, he returns, pulling my panties to one side with a cool feeling on his fingers. This always makes my body jolt, something surges through me head to toe, my natural reaction is to flinch. He finds this amusing, I'll get him back one day I'm sure.
He probes between my peaches, the feeling is fantastic. I feel him planting kisses on my body here and there, subtle touches to make me tingle even more. He leans in with his almost whispered words, I am a bad girl... I have 2 fingers between my peaches... All I can do is smile and push back alittle.
I always seem to lose my voice, when he works his magic, I am gone, somewhere I want to stay for eternity. It doesn't take much my mental state to get this way when I am with him, he doesn't need to touch my sensitive areas for me to feel this way either, it just happens.
Remaining in position, which I don't think was for long, I move a foot and realise from my knees down, they are numb. I tell him this, I know pins and needles followed by cramp isn't far behind. He has me sit and begins massaging my feet and lower legs, he stopped the cramp from occurring, such a gent. Very much like no other.
On regaining feeling, he asks me to kneel, I am not on the ground so I am almost level with him. The flogger comes out against my front, it doesn't hurt, he is fairly gentle, a couple of strikes grab my attention at times but I enjoy it nontheless, somewhat relaxed by it.
He stops and comes to pull my panties down, just under my thighs, continuing to rub and probe around. I am melting from the inside out. He applies a firm grip around my throat, my insides churn and I feel myself blurring the more he plays. Asking, more than demanding me to cum. Just the way he says it, gawd I wish I could, it's there, I'm ready but she will not release. It is infuriating beyond anything I've ever known. I've waited all week for this (years to be more specific), and it just sits there, hovering around in the background. It's so close. I feel desperate. I want to. I need to.
He doesn't give up easily, spends quite alot of time on me, this alone is bewildering, I have never received such attention to this extent. I am told to lean over, I do, he continues. His fingers are magical, I tense, I relax, I ache inside, I breathe heavier, I moan and groan. I am eager to release but to no avail, it doesn't happen. I am cursing myself, cursing her. I deliberately saved myself and this is how she repays me.
He slows his pace and stops briefly to tell me his is getting the big guns out... the wand... As per his request, I turn around, lose the panties then onto my back. Open to him, he wastes no time and sticks the wand to the most sensitive parts of me. The sheer intensity I feel, it is almost impossible for me to contain any form of control of my senses, my hands are automatically drawn in to attempt and adjust. Of course, I am not to touch, I clench my fists, he then places my hands on my stomach, holding them there for a moment. As my body alternates between tensing and relaxing, it takes time even though I felt it would be immediate, I finally have a release. My body arched, curved, the grip of my fists tightened. Such a bugger, he doesn't stop, I writhe, I squirm, I breathe, I twitch and shake but he keeps going, the unbearable bliss. One rolls into another, then another.
When he comes to a stop. I know he's there. I felt so high, I couldn't think, I couldn't move, I just was. My thought processes stopped, I knew I was alive, I was just being. He is leaning over me, monitoring me. He observes me a lot, a kick for him but also to look after me. My eyes meet his, they're beautiful, they say so much, I only wish I could read them and his thoughts. I remember touching his face, my hands on him. It brings comfort and let's me know he is real, that it isn't all just a vivid dream. I always want my hands on him, the contact brings me closer emotionally. I don't ever recall being that high, I felt drunk, grinning ear to ear, total mush. It was quite a while, we must have lost quite some time before I came about and became aware of my surroundings.
When I am somewhere back on planet earth, I am somewhat able to maintain conversation, although there must have been occasions where I made no sense because he said as much. We talk about anything and everything, so natural, so open. How we made the conversation get to the point it did, I tell him where I place the wand when I am alone, it doesn't even touch my sensitives, it sits just above and I can roll out a few releases as a result. He is interested and grabs the wand again to trial and sample. Starting where I would start, he then explores further finding my most intimate part which is covered by my natural being. My word, I nearly hit the roof. His words 'this one is mine', he damn well sure got it. Wow... back to the world of mush and no senses about myself. I hover there again for some time.
Reality finds its way back to me and our time is coming to a close once more. This is the part I wish didn't come, I wish it didn't have to end. On the other hand, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I was concerned that he hadn't had any physical intimacy of his own, he reminds and reassures me he does not need it and gets much satisfaction from seeing my satisfaction. I understand, I don't need a release either necessarily to have a good time. It doesn't mean I don't want to at least give him some physical indulgence in some way.
It took me a lifetime to get myself together, I just wanted to be with him, touching, holding. Part of me didn't want to although I knew I had to. I enjoyed teasing him alittle, making it known despite the releases, I still craved him massively. Instead of him "grrr'ing", I was very much "grrr'ing". Sir M wanted to concentrate on me releasing, he would like me to get relaxed to the point I will on command, to a point I can completely control them. His self restraint is admirable, honourable, above all, it shows he cares. I really cannot wait for the day I finally have no doors, no walls, no barriers. My subconscious plays a massive part in holding me back and although he doesn't see it as an issue, it still frustrates me. I hope he is right that it will come, just to give myself time. I've had over a decade of time, I genuinely expected myself to implode, then explode and not stop. I want to seize and soak up every moment with him I possibly can. I never want this to stop. I don't want anyone else, just him. To belong to one another, like no other, is all I want, it's all I need.
As always Sir M is right in his explanations and expectations. It is all very new, performance anxiety is a real thing and we don't need to be so hard on ourselves about it. Yes we are playing but we are also building on the 10 year foundation we have been lucky to have, these things take time. Small steps, we can take plenty of them.
I felt incredibly cheeky with my attitude, so wired being excited to see him again and he knows it. I'm sure I will pay for it later, I did apologise for this and my neediness, he says its not really something to apologise for.
Sir M, ever the gentleman. Unique, 'rare and impossible'...
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Absolution
Summary:
noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment
The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.
XVIII
February 10, 2278.
The plan is set. DeLoria went ahead and travelled to Underworld yesterday to tell Dr. Barrows that we are planning to transfer Percy. It will happen tomorrow, at night, when the courtyard is clear, and the tin cans are sleeping. Our only problem would be the night guards.
Logistics won’t be a problem. Dr. Li said that the machines that I thought was keeping Percy alive were just there to monitor her, and that she can live without them. Barrows will know what to do. He revived Reilly, the wounded, comatose merc leader Percy and I helped a few months back, after all. Maybe he can wake Percy up too? Dammit.
I’m not sure how we will pull this off, but screw it. Anything’s better than scribes probing and poking my partner with their needles.
I was servicing my shotgun this afternoon when Dr. Li stepped in the room. She looks at me with scrutiny, carrying a bag. I assume she’s preparing to leave. She’s not wearing her lab coat. It would be impractical for travel, anyway.
“Charon, was it? May I have a word with you, before I leave Persephone in your hands?”
I nod, not looking up from my task.
“What are you to her?”
Well, that made me pause.
“I’m her partner. That’s all you need to know.”
The doctor drags a chair and sits in front of me. I look up, and she looks pensive, her frown similar to Percy’s when she was waiting for the results of her lab test.
“I told you before, I’m not sure about the nature of the relationship the two of you have, and it’s probably not in my best interest to pry. But I’ll be frank. I’m seeing signs of codependency.”
My eyes don’t leave her, demanding her to explain in silence.
“Your world revolves around her. Almost to a point of obsessiveness. That isn’t healthy. Persephone doesn’t seem the type to enable that… but I can be wrong.”
Something twists in my gut.
There’s a little truth to what she’s saying, about how my world revolves around Percy ever since she waltzed in the Ninth Circle in September, and that makes it sting more than it should.
But she knows fucking nothing about what Percy and I went through to get where we are now.
“I don’t care. I don’t have to explain anything to you. Go away.”
Dr. Li looks at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “Fine. I just want to let you know that I’ve been put in a similar situation before. With her father, James.”
I guess first impressions can be deceiving. What else had James done?
“If Persephone is anything like her father, get out while you can,” Dr. Li tells me, voice barely a whisper, but she’s firm.
This time, I stand up and glare at her. I towered over her, but she kept seated to her chair, defiant.
“I didn’t know James much. But if there’s someone I certainly know, it’s Percy. She’s not her father. Give her some damn credit.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“This is the only thing I’ll say to you, doctor: she wanted me to have a life of my own.”
Dr. Li gave me a faint smile, but the relief in her eyes is telling.
“I suppose I can give the two of you the benefit of the doubt.”
She stands up and straightens her clothes, puts back the chair where it was, and heads to the door.
“One last thing,” she says, looking over her shoulder.
“If Persephone wakes up, tell her not to look for me.”
I didn’t respond. I just nodded.
Li’s words lingered on my mind throughout the afternoon. “If?” No. When. Percy’s waking up.
...it’s too late. My mind wanders to a possibility of a future without her.
I stand up, parting the plastic curtains around her bed, and take a long, hard look at her. The muscles of her face relaxed, expression blank in her sleep. Almost lifeless.
Usually, her brows would be knitted in concentration, like when she’s figuring out how to use fission batteries to power the motorcycle she’s tinkering with, or when she’s cleaning up a wound I have from shielding her against gunshots.
One look at her eyes, and I can tell when she’s afraid, angry, or just happy to see me. The more I think about it, the more I realize how I missed the cues. My eyes weren’t the only ones lingering on her more than necessary. She does that to me too. Whether what she felt for me is the same as I feel for her, the desire and the fondness, it did not matter. The trust and devotion in them are enough.
When she’s not using her voice to express her anger or frustration, her mouth’s usually smiling, grinning, or open in her laughter. Kind words came out of it for the dog, the kids in Big Town and Lamplight, Gob, Nova, and even Moira from Megaton, and me. Above all, it’s sweet, as I found out before she ran in the chamber.
I try to imagine a world without her, and the knife twists deeper into my gut.
I remember the question she asked me, on New Years’ Eve.
December 31, 2277.
The last day of the year, and I’m back to where I was when it started, but with better company.
The stench of alcohol and jet-addled sweat no longer lingered in the Ninth Circle. I don’t think I can even call it that now that the sign is gone. Ahzrukhal’s shelf of watered-down piss was cleaned out in favor of a common pantry. A section was being separated by sheets, converted to a common house with a number of beds and mattresses. The tables and chairs still remained, where ghouls can sit down and rest, if they desire.
DeLoria was sitting in the corner, looking utterly fucking lost. The only other human in the room was that relic hunter Percy accompanied while looking for a piece of parchment, and she wanted nothing to do with him. At least the dog kept him company.
The greaser sighed in relief when he saw me and Percy.
“About time,” he greets, patting Percy in the back and giving me an acknowledging nod. “Watching you mope and cry because he wouldn’t wake up has gotten boring.”
“Shut the fuck up, Butch,” Percy replies in jest, punching the boy’s arm.
For some reason, it’s comforting to see that these two are at it again.
Percy drops to a knee to give Dogmeat a long hug and kisses on his forehead. Then, the dog comes over to me too, and I carry him, allowing the mutt to lick my face with affection.
“At least give me credit for showing up to rescue your asses, Grognak.”
“Grognak? You came up with that all by yourself?”
“Yeah? You sure as hell looked like him when you smeared them mercs against the floor and carried Charon all the way here,” DeLoria teases, making clubbing motions with his arms.
“If my dog didn’t run away and left you panting after him, you wouldn’t have found us. I should be thanking him,” Percy teases back.
Butch pouts and I couldn’t find the strength to hold back a snicker. Percy ruffles his hair and laughs, earning her a hard glare.
“Hey, watch the hair!”
“Thank you, Butch,” Percy finally relents, offering Butch a smile. Then, she turns at me with an expectant look.
“...thank you,” was all I could say. He’s not so bad. Maybe.
“And thank you,” Percy coos at Dogmeat, voice pitched a few octaves up, ruffling his ears as I held him.
“Isn’t that right, boy? Who’s the smartest, bravest, and toughest doggy in the whole wasteland? You are!”
Dogmeat gives my friend some licks and happy barks. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Holy shit, I think I’m gonna barf,” DeLoria remarks, pretending to dry heave.
“Fuck off, Butch. I’m trying to spoil my baby here.”
They fought for the entire afternoon.
We spent the rest of the night in Underworld, under doctor’s orders not to engage in anything strenuous. Butch got to know the local ghouls, and though he still looks half-terrified at the sight of my people, he’s polite enough not to call them zombies. Probably because Percy punched him when he called me one, or he’s outnumbered. Might be both.
Carol was thrilled to see us again, giving Percy a hug that she reciprocates just as hard. Percy lapped up all her attention. Carol’s probably the closest thing she has to a mother now.
We were having dinner when Percy brought it up.
“I can’t believe this is my first time counting down to the New Year in the wasteland,” she comments, chewing on… whatever the hell we were eating.
“Huh. You’re right,” Butch adds, wiping the grease off his mouth.
“We should celebrate!” Percy quips, enthusiastic. “Maybe we could take us to Tulip’s place and get new stuff for the new year. We never really had that much stuff in the vault, did we Butch?”
“Yeah, they were mostly shitty hand-me-downs. But, uh, I’m still kinda broke Perce. It was supposed to be my first day on the job days ago but all that shit happened…”
Percy blinks, and wipes her lips with a handkerchief. “C’mon boys, let’s go shopping. My treat.”
“For real?” Butch asks, looking a little giddy.
“Are you complaining?”
“No.”
“Let’s go then.”
We went to Tulip in Underworld Outfitters. She was glad to see Percy as usual. While they caught up with each other, DeLoria got a new pair of jeans and a shirt.
Percy found a tattered red scarf. My friend ran her fingers against the fabric, lingering where the holes are.
“I’ll learn how to sew, and I’ll patch you up in no time,” she says to no one in particular. The greaser rolls his eyes.
“Still talking to things, I see,” he teases her.
“No I’m not. I don’t talk to inanimate objects.”
I snort, and join DeLoria. “Yes you do, Percy.”
She crosses her arms and pouts. “Yeah? Name one time.”
“You were talking to that robot you were fixing for the Big Town kids,” I say, and Butch gives me a conspirational look.
“Ha! And you used to talk to them plants in the hydrowhatever garden in the vault too.”
“Hydroponics. Plants tend to grow better when you give them extra attention, you know,” Percy retorts, cheeks going red.
“You used to talk to Mr. Bubbles,” Butch cuts in, and Percy gives him a playful jab.
“You were talking to your Mr. Handy while it was shut down for repairs,” I chime in, and Percy lets out a mock gasp.
“Not you too, Charon! I can’t believe it, you two are teaming up on me,” she laughs, running a hand through her hair. Butch was laughing, and Tulip was looking pretty amused as well.
“You vaulties bicker like a married couple,” Tulip comments.
DeLoria smirks, wagging his eyebrow, while Percy rolls her eyes and huffs. Yeah, they’d make a nice married smoothskin couple. A beautiful smoothskin girl with a smoothskin pretty boy.
Just how things are supposed to be.
“More like a caveman arguing with an astronaut,” Percy scoffs.
“For the record, you’re the caveman, Grognak.”
Putting a hand on her hip, Percy flips DeLoria the bird and looks around for other items. Then, she turns to me, a black shirt in her hand.
“Try it on, big guy. You could use some more clothes,” she says, and I nod.
I take off my shirt and put the new one on. It covers me, but the sleeves are too tight for my liking. I turned to Percy and caught her eyes flick down for a brief moment before looking me in the eye.
“So, is it comfortable?”
“It’s fine. The sleeves are too tight.”
“I’ll just cut them off. We can use the scraps for cleaning,” she replies, eyes averting mine. She clears her throat and goes back to Tulip’s counter. Butch was leaning in the corner, nose wrinkled, avoiding looking at either of us.
Yeah, pretty boy’s jealousy is showing again. It will never stop amusing me.
We left after Percy paid for the items. She looks at her PipBoy display and smiles.
“It’s almost midnight,” she says, and she turns to me. “Hey Charon, know a place where we can get away from all the noise?”
I think about it. “I know a way to the rooftop.”
“Nice. C’mon, let’s get some air.”
“The air’s gonna kill us, Perce,” Butch remarks, and Percy rolls her eyes at him.
“Says the smoker,” she replies.
Percy and Butch fucking bickered again as I led them outside, to an exterior fire escape. We climbed up the stairs until we reached the top in a single file; I’m in front, Percy in the middle, and DeLoria at the rear. I had to carry Dogmeat. He was terrified. Shaking.
We sit on the edge of the roof, Percy in the middle, and the dog on my lap. Percy produces some bottles of Nuka, whiskey, and scotch from her bag, along with some packets of food. Butch ate a snack cake in one bite and chases it down with whiskey. Percy unscrews the scotch, drinks straight from the bottle, and shudders. She passes the bottle to me and I take a long swig of the stuff.
“New Year's in the vault was boring,” Butch comments, looking in the distance. There were Super Mutants roaming about. “It's always streamers and trumpets. I wanted to see what the fireworks looked like.”
“Fireworks will set the vault on fire,” Percy replies as she grabs her Gauss rifles and loads it with a microfusion cell. “I don’t think anyone produces them now, either.”
“But,” she says as she lies on her belly and angles her rifle downwards. “We have ammo.”
A mutant fell in the distance. The big, dumb, green bastards never knew where the shot came from.
“How did you celebrate New Year's way back, Charon?” Percy asks.
Huh.
“We used to put up trees.”
“Well, we can’t do that unless we get a vertibird to Oasis and chop one down,” she chuckles.
People also kissed as the clock struck twelve, but I didn’t tell her that.
“Let’s just make our own traditions then,” Percy continues. “Like shooting up these guys.”
Aside from Percy’s gunshots, we’re silent, drinking and eating as we waited the minutes away.
“So, what are you guys planning to do this year?”
Butch puffs out his chest. “I’m gonna lead a gang. The Tunnel Snakes are gonna slither again!”
Percy chuckles softly.
“That’s a start. When this is all over, I’ll start my own garden. What about you, Charon?”
What kind of question is that?
“I go where you go.”
Percy sits and looks at me.
“Don’t you have plans of your own?”
#lone wanderer#female lone wanderer#charon#fallout charon#charon fallout#fallout 3 charon#charon fallout 3#butch deloria#madison li#oc: percy zhou#fanfic: absolution#series: through river acheron#fallout#fallout 3#fallout fanfic#writers on tumblr
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
"I've finally found you. "
Kuroo Tetsurou X reader
Soulmate and Reincarnation au! : one gets flashbacks of their past lives when they reach the age of 10
Warning: ancient Chinese history kind of?? angst??? Fluff??? I have no clue
Sorry for the grammar and spelling mistakes! It kinda sucks so-
Edit: Please don't read this- I did this at 1am- im not proud 😭😭
♡♡♡♡
At the age of 9, I've remembered my classmates being so excited to see what kinds of flashbacks they might get. I was no exception. I really wanted to know how my soulmate looks like. Always dreaming about being married to a perfect man and having a perfect life, I was so happy to be reaching the age of 10 soon. Multiple thoughts ran through my small 9 year old brain.
Is his hot? Is he smart? Is he cute? Does he looks cute? Will he love me back? What if something goes wrong?
I sighed as I laid my head on the classroom table. I closed my eyes and continued to day dream about the perfect man that is going to be in my life soon.
♡♡♡♡
Please stop.
Stop.
Please.
I beg of you.
STOP
I woke up from my nightmare. Drenched in sweat, I sat up on my bed and tried to calm my racing heart. I have just reached 10 years old a few hours ago. I've heard from my parents and friends that flashbacks from the past can come in the form of dreams. That was not the sweat dreams that I've expected.
My whole body dirty from being dragged from the ground. My long white gown being drenched with blood, sweat, tears and mud. My legs and hands being bloody from the chains. My torso bloody from being whipped with a thin long stick. My tears ran down my face continuously. I tried to break through the metal chains as I cried for help and forgiveness.
"I didn't do anything wrong! I was framed! Please let me out! I didn't cheat on the emperor! Please... Stop!" I cried out.
My vision blurred from the tears. The metal chains digging into my ankles and wrists. My body being constantly whipped by the stick. Exhaustion ran through my veins. Please stop. I'm tired. It hurts. I beg of you. Stop!
I shut my eyes to stop remembering the flashback but it just continues to run through my eyes. I thought these dreams and flashbacks are suppose to be sweet andthey should give me a hint of who my soul mate will be. Why do I get such horrible and torturous dreams? Why me?
I remembered the pain on my wrists and ankles vividly. It hurts. I didn't care if I was sweaty or not. I curled up on my bed, my forehead resting on knees as I cried myself to sleep. Why me?
♡♡♡♡
I don't want to have a soulmate. I hate it. I hate the feeling. Every day, I had flashbacks and dreams of being tortured. I have enough. My whole body hurts being being tortured even though it's just a flashback.
I was 14 years old. I've always envied my classmates and friends for having such wholesome and cute flashbacks. I've always heard them gushing about their soulmates and their past lives. As they were talking about it, their eyes lit up with happiness and excitement. Some of my schoolmates were lucky as they figured out how their soul mates looked like by the flashbacks. Lucky.
Everytime someone talked about their soulmate, my anger rose. I hated my soulmate. I had enough. Why can't I have nice flashbacks. Why must my flashbacks be about torture and crying? My fist clenched with anger and frustration. I hate this. I was jealous.
I had frequent panic attacks in public due to the stupid flashbacks. I'm embarrassed. Sometimes I feel that my friends and classmates pity me for being like... like that. I don't often speak about my soulmate as Ive literally never seen him in my flashbacks. I hate it. I don't want to have a soulmate anymore.
How do I stop having flashbacks about my soulmate? Do I have to,,, end myself?
♡♡♡♡
I broke out into a cold sweat from a dream again. My heart beat furiously. This is the first time in my 16 years being alive that Ive gotten a sweet and wholesome dream. I'm still in a state of shock. I was expecting to be tortured again in my dreams, as always. However, I dreamt about being in a garden with my soulmate.
Giggling, I smacked his arm playfully. "you're so mean, my king!" I laughed at him.
We were in a flower garden. The place have been decorated with colourful flowered and plants of many species. Butterflies fluttering around the plants and fishes are swimming in the huge pond. Next to the pond was a huge hut. These wooden chairs and tables are crafted out neatly with patterned of flowers and dragons. Having servants around the perimeter to guard us from potential danger, we were sitting together on the huge chair made of the king.
"..., you're so full of shit. Stop teasing me! If you continue teasing me, I'm actually gonna start crying." I smacked his arm once more as he continued to shame me for my height. "Im have an average height, okay. I'm not short! You're just abnormally long!"
"How dare you just insulted the King? I'll put you to the dungeon if you continue to insult me like that," he huffed. "I'm the nicest person in the kingdom."
I rolled my eyes at his comment. "yea but you love me too much to put me into the dungeon. I didn't insult you by the way, I was just speaking the FACTS!" I scoffed.
I took the chance to look at his face, but his face was blurred out. All I notice was his black messy hair that made him look like he just woke up. I reached up to touch his bed hair. I gasped on the inside. "Your hair is so soft. I love it." I smiled and ran my hand through his surprisingly soft hair.
I felt his hands sneak around my waist and he took this chance to pull me even closer to him, if it was possible. "you pull them everytime I ate you out-" He proudly said.
I blushed furiously and tried to cover his mouth to shut him up. "stop!!? Stop!! This is embarrassing! Shhh!!"
He chuckled and I felt my hands being licked. "AHH! STOP! Did you just lick me?? Ew!!!" I wiped my hand on his clothes.
Wait, I didn't notice our clothing. He was wearing some Chinese looking ancient outfit. Ah yes, a 龙袍 (lóng páo: a dragon gown) which had yellow dragon and auspicious patterns embroideries on it. The silk materi made it easier for us to wear in the summer and winter. It kept us cool in the summer and warm the the winter. That so cool. I looked down at myself. I wore loose clothes with long large sleeves. Under the long skirt was a pair of high-heeled clogs with some embroidery on them. There was a scarf wrapped around my arm, which symbolized that I was a noble woman. I ran my hand my my clothed knees. So smooth. For no apparent reason, I felt a sense of nostalgia and my eyes started to water. I felt,,, loved.
My thoughts were interrupted when I felt my hands being grabbed by his rough large hands. I looked up at him with such a loving look on my face. "I love you," I blurted out. I blushed and wondered why did I suddenly say that.
He slowly let go of my hand and gently used that free hand to push my head down on his shoulder. I snuggled closer to him and smelled a faint scent of his cologne. "I love you too, my love." he gave a gentle kiss to my forehead. I really love you, soulmate.
I really enjoyed the dream. I felt like I was 10 again. The daydreams of being loved and touched by my soulmate really made my heart burst with love and happiness. So this is how my friends felt when they have flashbacks. I smiled to myself. I think I don't hate you anymore, soulmate.
I laid back down on my bed. I couldn't sleep. And then I realised that I missed his touch. Just like the chain, I felt his touch on my skin vividly. I craved his love. I want to find him quick. I want to be with him forever. I love him.
I felt my blood rushing towards my face. I covered my face with my hands and rolled around my bed. I was a love sick fool.
♡♡♡♡
I was transferred to Nekoma high school in my second year. I was devastated to move away from my friends in karasuno. I missed the volleyball club. I was their manager for a year and I really enjoyed my time there. They were my true friends. They comforted me when I was having very bad flashbacks and panic attacks. I am going to miss them.
I'm 17 years old and I have a one sided love hate relationship with my soulmate. I continued to have such bad flashbacks most of the time but sometimes I have such wonderful and heart warming flashbacks. I hate him. But I love him too much.
I was looking down at my phone, scrolling through the memes that the volleyball gAnG sent to me on the group chat. I laughed silently and walked past the school gate. I wasn't aware of my surroundings and I bumped into someone tall and hard.
Oh God did I just hit a pole or something?? Why is it so hard??? I looked up and a wave of flashback just went over me.
"you cheated on me. I trusted you. You cheated on me with my trusted buddy!" he screamed at me. His face red from the anger.
My eyes widened from the claim. "excuse me? I didn't! Bokuto was eating so messily and I just wiped my handkerchief onto his mouth to wipe away the rice!" my hands clenched into a fist.
"what the fuck? Then explain why he hugged you on the bridge a few days ago? I had people watching over you two. I should've listened to the concubine. I shouldve trusted what the concubines said. I shouldn't have trusted you, slut." he slapped me across the cheek.
He was strong. I fell of my feet and fell onto the ground, hot tears spilling from my eyes. "I've never cheated on you with him. He caught me from falling into the the pond. Why don't you trust me? I would never cheat on you..." I cried.
"my servant saw you in the room with him two days ago. I knew you two were fucking behind my back. You shouldn't be the queen. You should be executed." he glared at me. He turned his back on me and walked towards the throne. "Officials, strip her off her title. Send her to the dungeon and punish her by whipping. Death by hanging."
"no! Stop! Stop! Im not cheating on you! I love you so much! Stop it! How dare you do this to your soulmate?" I screamed in fear. I would never cheat on him. Please believe me. Please...
The guards come running in, forcefully grabbing my arms and dragging me away. O struggled and tried to twist my arms to escape from them. There was no use. I looked at my soul mate in fear. "help me, Kuroo."
He looked away from me. His expression with hurt written all over his face. He still love me, right?
I was beaten. Whipped. Tortured. My whole body hurts. My eyes felt tired from crying for hours. My lungs sore from the screaming and crying. My body bloodied. I felt light headed. Just kill me already. I want to die. Die. Die. I really want to die. This flashback was worse than any other flash back I had.
Kuroo... Help me... I didn't cheat on you... I love you... Please.... Let me go... I love you... I want to be with you forever... Please stop...
After sunrise, the guards came in. They slapped me awake. "say your last words before you die, bitch." he spat on me.
I couldn't even flinch at his words anymore. I feel so numb. I just want to sleep. I want to go home. I want warmth. I want his warmth. I want Kuroo.
"I,,, didn't cheat on you, kuroo. I was planning our anniversary with Bokuto as a surprise for you. I wanted to have a party...just us... Having fun... I'm really tired. I will miss you, Kuroo. I really love you. But I don't want to be your soulmate anymore. I'm tired. You don't trust me. But I still... Love... You..."
My eyes slowly closed and my muscles all relaxed. Ah I've passed away. How embarrassing. Declaring my love for someone who doesn't even trust me. How pathetic. I hate my soulmate. I hate... Kuroo.
My head hurts. My whole body hurts. My world just spinning around. Tears poured down my eyes. I started hyperventilating. I bumped into someone and started to get a panic attack? My reputation is screwed. I caught a black headed messy hair stranger in front of me. Haha now I'm visioning of my soulmate. What a joke.
"(Y/N)... You're my soulmate...?" when those words come out from his mouth. My eyes snapped open. He is...
The person standing in front of me is the person I hate and I love the most. Kuroo... All those flashbacks come crashing down on me. I'm scared. "stop! Don't come near me! Don't hurt me! I'm sorry! Don't slap me! " I cried out loud, in front of everyone.
He immediately wrapped his arms around me tightly. "stop! (y/n) I won't hurt you! I love you! Please calm down!"
"don't touch me!!" I screamed my lungs out. "you're going to hurt me!"
"no, I won't! (y/n) please trust me!"
"no, stop! I'm scared. You're going to hurt me like the past. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared."
I pushed him off and stumbled backwards.
"I hate you."
#kuroo#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsuro x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu au#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#kuroo imagines#kuroo scenarios#hq x reader#hq kuroo#haikyuu angst#kuroo angst#kuroo fluff#kuroo tetsurou fluff#oikawa#kenma#kenma x reader#nekoma#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa tooru#kenma kozume#hq#haikyuu!!
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
ON [3]
Pairing: Jungkook x reader
Rating: M
Word Count: 7.7k
Summary: Jungkook’s life in the Citadel after everyone escapes is revealed. Later, you have an unfortunate encounter with a Death spirit named Hoseok; however, it leads you to the right place at the right time.
Warnings/Tags: violence, imprisonment and torture (again, not too hardcore because that’s not the point of the story), pain, escape, destruction, heartbreak, trauma
Author’s Note: Sorry, I lost track of the days, but I meant to post this earlier because the last chapter was so short. Anyway, I decided to rate this chapter M because this chapter consists of depictions of torture, imprisonment and pain that is up to the viewer’s discretion whether or not to read that material. As always, enjoy!
Masterlist
Part 3
Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World
“Haul that weevil to his feet!”
Hands harshly clawed and gripped under Jungkook’s arms. He groaned in pain and was drug up to eye level with the menacing Lead Governor. Blood dripped down the man’s—no, monster’s—arms and face, painting his skin to show the truth of who he was. A murderer. How many Mages did he manage to slaughter tonight?
“You brat!” The red monster hissed, spraying spittle in Jungkook’s face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just cost me? Cost this city?” He raised his knifepoint to the young Mage’s throat. Fresh, hot blood transferred from the sharp metal to under his chin. “You kids had it good. Fed, sheltered, clothed, unharmed, vouched for by that fucking old bag, Michael!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook replied lowly. “You took us away from our families, our home. Don’t think that because you’ve tricked yourself into thinking that you’ve provided for us, it excuses you and this entire damned city from the atrocities you committed against my people.”
“I’d hold your tongue boy. You are, after all, the last Mage in the city. You are quite outnumbered.”
“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Jungkook smirked fiendishly. “Lock me up and throw away the key? Make me grow plants for the rest of my life?” He began to laugh humorlessly. The fucking irony. Despite the endless heat of the outside, his blood was cold in his veins.
The Lead Governor let out his own grin, one that promised cruelty.
And there it was. Two worlds in a universe of darkness and pain, challenging each other to do their worst.
“No.” He said at last, eyes searching the Mage’s face for any sign of fear.
He would find none. Jungkook was not afraid of this sad excuse for a man of power. There were only two things to be afraid of—the darkness and Hell. When he died, he would not be going to Hell. As for the darkness… he’d stand a better chance against it then these cowards.
Get ready to start losing everything, old man. Your time is starting to run out, Jungkook’s heartless eyes told him. But deep down, he was glowing with pride. He was glad you had escaped and were probably far, far away. If he couldn’t save himself, he was happy he had saved so many and given them a second chance at life.
“I’ve got a special place reserved for you where you’ll be more of use to us. I’ve already got a few ideas… Big ideas.” the Lead Governor smiled in triumph. He may have lost all of the Citadel’s Mages, but this one. Jungkook had just proved to be a valuable asset. “Take him down to level Five. This brat needs to be taught a lesson before we move forward with reconditioning.” The black guard who’d taken him down replied in affirmation, signaling the soldiers to take Jungkook away.
Jungkook tried to tap into his magic, but he was severely weak. Whatever was on that guard’s blade had his magic writhing in pain, screeching like a wounded animal. The loss of his magic made it feel like he’s lost the ability to walk. He betted that his magic would heal soon. He’s a dead man to the Citadel without it, and they wanted him alive for whatever sick plan of theirs. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be participating. At least not voluntarily.
They drug him back down to that cold, wet dungeon, but they passed the level that he’d been living on for the past 10 years of his life. He was taken to a much darker part of the seemingly endless levels down, down, down stone steps upon steps to where the light of day does not touch. Metal hinges creaked, and the black guards unceremoniously tossed him into a cell. Jungkook slid across the slimy dungeon floor littered with straw. They yanked harshly on his arms, ripping his shirt off and clamping too tight manacles around his wrists that immediately dug and rubbed his skin raw. Suddenly, he was lifted up by those manacles, chains—black like oil—attached to them and to a flywheel the guards turned until his toes were left touching the ground. His shoulders barked in pain, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to scream in front of these monsters.
He finally got a good look at those black guard. Humans, definitely. Dressed in all black from the top of their head to their toes. He could barely make out a thick meshy material where their eyes, nose and mouth would be. They looked like cloned shadows.
One of them approached him—the same one that took him down. The guard held the knife covered in Jungkook’s blood and poked it sternly against his chest threateningly. Jungkook’s magic shook in his veins at the feel of whatever it was that coated that blade. His magic may be afraid, but he wasn’t.
“You won’t break me,” Jungkook hissed. “One day, I will walk out of this Citadel with it burning to the ground behind me. That’s a promise, and I always keep my promises.” His breathing picked up, chest puffing out with the increased ventilation. His body was preparing for whatever torture his jabs were about to bring him.
The guard snorted and reeled his bladed hand back. The metal sliced cleanly in an arch from the Mage’s right collarbone to left hip.
His magic began screeching inside of him again, shying as far away as it can from the armed man. Jungkook’s body went limp at the pain, too exhausted to let out any cry. Sweat dripped down his face, mixing with the dried blood that remained there from his head wound. He looked brutal—like he’s already been through several beatings, but no one has managed to break him yet.
Distantly, he heard himself letting out breathless laughter. His soul was moving farther and farther inside himself until he didn’t even know what was happening to him; what he was doing what day it was; how old he was.
He thought it went on for years. He was beaten too many times to count. They kept him chained up at all times and subdued his magic regularly with those poisoned blades. However, even though his magic refused to express itself whenever he was conscious enough to will it for simple levitation practice—to see if his magic would want to come out at all—it grew and grew like a ball of fire. Every year that he could older, his magic got stronger and more powerful. He had to release his magic, or it would burn him alive.
When he couldn’t coax it to express itself, he would wait and wait and wait. His magic started with simple hiccups, and then turned blasts of energy hitting the guards and walls around him, for which earned him more beatings and days without sunlight. Until the Lead Governor heard about these outbursts.
He realized then that he could brandish Jungkook into a weapon. Not just one against the darkness outside, but against neighboring civilizations that proved to be a nuisance to him and the Governing Circle. To test the Mage’s abilities, he would send haggard-looking people down into the dungeons for execution by the Mage’s fire.
Jungkook vehemently refused. He would not kill innocent people. The Lead Governor tried to convince that these people were criminals who plotted against the well-being of the Citadel. Jungkook didn’t give a shit even if it were true and continued to refuse the Governor’s orders. However, it did not stop him from getting what he wanted. He knew Jungkook’s magic was a ticking time bomb. Even if Jungkook refused to burn those people himself, his magic would do it at some point. And despite Jungkook’s efforts to suppress his magic, it did exactly what the Governor wanted. Even so, they dumped Jungkook outside in the harsh sun for endless hours afterwards as punishment for his insolence.
He never knew where he was in the Citadel. It was seemed like a different place every time. He could never get his vision to focus on his surroundings due to the glare of the light against his eyes, which were starved of any kind of light for weeks—months? So, he’d lay in the sunlight and try to pretend he was somewhere else beyond the Citadel. The white of the light allowed him to imagine a greener place with blue waters and chirping birds. And you were there too, smiling at him, waiting for him to join you in that peaceful place. Before he could join you, he was dragged back to his small hell deep below the earth, where the darkest parts of his mind would take over his heart.
He thought to himself, I’m merely a tool, useless without a wielder. After about the second or third round of these executions, Jungkook was convinced he lost control of his magic. If he couldn’t keep it from burning people alive, what could he possibly do? The Lead Governor now controlled his magic. It performed those executions. It was the thing the Lead Governor treasured above you. Jungkook was merely a vessel—one that took the magic wherever the Lead Governor willed it.
Nonetheless, his magic became more and more volatile. Jungkook couldn’t control the bursts of power that now escaped from him several times in a single day. At first it made him sneeze, like he had a cold, but it quickly morphed into the kind of power that cracked stone walls. Several of the guards posted outside his cell had been roasted to a crisp one particularly bad evening. Even the Lead Governor began to receive a healthy dose of fear at the news. However, it meant the worse for Jungkook.
The Lead Governor entered his cell one day—he wasn’t sure of the date—with a “present” for him.
New shackles.
Except those weren’t any ordinary shackles. These were made of twisted wood covered in inch long black, metal thorns. When they exchanged the shackles on his wrists, Jungkook’s spirit lifted for mere seconds the metal chains he’d had on his wrist for so long clanged to the ground. But that sweet taste of freedom was short-lived and replaced with a new layer of hell that he could not hide from.
The tips of the thorns were bathed in a fluid of the same family as the poison that liked to use to make his magic tremble and whimper in his blood. The barbs pierced his skin constantly, drawing out a steady stream of blood that pooled on the cracked stone floor beneath him. The Governing Circle had hoped that by draining his blood it would release his magic steadily, like a running faucet, in hopes that it would control the outbursts.
They couldn’t have been more wrong. Jungkook knew it wouldn’t help. They could drain him of his blood, but it could not drain him of the anger and fire in his veins. Every day, his mind screamed vengeance. One of these days, those motherfuckers would pay for taking everything away from him and locking him up like a dog.
And when that day came, it sounded with a piercing chorus of hundreds of screams.
Year 3061 – 400 years after the Fall of the World
A ravaging sickness overtook the Citadel. It started as a simple flu, but it mutated into a paralyzing virus that started at the limbs and made its way to the heart and lungs, where it eventually froze the ventilatory muscles and cardiac muscles that kept one alive. No one knew the cause—the contagion.
It drove the citizens into a complete frenzy, praying to whatever god might still be listening. Sacrificing goats and chickens and spilling their blood into the ground in an effort to appease the dark forces that are on the horizon. They blamed the sickness on the approaching darkness. The Governing Circle assured the people they had a plan to drive the darkness back; however, many people wanted to migrate East, but they simply couldn’t pack up the city and leave. They grew impatient with the Governors and decided to take matters into their own hands, protesting outside the Governors’ Assembly Hall, even being driven towards pillaging it.
Somehow, one individual had discovered the dungeons that had molded with age, but still held one last Mage deep, deep down within its walls. He was drug from his cell—still half asleep from the drug-induced haze from the poison.
“Get up! Get up! You must go!” Jungkook heard the cracked voice of an old man. “Wake up!” Cold water suddenly doused Jungkook, and it broke him out of his haze. It was Michael. “Now is your chance to go!” Michael hauled the Mage to his feet and up the dungeon stairs.
“Why?” Jungkook’s voice came out in a weak breath.
“I’ve done a lot of wrong in my life. I won’t atone for it all, but I won’t let a victim of my sins die a meaningless death after living a enslaved existence.” The old man explained as he used every last bit of his strength to get Jungkook up the stairs.
Sunlight slowly crawled into his vision, willing the muscles in his legs to stand him up on his own legs. His body propelled him forward towards that light, feet pounding up the stairs and hallways.
Fresh air filled his lungs, invigorating his body and bringing his mind to the present.
He was finally outside. He was finally being freed from the grave he’d been living in for so long. People stood outside of the Governors’ Assembly Hall and along the pathway that led to the gates of the Citadel. They were shouting at the Governing Circle perched on the Hall’s balcony, cursing at them, begging them to let people leave so they had a chance to survive. Only a few noticed Michael dragging the shackled Mage towards the Gates.
“Stop! Stop!” Jungkook knew that voice, and it sent his magic skirting away from it. The Lead Governor. “You can’t let him go! He’s going to protect us!” Jungkook turned around and saw a shell of the red monster he remembered him to be. His muscles had atrophied significantly, leaving his skin hanging of his bones. His eyes were hollowed and shaky as he descended from the balcony to stand in front of the Mage.
Shit… How many years has it been since he delivered the thorned shackles to him?
“Look, look! He’s going to help us! Our weapon against the darkness,” he pleaded, stumbling forward on his weak limbs. He smiled at the Mage, “Show them what you can do,” and pointed at the pile of rotting bodies on a wagon, dead from the contagion. “Burn them,” he commanded. The Mage remained without reaction for several tense moments before gesturing to the shackles on his wrists.
“I can’t very well do that with these on.” The Mage deadpanned.
The Lead Governor’s face morphed into that of the red monster the Mage knew so well. “Trickster! Useless brat!” He spat at the Mage, kicking a hard boot into his chest. The Mage was knocked to the ground from the surprising force of it.
“Shut up!” A burly citizen yelled. “You told us you eradicated the Mages two decades ago to keep the darkness away! But you secretly hide these Mages for your own benefit, and it ends up killing all of us!”
“No, no! I was trying to help us!” He exclaimed.
“The Mages are a curse to the Earth! It’s time they paid for the treachery they’ve brought upon this city with blood!” The giant man grabbed the Mage by a fistful of hair, baring his throat to the sickle he held in his hand.
The last thing he saw was the burning flames in the Mage’s eyes before he was incinerated to ash. The Mage’s magic had burst from his veins and out through his hands—his fingertips and where the shackles pieced his skin. The Mage roared in pain as the poison tried to rip through the fire shooting from his hands. Fresh blood began to stream down his arms.
The sickle clanged to the blood and ash covered ground where the man once stood. The Citadel had fallen silent with terror at the Mage who so easily had destroyed one of their own. The Lead Governor began to laugh hysterically, “See, see, see! I told you what it could do! That magic can protect us!”
The Citadel erupted into shouts and hollering. “Protect us?! Are you insane?”
Suddenly, another citizen stepped forward with a rifle. The moment the safety clicked off; the flames erupted from the Mage’s hands once again. Except it did not stop so easily this time. The fire burned the man and his rifle into ash and liquid melt. It reached beyond to the tightly packed houses and shacks, to the clothed bodies lying on the street, and to the fiendishly cackling shell of a man.
By the time the flames ceased, the Citadel had become more like the hell Jungkook had grown used to. Sheer panic and fear as flames licked across the city at a rapid speed, engulfing everything in its raging spirit. Humans battled for the last of the weapons and resources. Blood began to stain the soil.
No one dared try to battle him. Not even as he began to sprint towards the gates. The stone giants boomed before slowly splitting apart to reveal a barren outside world. He quickened his strides to a full-on sprint. The people around him became blurs, the outside world becoming his only focus. With every step, the thorns in his restraints dug further into his skin, but he couldn’t stop now. Freedom was so close he could taste it.
20 meters.
10 meters.
5 meters.
And then he passed through the gates… and kept running.
Jungkook ran and ran and ran, looking back only once to bestow a final goodbye to his previous home and living hell.
His long-standing promise was fulfilled.
….
He didn’t know how long he ran for or how far, but he didn’t stop until the Citadel was long gone behind him. At one point, he came upon a wooded area and quickly figured there must be water there.
The poison from the shackles was starting to get to him again; the adrenaline rush from running out of that place was wearing off. Blood dripped from his hands, creating a trail behind him. He cursed at himself for not demanding removed these infernal things from his wrists.
Soon, the world began to tilt and blacken around the edges. Jungkook’s legs gave out from under him, and he toppled into the grass. His breathing slowed, body feeling the pull under until he was too exhausted to fight it anymore and passed out under the burning sun.
….
“Ya!” You snap the reigns on the horse, which took off towards the direction of the oasis to collect more herbs for Namjoon and for the trading expedition you were about to embark on at the last meet. A merchant came by the camp yesterday, swearing that he had heard the sound of the Citadel’s gates opening. It sounded like giants stomping on the Earth’s floor. You can’t miss it. It was the first news you’d heard in over a decade. There had been sporadic reports of the Citadel open and closing its doors up until two years after you escaped. After that… nothing.
You didn’t need any further proof. You would be on the road tomorrow before the sun was up, combing the routes for any word of the Governing Circle and the last Mage that remained in the city.
The silver-haired warrior’s words rung in your head constantly. That Citadel is a locked box, probably to never be opened again. No one decided to take the chance on launching another attack again. There was no simple solution how to get past those walls. You tried not to dwell on that too much, instead focusing your energy on how to possibly infiltrate the Citadel through its trade routes. You’d tried several times to track down Citadel merchants, who seemed to come out once in a blue moon, but by the time you got to the trading market or their camp, they’d disappear into thin air.
Your jaw sets in frustration.
The horse suddenly begins to step from foot to foot in anxiety, making noises of discomfort. You break out of your thoughts and hush the horse, stroking its chocolate brown coat. Coaxing it to continue forward with soft nickering, you peer beyond the trees in front of you as the horse slowly crosses over the oasis’s soft green ground.
That’s when you hear it.
High-pitched cackling and giggling—like a kid who has just won a carnival game.
Quietly, you slide down from the horse and tie it to a nearby tree. You fish through the pouch on the side of your saddle and grab a handful of what you needed before slipping through the trees to get a closer look at the jubilant being. And it was as you expected.
A death spirit.
He is dancing about a lying face-first in the grass. The death spirit is chanting a low and gibberish chant, kicking and poking the body, which remains unmoving. You suspect the person was nearly dead, judging from the spirit’s merry attitude and the fact it hadn’t started sucking the soul from the body.
You learned about these life-hungry demons from Namjoon years ago, when he warned you about their presence in these wooded areas and oases. Many people liked to come to these places to die in peace, so death spirits knew they could find their next meal here. Unfortunately, for you, it meant dealing with them somewhat regularly when you needed to get supplies for the doctor. He hated sending you out here, but you stood a better chance against them than he did. Namjoon encouraged you to get rid of them when you could.
You step out from behind the billowing trees, cautiously approaching the death spirit. “Be gone, malicious spirit,” you command, “You have no place here.”
The death spirit whips around, eyes wide in surprise, before he cracks back into laughter. “Haha! It’s my lucky day! I haven’t had two souls to eat in one day in centuries.”
“You must go demon! I’m not planning to die today.” You spare a quick glance at the body that lied several feet away from you. You see the faint rise and fall of breath. “And it appears that neither are they, so you shouldn’t be here to collect yet.”
The spirit whines and stomps his foot, annoyed that you ruined his meal. “He’s almost dead! Just a little while longer…” Its grins broadly in unadulterated excitement, but it looks more fiendish than innocent. The death spirit turns to the body, watching it like it was a ticking clock.
You take a moment to scrutinize the death spirit. It wears clothes from the Old Word that were rarely seen nowadays—a white t-shirt with basketball sneakers and matching dark jean jacket and pants. It is much younger than most of the death spirits you’ve encountered. It was probably no more than twenty-five when it sold its soul to the Devil in hopes of gaining power over the human race—a large reason why the world fell, you came to learn. The price when that power ran dry: Its soul would wander the earth forever, starving for the souls of the dead and serving anyone who called upon him.
“That’s too bad, spirit. It’s time for you to go.” By the time, it turns around, you throw a handful of ground sage at its feet. The spirit yelps, but the sage merely dusts its shoes. More of the sage lands on the body and the grass surrounding it.
The death spirit cackles. “You foolish girl! That can’t kill me.” It dustes the sage off its sneakers. “Almost dead…” he mutters again before extending a finger to poke the body again. A shield of force knocks the spirit’s hand back. It gasps in surprise before banging his hand against the air again but getting knocked back repeatedly. “Ah!” It screams in frustration. “You’re dead now!”
You didn’t expect the spirit to move with such swiftness, slamming you up against a tree and pressing his forearm against your throat. You push against him, trying to keep him from stunting the blood flow in your neck with his arm. Your mind scrambles for a plan, a solution, an idea. Then, it hits you. “Spirit, what do you want?”
Instantly, the death spirit backs away. “What do I want?” He repeats, confusion lacing his tone.
“Yeah. What do you want? If you leave me and the body alone, I’ll grant you a request.” You explain with a soothing tone.
He laughs. “What could you, human, do for an old, powerful spirit such as me? Give me a sack of potatoes? A prayer to save my soul?” He continues to laugh at you.
“I’m not a human. I’m a Mage.”
This piques his interest, eyes alighting with delivery. “A Mage,” he considers you, eyes looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll bite. But that doesn’t excuse you from what you are to owe me. Two bodies, two requests,” he olds up two fingers on each hand for emphasis.
“How about one request, and I won’t call upon you to serve me?” You retort.
“HA! You don’t know my name! It’s still two requests, now hurry and agree or I might just get impatient and call it off. That body gets closer to death every second you waste, and I’m really hungry.”
“How do you know I don’t know your name?”
“Because I haven’t told you, of course! Don’t get smart with me, or you might end up dead before he does!” The spirit jabs a finger in the direction of the body.
“I think you should be careful with your threats,” you warn lowly.
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused with your gutsiness.
Well, how about this for amusement? “You shouldn’t threaten your future master… Jung Hoseok.”
His face falls, becoming pale very quickly. “I—I didn’t even tell you my name!”
You smile with bitter sweetness. “Yes, you did Hoseok. Didn’t you say not but a few minutes ago, ‘You genius, Hoseok! This barren world has nothing on you Hoseokie—all powerful, great Jung Hoseok!’” You repeat his earlier chants back to him, and his scowl deepens. He dares a step toward you, and you raise a finger, “Uh-uh. You play by my rules now, spirit. We either make the deal on my terms or you remain tethered to me. Your pick, Hoseok.”
“Fine.” He bites out.
“You get one request of what you want, and then you leave me and that man alone. That’s the deal. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” In an afterthought to yourself, you could have used this to get him to let you both go, and he gets away with nothing. However, you didn’t plan on keeping this death spirit tied to you. It was a cruel joke, and you didn’t want some random man appearing out of nowhere during your daily life. And if you release him from servitude without so much as some benefit, he would still be sticking around for the day of your death to collect your soul. That definitely wasn’t on your list of things to do. “Alright, then. Jung Hoseok, what do you want?”
He casts his gaze downwards in thought, swiping at the grass with the bottom of his shoe. When he stills, you assume he thought of something. What you didn’t expect was the sorrow that darkens his features—a stark contrast to his earlier bubbly appearance. “I want,” he starts. “I want something that would make me happy.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Hoseok.”
“You didn’t say I needed to. Besides, I’m a death spirit. How would I know what would make me happy?” You groan in frustration at his response, which earns you a triumphant smile from him.
“I release you from service,” you state firmly. It is worth a shot.
“Thank you, sweet Mage. However, that didn’t make me particularly happy. Not the kind of happy that I was talking about.” Suddenly, the cackling fiend is back, and he’s clearly getting a kick out of testing your patience. “I’ll tell you what Mage… For being clever and a good sport, I’ll let you and the almost-dead man go. I still want my happy thing, and I’ll give you three summers to find it.”
Great… Another thing to be worried about. You have absolutely no idea where to start, and you didn’t get a chance to ask him questions that might clue you in before he waved goodbye and disappeared. “Just perfect,” you mutter, brushing off your clothes. You look around the area to be sure he was gone, and you are reminded of the near-dead man lying face-down in the grass.
“Shit!” You rush over to the man’s side and heave him onto his back. The first thing you notice are the horrid shackles around his wrists—thorns piercing mangled, dark pink flesh. You move to find a mechanism to remove them but touching them burns you and sends your magic scrambling far away from those infernal things. Dried blood coats his hands and forearms. His skin is ghostly pale—a sign of having one foot in the grave. But these shackles couldn’t simply be the reason he was dying. You gently touch and run your hands over his torso, searching for any mortal wound, but finding none.
You run your fingers across his scalp, looking for any head wounds like how Namjoon taught you. You found none, but that’s not what struck you. It was the hair itself—so dark, so soft, so… familiar. The feel of it sent the deepest part of your memory scrambling for a match. You turn his face skyward, wincing at the thick, deep scar that ran from his hairline down to his right cheek. A number of other scars litter his face, marring the fullness of his cheekbones, slopped nose, sharp jawline and pink lips.
All of it so handsome and familiar.
You choke on a sob, tears flooding your eyes and falling down your face. You stroke a gentle hand across the side of his face, cradling his head.
“Jungkook?” You whimper. Was it really him? Was he really here? If so, how did he get here, and why was he so close to death? You had to know if it was him, and there was only one way to check. Sniffling, you rip up his sleeve, instantly spotting the matching tattoo you had on your forearm.
Three evenly striped lines—a symbol every Mage was required to have while living in the Citadel for identification. However, your people had learned to take pride in it as it knit you all together and made you a family.
Oh my god, it was him.
“Jungkook,” you call him name, firmer and louder. “Jungkook! Jungkook, wake up!” You grasp his shoulders and pat his cheek in attempt to get him to open his eyes. “Open your eyes!” You check his pulse and to see if he’s still breathing. Weak pulse and even weaker breaths. “I’m not letting you go when I’ve just found you,” you hiss.
Doing the only thing you know might work, you lay your hand on his cloth-covered chest and take a couple deep breaths. Your magic presses up against Jungkook’s chest under your hand, searching and waiting for his to find yours. “C’mon, c’mon.” He didn’t have much time left, but you couldn’t focus on that. You had to coax magic forward.
You think of the serenity around you—the birds chirping in the early morning sun; the trees rustling and whispering to each other; the softness of the green grass under you; the trickling of the water over river rocks. You think of the time you spent together as kids in the village and as teenagers in the hidden corners of the Greenhouse to eat stolen fruits and vegetables. You think of first and last time he kissed you; the softness of his lips and touch, seeking for more but never too greedy. Always incredibly gentle.
Despite the cold shade of Jungkook’s skin, warmth begins to radiate from him under your hand. Your face lights up with hope. His magic is coming forth and responding to yours. You bite your lip in concentration, calling out his name in your mind for him to come back.
He is safe and here with you.
He is safe and here with you.
He is safe… with you.
Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, gazing blearily on the light blue sky above him. He draws in a deep breath, chest inflating under your palm. “Jungkook?” It takes him a few moments, but then he finally turns his head to see you.
“Y/n?” His brown eyes spark with recognition, but his voice conveys that he wasn’t really sure if you are actually here.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here, and I’m going to help you. You’re going to be alright,” you try to reassure him to spark some life back in him. You push his short hair from his face, so he could see you better. Despite your words, he still seems so distance, like he was teetering between life and death—between one and zero.
“It hurts,” he whimpers roughly. Suddenly, his breathing becomes rapid and he begins to squirm under your touch. “Get them off. Get them off!” You track his gaze to the shackles. You begin to panic. You couldn’t touch them, but he is in so much pain, and he might go out again from it alone. Your hands dove for the wooden shackles again, but you couldn’t handle it for more than a few seconds before it sears into your skin. You cry for Jungkook as you can’t imagine how much pain he’s in, how long these damned things have been on him.
He is writhing, like a demon had just gotten possession of him. Fresh sweat dampens his skin as he keeps crying out for help. My god, you have to get him to Namjoon, he has to help. You scramble to your feet and run back for your horse. Ripping the pouch off the saddle, you dumped the contents and clamber for the little green vial.
Once you find it, you dive back to the place behind Jungkook’s head and spill the contents of the vial onto your hands. “I’ll make it stop, Jungkook, I promise,” you say, although it is drowned out by his screams. You cup the back of his neck, and his screams cease immediately. He relaxes, the oil sending him into a calm, numb state. “Don’t worry, Jungkook. I have you now. I’m going to help you.” You let out a sob, wiping your face on your shoulder.
Pull yourself together, y/n. He needs your help.
“I have to get him to Namjoon,” you say to yourself. With purpose, you rush back to your horse, untie it from the tree and bring it back to Jungkook. With the aid of your magic and all your physical strength, you pull him up onto the saddle in front of you. Mounting the horse swift, you rest Jungkook back against you before snapping the reins and riding back as fast as you could to the camp.
Namjoon. He’ll know what to do.
….
“Namjoon! Help! Come quickly!” You shout. He comes tripping out of the clinic, but thankfully doesn’t fall.
“What is it? What happened?” He shouts back.
“Help him! These shackles are killing him, and I can’t get them off! You have to get them off right now!” You grunt as Jungkook’s body falls, dead-weight, into yours when you pull him off the horse. “Help me, Namjoon, dammit!”
He breaks out of his thoughtfulness as to examine the situation and helps you haul Jungkook inside to a hospital bed with significant strength. Inside, he runs for a serrated knife and sticks the blade in the oven’s fire. Once the blade was white with heat, Namjoon grasps the wood carefully to hold it in place while he saws through them. Despite his efforts to hold the shackles still, they shift with every quick back and forth of the sawing.
Jungkook begins to stir with the activity, whimpering. Fresh sweat coats his forehead “Hurry Namjoon!”
“I’m trying. I’m halfway through.” He tries to encourage you, but it’s taking too long, and Jungkook is starting to hiss and pant. No doubt those thorns were shifting and digging even further into his skin from the movement of the blade. Any more time wasted on trying to saw it open—
It was going to kill him.
“Move, Namjoon!” He dives out of your way as you lunge for the partially split shackles. Your fingers brace against the serrated edges from the sawing, the contact already burning you. With a scream, you bring forth every bit of magic you have and break the infernal device cleanly the rest of the way through. The thorns tear themselves from Jungkook’s skin.
You lift the shackles from his wrists, fresh blood and bits of flesh drenching it, and you throw it against the stone wall with great strength. You cry from relief when the shackles finally leave you, hissing at the burns on your hands.
“Y/n!” Namjoon calls.
“What the hell is happening?” You distantly hear Taehyung yell through the ringing in your ears.
“Help, y/n,” Namjoon instructs. “She’s burned her hands.”
Taehyung grabs the topsides of your hands, not touching the burns, and uses his magic to send a cooling sensation to ease the pain. His face flickers with disbelief at his magic quivering in fear, “What is this?” You knew what he meant. Whatever was on those shackles left a residue on your hands, and Taehyung’s magic could sense it.
You look over at Jungkook to see he’s stopped moving again. “Namjoon, did he pass out?” You watch him check for a pulse. When he nods, relief sags your shoulders. “It appears so. He won’t die, don’t worry. I think he’s finally getting some rest.”
The good news breaks your heart all over, bringing your mind back to the many questions you had about those shackles. How long has he had those on? You knew the Citadel had put those on. What other place is there out there that would do this to a Mage? What other sick and twisted things did they do to him?
You begin to cry again. Taehyung frowns and moves you to rest your head on his shoulder. He rubs a hand up and down your back to soothe you.
Silently and swiftly, Namjoon disinfects and bandages Jungkook’s wrist, which were covered in pierced holes and mangled, ripped, scarred flesh. Some color had started to tone his skin again. Namjoon cut Jungkook’s shirt off to examine for more wounds.
You gasp, horrified. Your breath leaves your body in a rush at the sight of Jungkook’s torso covered in scars of all different shapes and depths. You feel your stomach turn and bile rise in your throat. Taehyung grips you harder when your knees buckle. “Get her out of here,” Namjoon directs at Taehyung. He even sounded sick. Shaking his head, willing himself to focus, Namjoon hands Taehyung a tin can. “She can’t be here for this, right now.”
Taehyung nods and pulls you up, supporting your body weight against his as he takes you out of the clinic and back to your little house.
In there, Taehyung lays you down on your bed roll in the back room. You continue to sob quietly, wincing when you try to use your hands to push yourself to sit. “Here.” Taehyung opens the tin and scoops out generous amounts of cream to slather on your burned hands. “You need to rest. I’ll stay close by if you need anything.”
He starts to leave to sit outside your house, but you stop him. “Wait. You come wake me if anything happens to him? Right?” Taehyung nods, and you let him go.
It takes a while for you to shut your eyes at all, and when you did, it is only for a few hours. It restores your magic and energy a little bi—enough to get you on your feet to go back to the clinic. Taehyung catches you outside your house, but you reassure him that you’re good now. You notice that it’s almost well into the evening, so you send him off to check on his sister and go to dinner.
Back in Namjoon’s clinic, he’s writing down notes frantically at his desk, not wanting to forget a thing. “Hey,” he greets softly. “How are your hands?”
You examine them, seeming how the skin already looks less red and irritated. “Much better. Your medicines are like magic.”
He shrugs. “I try my best. Your magic is what makes you heal much faster though. It harmonizes with the natural properties of the plants I use.”
“How is he?” You ask, watching Jungkook rest peacefully. He is curled up on his side, cheek squished into the pillow.
“His condition has improved greatly as well. Physically, he’s going to be alright. Emotionally, mentally…” He trails off. “It’s like how I explained to you when you first arrived at the camp. A person can have many internal wounds, and it will take time for that person to heal.” His words hang heavy in the air, reminding you of the reality you now have to face.
He’s not the same Jungkook that got left behind 12 years ago. He’s scarred and broken on the outside, and there was no doubt in your mind that the inside might very well look the same.
You can’t imagine what the Citadel was like for him. All alone. The last Mage.
He must have been punished severely for taking part in the escape and aiding in saving every other Mage. Saving you. The survivor’s guilt settles back in after so long. It had faded with time, but its resurfacing had returned with even more guilt for the fact she had failed to do anything to get him out of there.
Namjoon sees your face crumple as those thoughts circulate in your head. “Y/n.” Your eyes meet Namjoon’s. “Do you know him?”
You nod, gaze weighed down by sorrow and happiness all at once. “This is Jungkook.” Namjoon’s eyes widen in recognition of the name. You had told him several stories about your best friend. “It would seem he just escaped from the Citadel. Fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them. You let out a shuttering breath. “He was in there all by himself for twelve years.”
“Those shackles he had,” which where thankfully nowhere to be in sight, “I studied them with another Mage while you were gone. It appears those only affect Mages, not humans.” Which would explain why when Namjoon touched them he didn’t hurt; why those things were the perfect weapon for the Citadel. “Those thorns were coated in a poison from a herb known to be dangerous to Mages. It was rumored to be called the Witcher’s Sage. It was destroyed with the Old World, but it appears there is still some floating around out there.”
Natural silence falls between you until Namjoon’s stomach growls. “You go eat. I’ll watch him for a little bit.”
“You sure?” A simple question, not a doubt of capability.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Namjoon heads out of the clinic as you take a seat across from Jungkook’s bed.
He looks so much livelier than when you found him. Body rising and falling with even breaths, and face relaxes in slumber. His skin returns to that natural beautiful tan tone you remember. Despite the scarring on his face, you can see through them to his handsome features. Of course, long gone were the remains of baby fat around his face that were there the last time you saw him.
He’d grown into a man. He looks so much longer, like he sprouted another half a foot in height. His bones grew bigger, giving him broader shoulders and thicker arms and legs. Although he was imprisoned, the Citadel must have kept him fed. Muscle still remains on his body, albeit larger in volume than they were twelve years ago, but he was still very lean. You’d venture to say he is wavering towards being a low normal weight for his age and stature.
You brush the uninjured back of your hand lightly against his shoulder, needing to feel him. He didn’t even stir the slightest. You wonder if he is dreaming. A part of you hopes he isn’t so he’d get a deep, restful sleep while another part of you hopes he is dreaming of happy things.
You have no idea how he is going to react when he wakes up, but you know that you’d be here to help him heal from the trauma. There were going to be good days and bad days, but it isn’t anything you couldn’t handle. It would be a while longer before you could see if Jungkook still saw, or even remembers, you as his best friend and lover, but you could wait for him because you never stopped loving him any less ‘lo these many years.
#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanction#on#ON music video#interpretation#jeon jungkook#reader x jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jung hoseok#j-hope#kim namjoon#namjoon#kim taehyung#taehyung#V#storyline#ON story#namjoonspiration
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Morning- Bucky Barnes Fic Part 2
Summary: Bucky reminisces and mourns y/n. The events of Endgame transpire.
Genre: More angst than I intended but a happy ending!
Word Count: 2.5k
Note: Thanks for all the lovely feedback on part 1! Hearing people’s reactions to the things I create motivates me to keep making them. I was too lazy to rewatch Endgame so everything is based off of my memory, by the way. Also, do you guys like having music to go with some scenes or is it distracting? Please let me know your thoughts!
Y/n was a homebody. Of course she loved spending time with her friends and seeing new sights every once in a while, but ever since she met Bucky, the place where she enjoyed the most was home. When they bought their first house together, y/n had visions of what she wanted the place to be.
“We have to get cute chairs for the front porch. Imagine going out there in the morning and having a cup of coffee while getting to watch the sunrise, how nice is that?...Oh! And we have to make sure we have tons of paintings and pictures on the walls, I hate when people leave it bare. I was thinking for the kitchen...”
Bucky was only half listening to her ideas. He knew that whatever she did, he would love, because she was trying to make a house their home. He knew she would make sure that it was apparent that they lived there, as she was a very expressive person. He loved that about her, how her personality was so big she wore it on her sleeve.
Getting everything unpacked only took one week, as y/n spent all day and all night decorating and putting everything where it needed to go, with Bucky’s help of course.
The night y/n deemed they had their “finished project”, they took two wine glasses out to the front porch, along with the crosley Steve gifted Bucky for his past birthday. A record was softly playing.
Y/n and Bucky sat in their “cute” chairs, along with the music floating through the evening air.
“I think it’s funny how our appliances and security system is so hi-tech, yet we probably get the most use out of your record player and my old polaroid.” Y/n commented.
A small smirk was on Bucky’s face. “I guess I never thought about that, but you’re right.”
“You know, I’ve always been an old soul. I know it seems like everyone says that but it’s true for me. I grew up on this technology yet I’ve always relied on pen and paper. I matured so young. History was always my favorite class in school, too. The World Wars fascinated me. I would go home and read all about them, past the stuff they would assign. I always wondered what it was like to live during that time.” She looked Bucky in the eye.
Bucky thought for a moment. He didn’t think about his life before HYDRA all too often anymore. His mind was now occupied with thoughts about other things, or rather on a particular person.
“Well, the air was fresher. It was just as noisy though. People talked on the streets louder, and you could hear the car engines on the road more. People weren’t so afraid of each other either.”
Bucky looked down at his hands, his eyes flickering between his flesh and metal one.
“You would walk in a place and pretty much talk to anyone. If someone came battered and bruised at your door, you would let them in. People had lost so much after the Great War, that any ounce of kindness or normalcy was embraced.”
“I bet the parties were pretty lame, though.” Y/n said lightheartedly, looking up to Bucky to see his reaction.
“You kidding? Yeah, you couldn’t really hear the music all to well but the dancing was just as good, if not better. Drinks were cheaper, too.”
Y/n laughed at that. “Everything was cheaper, Buck.”
“Well no shit.” He chuckled.
“The music was great though, I’ll give you guys that.”
Bucky hummed in agreement.
The record player crackled as it moved to the next track. The clarinet of Benny Goodman filled their ears, and Peggy Lee’s soft voice glittered in the air.
Y/n stood up from her spot, and reached her hand out to Bucky. “Dance with me.”
He smiled up at her and grabbed her hand. She turned the dial up on the crosley, and wrapped her arms around his body. Her head rested in the crook of his neck. He held her hand and placed his other arm around her waist. They swayed to the tune.
The only sound he focused on was the music playing and her light breathing. The only thing he thought about was her. In that moment, he looked at her with stars in his eyes because she was his whole universe. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman.
“I love you so much, Bucky.” She whispered delicately in his ear.
Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled a breath, taking in her lovely scent.
“I love you too, darling. So much.”
“Even when I’m a little wine drunk?” She said pulling back to look at his face, a crooked smile on hers.
He grinned at her. “Even more when you’re wine drunk. You’re more fun that way.” He said cheekily.
“Oh shut it, Barnes.”
He laughed and held her face in his hands, and gently moved forward to kiss her. She responded, wrapping her arms tighter around him, her finger tips softly tugging at the ends of the hair on the nape of his neck.
Bucky could honestly say that that was one of the happiest times of his life.
Now he was left destroyed, absolutely shattered, with the absense of her. He knew his happiness rested in her, no matter how unhealthy it might seem. Half of him went away the day she vanished.
5 years without her. 5 years of misery. He felt like he just watched every day go by, not really there.
His life lacked color without her in it. Bucky thought that after 5 years maybe, just maybe, things would eventually lessen but the pain still ached in his chest. He yearned for her. It didn’t help living in the place where she last was, everything reminding him of her.
He kept her small pile of dirty clothes laying on the floor in their bedroom. He left her art studio untouched, not baring to open the door again. Even a mug that had her chapstick stain on it remained on her bedside table.
The little fragments of her pained him to look at, but at the same time it kept y/n’s memory alive. But Bucky couldn’t ever possibly forget her.
His day started just the same as every day before that, after the infamous snap. He woke up later than he used to, showered a bit less, and moved around hardly. Some days were better than others, though. Bucky counted days where he could drag himself to the grocery store a win.
The time on his phone read 10:35. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, knowing Steve was going to be disappointed in being late yet again for a meeting. He already had 3 missed texts and 2 calls from him.
Hey, where are you?
Answer your phone.
Damnit Bucky. I thought things were getting better.
Bucky huffed at reading the last one. As if he could ever get better. As if his soul, body, and heart didn’t long for her to still be with him.
He texted back a “Sorry, leaving now” before quickly putting on some clothes that didn’t smell like rubbish before hastily leaving the house.
————
Bucky sat across from Steve in the cafe booth, staring at him with pained eyes. He didn’t breathe. He looked down after a moment, trying to process what Steve just revealed to him.
“Every night since the snap I’ve gone to bed wishing I could have done something. That I could do something to reverse it all. I’ve held onto this hope. But as the days turned into years I’ve had to face the reality that she-“ Bucky paused. “She’s not coming back. None of them are. And you just spring this onto me. I don’t know if I can allow myself to build up that hope again just to have it all crash down on me. I couldn’t endure that.” He shook his head, meeting Steve’s blue irises.
“Of course there is no guarantee that this will work. But you owe it to her to try. We owe it to all of them. If there is any chance, any slim chance this could work, why not take it?”
Bucky let his words hang in the air. He really thought about it. Of course he would do anything for her, anything. But the feeling he felt when he found her ashes, realizing that this was all real and that she was gone, tore him apart. Having to rexperience that would be torture. Not even HYDRA could have done damage to him like that. But Steve was right.
He owed it to her, his light. He was so tired of living in the darkness. He would do anything for her.
“Okay. When do we leave?”
———
Banner had done it. When the plant outside the compound window reappeared, and the birds started singing louder, Bucky could feel his chest rise with hope and relief. When Clint received a call from his wife, Bucky cried.
She was back. He couldn’t see her but Bucky could feel the heart strings reattaching and the aching dulled. His world was colorful again.
The blissful moment was short lived when the building started to crumble and they realized they were under attack from Thanos.
The nerve of that fucking guy.
Bucky came out of the rubble seemingly unharmed, running to Steve. The fight had began.
Bucky just wanted to run home to her. He knew she would probably be so confused, stepping out of her studio and seeing the state of the house. It was a wreck. Bucky just couldn’t take care of it or himself anymore.
But he knew this would end in a fight. Thanos needed to be ended.
So he fought. Sending bullets into the skulls of the extra terrestrial beings and punching any creature that got in his way, he kept the image of y/n in mind. The knowledge of her being alive and him not getting to see or hold her killed him, but he was determined as ever to beat the fuck out of Thanos and his army.
In the moment he sent a bullet through another creature’s skull, the being wisped away into ashes instead of falling back on the soil. Bucky looked around, confused, until he saw Stark in the distance wielding the gauntlet.
His eyes widened as he witnessed the thousands of aliens, Thanos included, being vanished into the air. He cringed at the sight of Peter and Pepper hunched in anguish over Tony’s body.
Steve approached Bucky from behind, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
“You alright?” Steve asked, tears in his eyes. It had been one hell of a day.
Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I can’t believe Stark did it.”
Steve looked down, not wanting to Bucky to see the tear that escaped. He stood there for a few seconds, letting everything settle over him.
“You should go home. You should be able to find a car by the compound, or whatever is left of it.”
Bucky looked at him.
“What about you?”
“I’m going to catch up with Sam. Don’t worry about me. Go see her.”
Bucky instantly grinned at the mention of y/n. He hugged Steve.
“Give my regards to Sam.” He stated.
“Same to y/n.” Steve smiled.
Bucky gave Steve one last look before jogging towards the compound, his feet picking up momentum the more he thought about y/n.
He was going home, at last.
------
She was sitting on the porch chairs, a distant look in her eyes. She was holding onto a wine glass.
Her eyes widened when the car approached the driveway.
Bucky didn’t even turn it off before he got out, running to her. She gasped.
“Buck-”
“Y/n!” He swiftly pulled her into him, crushing their bodies together. He inhaled her beautiful scent. He cried.
They held each other for a while, the only thing to be heard was the muffled sounds of their breaths and clogged noses, the happiest of tears shedding.
He kissed her temple, his lips lingering. He looked down into her eyes, hers showing both love and relief.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. You have no idea how happy I am to see you. God, it was hell without you.”
Her face contorted in concern. “I can’t imagine what it was like, Buck. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything, but pulled her into his embrace again, cradling her head in his arms. He kissed her hair.
That night, they laid in their bed, it now feeling warm and comfortable and right. He held her in his arms, so tight and close. She nestled into him, her body fitting his like a puzzle piece. Neither of them were sleeping, but neither spoke a word. He could explain everything to her later. She could tell Bucky just needed a break from talking or thinking, all he needed was to just hold her. To know that she was really there with him.
After a few moments, Bucky turned his body to face hers, moving his arm that was underneath her to his side, his other wrapped around her torso. He gazed at her.
“Will you marry me?” He whispered, voice husk, sincere.
She stared at him, and tried to stifle a laugh, but a chuckle escaped her. Bucky’s face held a bit of amusement, at the joy of getting to hear the beautiful sound, but also confusion at her reaction.
“What?” he asked.
She met his eyes. “You know I’m not one for grand romantic gestures or cheesiness, but I’m just imagining how Winifred would have reacted to you asking me that like that.” Her smiled reached the corner of her eyes, a small laugh following.
Bucky looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head and grinning. “She’s rolling in her grave right now, yelling at me about being a gentleman and my rudeness.”
Y/n giggled, reaching out to rub Bucky’s arm.
“Oh, totally.”
After their laughs cooled down, Y/n stared at Bucky fondly and determined.
“Of course I’ll marry you, Bucky.” She pressed a kiss to his hand that rested on her shoulder.
It was crazy how much a difference a day made. Yesterday, Bucky didn’t have purpose to his life. Without y/n by his side, he didn’t see the point in continuing on. But now, having y/n in the home they shared, their bed they occupied, wrapped up in her, he wished to have all the time in the world to be alive and share it with her. Before, the only solace he gained was in sweet dreams of her, because it was the only time he felt her presence when she was no longer around. Now, Bucky didn’t want to fall asleep, he wanted to stay awake forever and spend every waking moment with her.
He fell asleep that night holding her, hearing her soft snores. In the morning when he woke up around 6, he stared at her lovely face, undisturbed by the peacefulness of sleep. He could hear the sound of four birds chirping furiously. For once, the sound filled him with an overwhelming amount of joy.
He was whole again.
#Bucky Barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky angst#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#marvel fanfiction#marvel#marvel writing#marvel fanfic#avengers fanfiction#Avengers writing#bucky barnes reader insert#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes series#bucky barnes writing#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#winter solider x you#winter solider x y/n#winter soldier#bucky fanfic#bucky fanfiction
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
We’ll rise up
Previously Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
AO3
~~~~~~
Chapter 17. La Force Prison
Claire tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.
La Force Prison.
If life was a fairytale, this story would start thus: Once upon a time, Henri-Jacques Nompar de Caumont, Duc de la Force, built a wonderful complex as his private residence in Paris.
But this was no bedtime story. After passing several hands, the war ministry had acquired the buildings before thirty-five years and the Hôtel de la Force got a brand new name and purpose. The past nine years, the proud La Grande Force, was keeping behind its walls all debtors and people charged with civil offences.
“Which building? Do you know where they keep Jamie?” Claire asked Murtagh, frowning at La Grande Force as though the stone buildings had personally offended her.
“Hopefully he’s in the one at the centre,” Murtagh returned, eyes fixed on the airiest building, situated between two yards planted with trees.
Claire maintained her frown without much effort. “Will they let us in?” she asked, chin pointing at the entrance.
Her gaze focused on the stocky men who guarded the entrance at Rue du Roi de Sicile and she searched her mind for the most effective arguments that might grant them entrance to the prison.
It took more than half an hour of waiting, followed by a quarter of an hour of being blatantly ignored but, finally, Claire and Murtagh were challenged into bringing forth their skill in eloquent persuasion.
A tall, lean man had joined the other two. None of them was polite, neither they smiled. They looked at Claire and Murtagh with suspicion, but at last, they granted them thirty minutes to see Jamie.
It was a strange mix of satisfaction and dread that filled Claire’s chest as she followed the wiry man into the prison. Murtagh's wishful thinking regarding his godson’s prison cell remained an unrealised hope -- Jamie was held in one of the buildings stuck at the back, far from the entrance. When they left the main path lined with trees behind, a shiver ran down Claire's spine with the impossibility of getting Jamie out.
There was no warmth inside the building where the guard led them, the stones indifferent and unforgiving around them. They climbed up the dark, damp stairs following the trembling light of the lantern, the sounds of their steps mingling with murmurs from cells they couldn’t see. Men and women, guilty and innocent alike. They walked down a corridor and then another until Claire started to think that it might be a trap and for the sake of the Revolution visitors would become prisoners in the blink of an eye.
"His name?" the man asked when he suddenly came to a stop and Claire felt Murtagh halt at a hair's breadth behind her back.
Claire looked up at the guard, aghast for a moment before she realised that the name that meant everything to her was so insignificant to him that he'd already forgotten it.
"Fraser," she replied, voice slightly shaking. "James Fraser."
He turned his face to a heavy door with a narrow barred window at its centre and shouted the name loud and clear, in a voice as authoritative as demanding. The sound bounced off the walls and filled the dirty corridor, thick and heavy. Claire wiggled her fingers and clenched them against her palm as though she could grab the name that reverberated around her and protect it from getting lost in thin air.
Maybe if she started with the name, she’d save the person too.
She had no plan to follow, no strategy carefully thought. From the moment Murtagh had found her at St Antoine her need to see Jamie, to touch him and feel his pulse throbbing under her fingers overwhelmed her. She needed to make sure he was alive. Now that this was about to happen, with her heart loud enough to echo in the corridor, an uneasy feeling turned and twisted in her stomach. She had to get Jamie out and fast.
But how?
Jamie must have heard his name because a moment later he was behind the door with an impassive mask fixed on his face. He looked ragged, but his eyes glinted for a tiny moment when he saw Claire outside his cell. It lasted only an instant; the only reason Claire hadn’t missed it was because her eyes were fixed on him, paying attention to every little change on his face. She expected Jamie to smile at her next but saw his eyes narrow instead, and a pinch twisted the skin between his eyebrows.
“Are ye out of yer mind, Sassenach?” he hissed, grabbing the iron bars that kept them apart. “What are ye doing here?”
“Hello to you, too,” Claire deadpanned but a second later she had gone to him, covering his hands with hers. His face softened with her touch, and he shook his head. “The question is,” she said, now trying for a smile, “What are you doing here?”
Jamie sighed.
“You have fifteen minutes,” the guard announced and stepped back.
“Tou said thirty,” Claire objected, Murtagh grunting behind her.
“Fifteen minutes,” the man repeated before he turned his back to them.
“Won’t you at least open the door?” Claire asked again, bewildered.
“No.” The merciless guard moved to sit on a chair a few feet away, left outside the cell next to Jamie’s.
“You shouldna have brought her here, man,” Jamie whispered angrily, now glaring at his godfather. “And she not even covering her face, her hair. They’ll know her everywhere now.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Claire interjected. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You shouldn’t be here.” She lowered her voice to what might be mistaken for a lover’s whisper. “We need to get you out, Jamie.”
Jamie shook his head. “There’s nothing to be done, Claire.” His gaze was unfocused, lost. “I… I’m sorry, Sassenach. This is all my fault. I was careless and distracted and…” His words turned into an empty breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that,” Claire pleaded and squeezed his hands on the bars.
“We’re getting ye out o’ here, lad,” Murtagh said as though stating a fact.
Jamie’s eyes left Claire’s for a moment to find his scowling godfather. “Ye ken that’s no’ an option, man.”
“Jamie, don’t give up,” Claire entreated again. Then in a more stable, and forceful voice, she added, “Don’t you dare give up on me.”
“I never meant to leave ye, mo chridhe.”
“Then don’t.”
“I canna see as I have much choice. The execution will be public, in two days time.”
“Two days?” Claire mumbled. Despair had the tangy and bitter taste of blood in her mouth.
“I’m a traitor now. I raised suspicions when I defied them during the attack at Comte’s manor. Not a proper Jacques, I wasn’t. They followed me after that, saw me at the wineshop and with Annalise… They think I am a spy, a merchant who pretends to be one of them to pass on information about the attacks to the noblemen and help them escape. They think I’m behind the Comte’s disappearance.” Jamie’s voice was quiet, that of a sentenced man accepting his fate.
“But you’re not. If we make them see the truth, if we convince them that you were always fighting on their side --”
“Convince whom, Claire? Which court? Which jury? And who will talk for me? My uncle canna go in public and claim that his nephew was spying for the rebels. Murtagh, they won’t believe. And you, mo ghraidh, you had money once, moved in the same circles as the nobility. I’ll not risk yer safety for a lost cause.”
Claire was shaking her head vehemently. Jamie passed his hand between the bars of the window, reaching for her face. He hesitated for a moment, but the next his calloused hand was soft on her skin.
“And even if ye tried, Sassenach, ye wouldna change anything. Only the men I talked to could help, the ones that got my information all these past months. And neither of them will be willing to risk their neck to help a man they think might be a turncoat twice over. They’ve seen me with Annalise, and they ken I didna kill anyone in the attacks.”
A silence fell between them, heavy as iron manacles and prison bars. Jamie traced her cheekbones with a finger, then ran his hand through her curls.
“Promise me ye’ll not try to save me. Promise me.”
She didn’t speak.
“Claire,” he tried again. His eyes were almost black in the dim light and he fixed them on hers, as though his gaze could burn conviction into her. “I ask that of ye, as a favour. If I mean something to ye, a shade of what ye mean to me, please dinna risk yerself doing anything foolish. Dinna try to change their minds. Stay safe, at St Antoine. Say ye came here because yer father knew mine back in England if anyone asks.” He seemed not to be convinced by the way she was looking at him. “I ken ye’re stubborn as an ox,” she paused and smiled, brushing away the tears that rolled down her cheeks uninhibited. “But some things we canna change no matter how much we wish them different. I wish we had more time, Claire, but the little time we had will be the last thing I’ll think of before leaving this place. And I need to know that ye won’t be in danger. Stay safe for me, aye?”
She didn’t speak. There were no words she could find to reply to this appeal. No solace to offer, no way to challenge his sensible arguments. But she couldn’t promise what he asked, either.
Jamie leaned forward and cupped her head to bring her to him. Her cheeks touched the cold, filthy iron bars and she winced at the feeling, but a moment later his mouth was on hers, warm, tender, passionate, and alive, so alive that she couldn’t fathom ever kissing these lips cold and lifeless.
When Jamie pulled away, tears were running free on his cheeks, too. “Last time I kissed ye, Sassenach,” he whispered, “I promised to tell ye what ‘tha gaol agam ort’ means. It means ‘I love ye’, and I do love ye, Claire, wi’ all my heart.”
“I love you too,” she mumbled between silent sobs.
Jamie kissed her again, first on her mouth, then on her forehead. “Remember that. Always remember that, Claire. I will never stop loving ye. Alive or dead, my soul is yers.”
She felt like choking.
“Will ye give me one moment wi’ Murtagh, mo ghraidh?”
With a last kiss, one that couldn’t possibly be the last, Claire stepped back. Murtagh and Jamie spoke so softly she couldn’t make out the words they were saying but she kept staring at the way Jamie’s wide lips moved, the way his slanted eyes focused on his godfather, the way the auburn locks of his hair fell on the high, flat forehead. The way his hands clenched the iron bars.
The guard sat up from his chair and dragged it on the floor. “Time’s up,” he said, moving to stand in front of Jamie’s door. Murtagh stepped back, nodding twice at Jamie’s words. Claire wanted to go to him again, but the guard blocked the way, ordering Jamie to go back into the darkness of the cell. With a last glance at her, full of so much love that it forced all the air from her lungs, he was gone.
She stood still, looking at the door and trying to remember how to breathe. Murtagh’s arm came around her shoulders, pushing her forward, and she wondered how she could still walk, how she could go down the stairs now that she had seen Jamie, now that she knew what the future held for them.
Hope, precious shining hope, had no place in that building. So, prompted by Murtagh, she followed the lantern’s artificial light until she was out under the sun again. The sun that didn't reach the recesses of Jamie’s cell, and he couldn’t feel against his face. The sun that made his auburn hair bright red, the sun that promised a future that would never come.
Chapter 18
#we'll rise up#french revolution AU#jamie x claire#18th Century#historical fanfiction#outlander fanfiction#outlander fanfic
50 notes
·
View notes
Link
Artist: Thanasis Totsikas
Venue: Akwa Ibom, Athens
Exhibition Title: The Crucifixion of Thanasis Totsikas
Date: June 15, 2020 – July 10, 2020 and September 10, 2020 – October 10, 2020
Curated By: Maya Tounta
Click here to view slideshow
Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.
Images:
Images courtesy of Akwa Ibom, Athens
Press Release:
In 1985 Thanasis painted a depiction of life’s ladder and titled it The stairway of life. In 1988 he made a sculpture in metal with the same title. I found these in the digital archive of his work a few days ago and called him up to ask about them, but he appeared pretty unenthusiastic, so I let it go. This morning as I sat down to write this text – I had a whole outline for it – it wouldn’t come out. I went back to looking at the 80s ladders. We haven’t reproduced them for you here, but just imagine, these are full of dynamism, strength and forward hope. Now it is more than two decades later, and Thanasis has repainted the ladders in a series of drawings he’s now charged with a very different emotion. In the recent works, a Sisyphus-like figure appears carrying a boulder, bent-over, tired, as if about to collapse on the floor. Thanasis has replaced hope with exhaustion, strength and dynamism with unelected perseverance. The transition leaves one with that feeling of never knowing if you’re well or not, though admittedly you remember, at some point, knowing.
Coming to this thought, I remembered something else I came across in the digital archive – a scan of the backside of a postcard on which Thanasis had scribbled something. I couldn’t totally make out what it said so I sent it to him on Messenger, and he wrote back:
“This is what I’ve written”, he said. “I slowly forget all about life’s ladder…we have sour cherry juice here…it seems like my taste comes from my mother’s side of the family”. “This postcard is from a drawing. I must have forgotten about it. I used to send things like that to the house. Sometimes I’d write in the back. This one reminds me of a (Yannoulis) Chalepas drawing.”
If Thanasis hadn’t painted his Crucifixion, I’d never see those images. I kept thinking about that. That they’re real – autobiographical, as he says, but not necessary. There’s an enormity of feeling that comes with that simple realisation, and it’s hard to know how to speak about it when it concerns another person, someone you don’t know, except for a few conversations and the work of course. The work is the testimony. Then there’s the realisation that you’ll never fully access what lies behind it.
In the exhibition, we are showing 200 or so drawings Thanasis has made in the last couple of years. Most of them depict his Crucifixion, he raised on the cross, being taken down and placed in his mother’s arms. I find it hard to look at them. It’s not so much the violence and the suffering that I find difficult but the sheer quantity of them—the relentless repetition of the pain he gave time to sediment. I also fear people might look past these drawings and pass judgment on Thanasis personally for the amount of suffering to which, he has laid claim. I have a feeling Thanasis might have crucified himself to fulfil an advance sentence he’d come to expect from the outside.
In these last few weeks of self-isolation, I looked at the histories of the Crucifixion as Christian Passion, Roman punishment and subject in art and certain things resonated with the work.
The punishment of the Crucifixion Romans would mainly impose on deserters, murderers, traitors and criminals of humble origin. Depending on their social status, Romans used to place convicts at different heights on the pillar of the cross. The higher their situation, the higher they hung. That was both symbolic like in their annual dog crucifying ceremonies, and practical. A way to ensure that different bodies would end up in the stomachs of different animals. It was typical for bodies not taken down quickly to end up as food for vultures while dogs and other wild animals would feed on the legs of those that hung closer to the ground. Also, death by Crucifixion was often slow and rarely solitary. There are accounts of people speaking to each other on the cross for hours, laughing, spitting at spectators, even singing songs in protest. I can see this irreverence in Thanasis’ drawings as well. When I asked him about why he’s painted his Crucifixion, Thanasis said he had turned aggression he once felt for others inwardly towards himself. In an older interview with Kostas Bitopoulos about an exhibition at Epikentro Gallery in Patra, Thanasis had said then: “I didn’t do it to exalt it. I did it so I could rid myself from it.”
In Christianity, the cross is a handle that God’s frail and light body uses to lift the world. According to the philosopher, mystic and political activist Simone Weil, the cross – one’s personal cross, is a needle that pierces the quivering soul that is like scales out of balance to give it stability. The act of piercing, the suffering, the cross, is what allows each of us individually to realise that we are not the centre of the world. It is the breakdown of our sense of self-importance, of our ego, through the painful but necessary realisation that we’re bound to a force of gravity matched only by grace. For Weil, the original question that supposedly remained unanswered – “Why have you forsaken me?” – was responded in silence. For others, it’s never received a response. Thinking about the Armenian women that were nailed alive upon the cross, the words of Scottish painter Craigie Aitchison come to mind. Aitchison, who must have painted thousands of crucifixion scenes during his life, and who never professed to be particularly religious either, when asked about his enduring interest in the subject had said that he considered: “the Crucifixion the most horrific story he’d ever heard and little more; the ganging up against one person; as long as the world exists one should attempt to recall it.” Aitchison was by all accounts, a charming man who lived his life among animals he loved dearly. For some time, he had canaries living in his studio. They’d made their nest inside an old mattress. Once, the police caught him driving with his Bedlington terrier on his shoulder.
Thinking about a sequence of crucifixions across art history almost exclusively painted by men, I realised that seeing myself as a woman I’d never identified with the figure of Christ. I wondered if other female or female-identifying artists had been able to look past such markers of difference in identity and create representations of him in their way.
The first work that came to my mind was a photograph by American photographer Francesca Woodman, Untitled in which Woodman places the Crucifixion inside her home picturing herself as Christ hanging above the door. As Deborah Garcia says about this work, this unusual depiction of the Crucifixion which has a mise-en-scene quality is characterised by a mundane hierophany that is seldom found in common depictions of the Passion. In the 1977 self-portrait On Being an Angel #1, Woodman has placed the camera above her head producing a distorted image where her lower body disappears. The unusual angle Woodman has used to picture herself in this work reminded me of another depiction of the Crucifixion by artist Salvador Dali, Christ of St John of the Cross, 1951. To create this image, Dali employed Hollywood stuntman Russell Saunders to pose for him suspended from an overhead gantry so that he could study the effect of gravity on his body. Woodman’s photograph reminded me of Dali’s painting because of how they both position the viewer in space but seeing both works alongside each other made me aware of a fundamental difference between them. In January of 1981 Woodman’s body was found in a New York morgue as that of an unidentified young woman. According to witnesses, she had fallen off a building that same morning, and the fall had disfigured her face. Woodman struggled with depression for years. That struggle is visible in her photographs permeated by a thick atmosphere of melancholy, albeit her use of motifs and interpretation of symbols such as that of the Crucifixion is singular like pain is singular and at the same time novel. That embodied experience with the affective reach that it has is not present in Dali’s work which is characterised by a formal intention – a stylistic, distanced contouring of the subject.
Woodman’s intimate and embodied approach to showing suffering brings to mind not only the words of Aitchison and Weil who suffered from migraines that kept her in bed for days and who had written about this experience as a basis for her philosophy – but also Ana Mendieta’ work. Mendieta created a series of works in response to the rape and murder of Sara Ann Otten in 1973. In one performance she covered herself in blood recreating the victim’s poses as they were described in newspaper articles. Mendieta has said that all her works are in some sense a personal response to issues she cannot see herself responding to theoretically. Mendieta used blood like it is used in rituals of the Afro-Cuban religion of Santeria but did not subscribe to one religion. In her notebook from 1980, she stated: “my art is grounded in the belief of one universal energy which runs through everything: from insect to man, from man to spectre, from spectre to plant from plant to galaxy. My works are the irrigation veins of this universal fluid. Through them ascend the ancestral sap, the original beliefs, the primordial accumulations, the unconscious thoughts that animate the world”.
Text by Maya Tounta
Thanasis Totsikas (born 1951) lives and works in Nikaia, Larissa. He is a skilled luthier, cutler and autobody-repair technician. This expertness has shaped his artistic practice and has been present in his work since his first solo presentation at Desmos Gallery in 1982. His prolific career has included participations at the Venice Biennale and Documenta. His artworks, expressive of a way of life more than the outcome of vocation, often incorporate objects and materials from his every day as diverse as mud and reeds and a Ducati motorcycle.
Link: Thanasis Totsikas at Akwa Ibom
The post Thanasis Totsikas at Akwa Ibom first appeared on Contemporary Art Daily.
from Contemporary Art Daily https://bit.ly/3jdiKcI
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Supernatural - Sign He Loves You Part 2
Authors Note: So I guess I shouldn’t have really left it on a cliff-hanger and when you fall asleep at night thinking you were happy with the outcome and then you shoot up awake and be like I have an IDEA! Yeah that was me at 4am - countless times. So here is part 2. For those who haven’t read it or need a refresher. And as always thank you for all your support its amazing <3
THE ROAD SO FAR…“She was stupid Sammy! Just plain stupid trying to protect us both and now she paid the price” I love you. “It’ll be a shock for her” I love you too. “Everything will be fine I promise” Son of a bitch. “Hello Fawn I’ve come to make you a deal.”
“Hello Fawn I’ve come to make you a deal” Crowley said to where you was met with a smug look on his face. Swallowing you took a slight step back wondering why the King of Hell was here and how he got in without setting of the alarm.
“Fawn relax, no need to worry your pretty little head but I did happen to hear about your unfortunate turn of events” He added.
“The pun intended Crowley?” You asked crossing your arms.
“Exactly” He replied.
“Wait? W...what’s happening?” You muttered to yourself, bringing your arms around to protect yourself.
“A taste of what’s to come if you agree to my terms.”
Standing now in silence, you calmed your breathing. Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear you composed yourself. Breathing steadily.
“Out with them then, your terms explain away” You said to the demon.
“It’s quite simple really” Crowley started as he pulled out a bit of folded paper from his pocket.
“Kill the name that’s on the list and your hearing will be as crystal clear as a babies bottom is smooth.” He finishes buttoning his jacket back up. Taking the piece of paper from him you opened it to see the name.
“Along with giving me your soul.” He muttered under his breath.
“Why the hell is my brothers name written on this?” You asked bitterly getting more angry as the seconds carried past.
“My, my Fawn you sure share you temper with squirrel. But your brother is no more, dead, deceased… capiche? Its just a unruly demon floating around in that meat-suit of his. Unruly demons are bad for business.” Crowley replied to you interrupting your rant.
“I may not be deaf at his moment Crowley but I heard you also wanted my soul, so what’s the price tag on that then?” You asked.
“10 years, just like everybody else” He replied.
“No way” You shot back shaking your head.
“Come now Fawn, I’m being generous that’s more then your life expectancy as a hunter” Crowley countered.
“I don’t see Castiel floating down here to help you, I happen to be your next best bet.” He added. You started to pace a little.
“Crowley that is where your very wrong, Sam and Dean their helping me adjust so we can work and live as a family. I can still hunt, I can still do research whether that be from in here or on the road.” You replied running a hand through your hair.
“You really expect to think squirrel is going to let you on the road after this?” Crowley replied to you.
“Leave Crowley” You pleaded.
“Think on my offer Fawn, I trust you want to find your brother or what’s left of him” He said, clicking his fingers disappearing. Taking your momentarily returned hearing with him.
Now you had returned to hearing nothing but silence your eyes had started to well up and a few stray tears rolled down your face, sniffling you wiped them with the cuff of ‘your’ shirt and padded back to bed. Your mind was running around a hundred times a moment and you thought what you had told Crowley was a pack of lies, deep down you knew that your life on the road as a hunter would come to a stop. You felt weak and a burden...
Entering your room you noticed that Dean was basically still in the same position as to when you left, moving the covers you got back into bed and cuddled up to him taking in his warmth seeking the comfort you had desperately craved, he stirred a little moving his arm to bring you closer to him, planting a kiss on the top of your head and then fell back into his deep slumber. Sighing you closed your eyes and tried to get a few more hours shut eye.
But your plan to get some so more sleep drastically failed, your conversation with the King of Hell just kept playing over and over in your head and if it wasn’t for the fact tossing and turning probably would have woken up Dean, you opted for staring at the ceiling it was boring and unbearable and my god were you exhausted but you could just not seem to settle.
Surprisingly exhaustion came and you finally had been able to drop back off to sleep, you were that tired that you hadn’t felt Dean get out of bed.
You stirred once more feeling a cold empty patch beside you, fluttering your eyes open you looked at the digital clock on the bedside table seeing that the time was 10:38am, you still felt rather groggy and opted for a cup of two of coffee knowing that caffeine would be your best friend in this situation like it had done many times in the past. With a few splashes of water and a change of clean clothes you headed towards the kitchen, you had wondered where the boys were walking towards the library popping your head in the entrance to see the large room empty with just a simple note left on the table.
GONE TO GET PIE – D X
You had let out a small chuckle and seeing Dean’s note brought a smile to your lips, you also happened to notice Sam’s laptop was also left on the desk surrounded by some papers and files. At first you wanted to abandon your current quest for a caffeine fix but went against the idea knowing that you would happen to regret it later in the day, so picking up the laptop and heading to the kitchen like you had set out to do, getting what you needed to put on another pot of coffee. While it was doing its magic you opened the lid on the laptop and brought up Sam’s program for getting into the police database. Entering your brothers name you had found numinous reports and within a matter of moments with some quick skimming your whole world was turned upside down. Growing up your brother was a good kid never got into trouble at school got good grades and then went into the army when he was 18. But the person you were reading about didn’t fit your brothers personality one bit and it frightened you. Article after article you found that your brother had been dishonourably discharged from the army and fell into the wrong crowd. According to the reports your little brother was the leader of the gang he had joined...
The demon was going to pay…
Getting a clean cup you poured yourself a generous amount of the black liquid while propped up against the counter you continued to find a paper trail looking for any traces of your so called brother, the files you had dug up were taking you across not just states but the country. He had hit big cities like New York and Jacksonville to even bother with smaller towns such as Beacon Falls and Cloverdale and it confused you, you couldn’t find a connection but you knew you had to keep on digging to try and get one step ahead so you could capture your brother and exercise it, hoping that Crowley was wrong that somehow your brother was alive and just stuck in a nightmare.
Sipping on your coffee your typing must of brought in some attention because Sam and Dean entered the kitchen. Letting out a smile to the brothers. “Find something?” Sam asked you slowly. You nodded your head. The boys came over to you as your brought up the window with your research. Taking a breath hoping you wouldn’t shout, you tried to explain what had happened in the night.
“C...Crowley came to me in the night” You started.
“A demon is possessing m...my brother” You finished letting your head down in defeat.
Immediately you felt the warm arms surround your body and head tucked underneath Dean’s chin. Sam span the computer around to him and did some more digging, while Dean used one hand to fish his mobile from his pocket.
In a matter of moment Crowley appeared before the three of us, seeing a click of fingers you felt that same sensation as one of your senses returned.
“Moose, Squirrel, Fawn. How are we today?” Crowley asked in a patronising tone.
“I see that I perked your interest Fawn, did you enjoy story time about your brother?” The demon asked adding to his opening line.
“Where is he?” You seethed, your body tensed and started to shake slightly with anger.
“You have the power to return Y/N hearing, do it and whatever you want doing we’ll do it.” Dean stated looking at Crowley head on.
“That’s not the deal is it Y/N? Find him first, hearing second.” Crowley replied.
“We never agreed on the terms so there is no deal between us Crowley. I will find the demon and remove it from my brother. But I will not just hand over my soul to you in exchange for my hearing!” You shouted.
“I’ll find the demon and you will owe me. I don’t want any help from you, I can do this. Me. Not Sam. Not Dean. Me.” You added storming out of the kitchen and headed for your bedroom.
As soon as you left the proximity you felt calmer but also back to hearing the darkness. Rushing around you picked up your duffel bag and started to throw in some clothes, lore books you kept in the cabinet of your bedside table along with your gun and blade. Zipping bag up you hurried out of the door and collided with the chest of Sam. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gave you a reassuring smile he took your bag from you and guided you back to the kitchen still seeing Crowley and Dean. You saw Crowley click his fingers together once more.
“We’ll find the demon. Just give Y/N her hearing back.” Dean said.
#supernatural#moose#spn fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#moose and squirrel#crowley#fanfiction#sam winchester
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
I just played ep 3 and you wanna know what things fucking ripped my heart out and fucking stomped on it and tried to shove it back in with scotch tape and glitter glue? SPOILERS, DUH.
*Also this might be the most in-depth and analytical thing I've done so... it's long.
A) When Louis picks up Minnie's crossbow and fucking accidentally shoots that woman and he's like "i..I didn't mean...fuck" or something like that. That fucking voice acting shredded me and I will never be over that. Louis, Louis of all people, the lighthearted jokester that just wants everyone to be happy was forced to shoot a woman in the skull! In one of the most grisly deaths in the season at that! Skybound can throw hands with me for that one. Also when Clem goes to get Aj Louis, even as broken and torn as he is at this point, he still tries to come with her. The best boy honestly.
B) Look, I know Lilly is the villian of this season. I'm fully aware of this. But she obviously still kinda cares about Clementine, as in ep 2 she said, and I quote "this SHOULD be easy." But it's not. It's not easy to shoot clem. But then she just fucking takes Aj? And then tries to strangle Clem on the side of the boat? And then when I mercied her and tried to let her live, she just???fucking kills James??? Like, I already didn't like James (I'm sorry James stans) but he didn't deserve that. And then the bomb goes off and we don't even get to Aj in time??? Like, 👊👊👊 throw hands.
C) When Aj talks about Clem getting bit and how he'd want her to bite him. Like, fucking James just had to say something. This boy is 6, maybe 7 at the absolute latest. He's impressionable, he learns from what he hears. You can't just tell him that walkers are still kinda human. If they had any shred of humanity left, they would not kill people. Especially those close to them, like Lee's brother tried to kill Lee when he was under that lamppost. Just fucking stop I'm crying.
D) LOUIS' STORY. If you did the Violet path and didn't hear Louis', basically he was rich. Like, filthy rich. But the only thing his dad wouldn't buy him was singing lessons. Louis got so mad at what his dad said to him, "You can either be happy or you can be rich," that he wanted to teach his dad a lesson. He started buying things on his dad's credit card that eluded to his dad having an affair (jewelry, hotel rooms, etc.) And when this worked, his parents got the divorce, he came clean. He told his dad "You can either be rich or you can be happy." A week later he was at the school. And just fucking??? How much his character has grown in the 8-9 apocalypse years??I'm so proud of him. Sure, younger Louis was a little shit, but he knows how fucked up what he did was. If you watch the scene, it's so....heartbreaking. like it's his biggest regret, even with all the Marlon shit thrown in. I love Violet with my whole heart, but I fucking love Louis' storyline.
E) VIOLET WHAT THE FUCK??? As I stated before, I love Violet. She's my favorite gay/gal in the whole apocalypse. But what the fuck? Like, you...I get it. I saved Louis instead of you, but wait a fucking minute I made it blatantly obvious that I love Louis (my son) and when you see me in the prison cell you're like "fuck you I'm staying here with my psychotic gf." Like??? I think the writers made a huge character mistake with that because there's no way Violet would have actually done that to me. Also especially after Minnie admits to killing Sophie, which I'll touch on later. Like, her character would NOT do that. Idgaf if she still loved Minnie or not, she'd be fucking pissed.
F) We have to talk about Minnie. Just....ugh. Props to telltale/skybound because holy fuck. That got me. That got me good. She just??? Is completely brainwashed by the delta and lilly? She killed her own sister, and despite me telling her what Tenn told me to she still locked me in the cell? Also she doesn't say one loving thing to Violet, who literally is willing to get herself blown up just to be with her. And when that woman tells her her family is the delta and to forget about Tenn she just fucking accepts it? Like??? Fuck off bitch?
G) Louis' date was the cutest shit
H) I'm sorry but at the party that first bio sounded a fuck ton like Marlon and Idc what anyone else says you cannot convince me that my love Ruby ever did such things.
I) I hate that the story is so compelling that, even after all she's fucking done, I still care about Lilly. I call this "the Kenny effect." We have history, and that matters a lot to me. Even if I don't agree with her ever, I still don't want her to die. (Like with the Kenny/Arvo thing) I see her as family, which is why in s1 I let her stay after she shot carley and in ep 2 of this season I told her we were family. I do care about Lilly, and then she just kills James??? Like, ugh. I wish she would just fucking stop and I could hug her and everything would be fine and Lee isn't actually dead and Christa and Molly and Kenny and everyone's alive and AAHHHHH.
J) The scene where Minnie has clem's knife against clem's chest and is pushing down is so fucking similar to the Kenny/Jane situation is s2. Minnie is Jane and Clem is Kenny, this time all of the kids from the school is clem. Both Minnie and Clem want them to be safe, but they have very different ideas on how they'll be safe. Clem wants to protect them at all costs, and Minnie wants to protect them by getting rid of clem. (Like how Jane wanted to get rid of kenny) I'm crying in the club.
K) James fucking making me walk in the barn full of walkers to touch the wind chime. I was literally so anxious during this and I knew that it's a game but just??? That would have been a pointless death.
L) ABEL. NO! Look I don't like this guy as much as the rest of ya'll, but they way he just breaks down??? I refused to torture him, and I put out his cigarette. He begs to be killed because he doesn't want to turn. This is so visceral and raw that I almost cried when my knife went through his head. Then the screen thing told me I tortured him in front of Aj?? Hello? When did I do that??? I gave him mercy, I gave him peace.
M) Louis toasting to the fact that he thinks he's gonna die at the boat just fucking destroys me.
N) Rosie is the goodest girl and didn't get enough screen time.
O) Louis helping clem up when she gets pulled under water by a walker is cleansing for my soul
P) Omar and Aasim got like 4 lines between them and that's fucking breaking the law
Q) I literally only found 1 collectible where the fuck where they all???
R) I was legitimately going to not kill any of the walkers when James was getting his mask, but I honest to God kept dying over and over so I literally had to kill one of them.
S) the fact that James kept bringing up how much of a heartless bitch I am for not caring about dead people that are walking and killing the living and everyone I've ever cared about.
T) The sheer genuis of the dialogue option that asks James if he knows the names of the walkers and he's confused and clem is just like "Omar, Aasim...Violet." like, he doesn't know the walkers. They're killing machines that he has no attachment to. Clem's friends are alive, and she cares about them deeply. Like fuck off m8.
U) Aj is so broken and confused and scared I don't know how to fix him he's a murderer but he's trying to atone and I just hope to God Lee would actually be proud of Clem and I just wish he was alive and Clem and Aj and him were a family and he could meet the boarding school kids at then Louis would learn about history, something I hc him as never being good at in school, and Louis teaches him how to play the piano and he teaches Violet how to actually map the stars and she teaches him all the fighting skills she's learned and Lee takes a liking to Tenn and makes sure to thank Omar for cooking and appreciates willy and mitch and what they do and supports and learns medicine from ruby and stops Aj from killing Marlon and talks him through the bad shit and helps him atone for his sins and then he meets Rosie and when he sees Lilly again she stops being a hateful cunt and we kill all the delta people and go back to the school and everyone, including mitch and James and Minerva and Sophie is alive and this is getting way to long aahhhh.
V) When Louis is freaking out about the responsibility of planting the bomb, and it gives you to either slap him or kiss him and that's the fucking cutest shit
W) the fact that it never let's me hug Tenn or Willy, nor have a funeral for Mitch. Like I know we were crunched for time, but it would've taken 10 minutes tops.
X) to my knowledge, Tenn and Menerva never see eachother. Maybe she would have changed if she saw him? I don't know...
Y) I don't have the option to cuddle with Rosie and that's an actual crime.
Z) When the kids are talking about all the people they've lost. 34 people. 34. We've lost a lot, don't get me wrong, but I don't think it's 34. It might be close, but some of those people we weren't close to nor knew for very long. Also the fact that they've lost 34 but only have like 5 graves. Wtf?
*) AND THE BIGGEST THING THAT TORE MY HEART INTO PRICES WAS THE LEE SCENE, AND THE DIALOGUE OPTION OF TELLING LEE HE'S NOT REAL AND HE TELLS CLEM THAT IT'S OKAY TO BE A LITTLE NUTS AND THEN THE HUG AND THE "LOOK AT YOU..." FROM LEE AND AAAHHHH I MISS HIM SO FUCKING MUCH.
*Edit: I'm not saying I love Lilly as much as I do Kenny, I could never like her that much, even if she had a change of heart and died protecting clem or Aj. I'm saying "the Kenny effect" because he was being an asshole, however you try to defend him. He wasn't in the right, and harmed an innocent kid (Arvo) just like Lilly does. Cool? Cool.
#twdg#clementine#louis twdg#violet#violentine#clouis#louisentine#aj#twdg aj#aj twdg#twdg louis#lee everett#clementine everett#shut up thats cannonically her last name#omar#aasim#tenn#like i love violetine too but i like clouis more#violetine#minerva#sophie and minnie#crying in the club#willy#mitch#marlon#rosie#brody#brody needs more love honestly
355 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stay Ch. 10
Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin
Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)
Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.
Warnings: Physical violence, light smut, feels
A/N: I love that Only For A Moment and Stay both reached big milestones (for me anyway) this weekend. I really thought I wouldn’t have chapter 10 ready but then it just kind of spilled out of me in one painful rush (thanks, music).
Thank you so much for loving my girls like you do! Things are about to get... interesting for them. Don’t hate me.
This is another longer chapter (at least in comparison to how I’ve been structuring this and OFAM) but I hope y’all like it!
Tags are open!
@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight @jeromethepsycho @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito
- Post Snap -
You must look like a fool. Sitting alone in a hotel bar, at the end of the fucking world, smiling from ear to ear. That or you look like you’re about to snap.
Laughing a little at yourself you slam back what’s left of your drink and decide to head up to your room. As much as you don’t want to leave the bar, want to hover here until you see her walk through those doors, your body demands sleep.
It had taken you almost two whole days to get to Vienna after the… whatever the fuck that was. Planes were grounded, roadways littered with cars filled with nothing but ghosts. Chaos growing with every passing hour.
Most civilians didn’t ever truly realize just how razor thin the line between order and anarchy was at any given moment. They put faith in their institutions to hold society together without knowing that their institutions were made of nothing but poorly kept secrets and dust. Now they’d know since it felt like half the fucking planet had dissolved into just that… dust.
Regardless, that long journey left little room for sleep. Add to that the ridiculous amount of liquor you’d consumed in the last 20ish hours… you were spent.
Once in your room, you practically face plant on the lush bed. Darkness consuming you immediately. Hoping that you dream of her.
You do…
A few hours later you wake up drenched in sweat. Immediately you bolt for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before your stomach contracts, filled with nothing but fucking bourbon… it’s about as unpleasant as throwing up can be.
“Fuck,” you groan, leaning against the wall clutching your abdomen.
Why that memory? Of all the things for your brain to pull out of the archives, it had to be her… covered in blood.
You think back to what it was like at the beginning. After Prague.
For two people who made their living in the world's underbelly, you couldn’t help but feel you didn’t deserve just how good the past year had been. Together you had seen the world, worked some jobs and lived as much like two normal people in love as you could.
Like any couple, you formed your routines. Wherever you were the first person up would make the coffee so the other would awake to sleepy kisses and the sweet smell of caffeine. Usually followed by a long shower together. She would always order you a Makers if she made it to the restaurant or bar before you and you’d order a Stoli or Grey Goose martini if you did. Natasha actually liked doing laundry so she would do the both of yours and you would handle folding and hanging (not that either of you carried much). Between jobs you’d train to keep one another sharp, you were even good enough to beat her more than once.
Movie nights were frequent. Just the two of you curled up in whatever hotel you found yourselves at with a few rentals and take out. Sometimes you’d kill days doing that. Other times you’d land in a city and never check in anywhere, just squat in one place or another exploring until you got bored.
It wasn’t all pure domestic bliss though.
Her dreams could be soul crushing. You’d awake to her cries a few times a month. Sometimes she’d want to fuck the memory away and you’d happily oblige. Others she would just want to curl into your arms, you’d hold her, stroking her hair, and kissing her tenderly until the tremors stopped. She never had to talk about the dream unless she wanted… most times you saw or at the very least felt them. They’d haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just the images themselves but because you couldn’t go back in time to save her from them…
More than once, mainly at the beginning, you had disagreements about jobs. You took one for a prominent South Asian crime syndicate she deemed too risky. The two of you argued for days about it. Finally, she conceded and while it was close, it all worked out. A few hits she took you thought were more than a little tasteless but ultimately you both decided to let the other do what she did best and generally stay out of it. Leave work at work.
That worked until she was given an order to take on a job with a fellow Red Room alum.
- December 2005 -
“Natasha… I don’t fucking like this,” you could have held your tongue about anything else but this.
“It’s not a discussion, baby. Remember? We have a rule-”
“Yeah. We do. But… kids.”
“There won’t be any children there. They’ve been moved to a new facility-“
“That’s not it,” you hand her one of her knives, “Children are involved. If the KGB wants the research they’ve been doing-”
“Y/N, I-”
“You know it can’t be good, Nat,” your voice is rising. “We were both kids once, used and-“
Her eyes shoot daggers at you, “Do you really think that didn’t cross my mind? I’m not happy about this. But if I refuse I’m putting a target on both our backs. I won’t.”
You sneer, “I don’t want any part of your justification for this one, Natasha.”
It didn’t matter that the hospital would be empty. You read the briefing. The two women were to slip into a donor event celebrating the new hospital’s opening. Snag the two lead doctors, bring them back to the old facility, get all the research that was still being stored there, destroy the evidence. No witnesses. No survivors.
Her arms wrap around you from behind, a soft kiss just under your ear. “Please tell me you don’t think I would do anything to harm a kid… I can’t-“
You turn in her arms to face her, “I know you wouldn’t honey. I know. But… if they’re performing research on… children. Fuck. I just, I don’t know.” Your foreheads rest together.
“I look at it like taking from the wolves. The men in charge of whatever they’re doing are going to die tonight and-”
“It can’t be taking from the wolves if you’re handing the knowledge to a different pack.”
The look on her face is pained. “I’m sorry,” she releases you going to the closet to pull out her gown for the evening and you plop onto the edge of the bed. She sighs heavily, “Look if there’s anything too bad I will make sure the KGB doesn’t get their hands on it. I’ll bring the other agent to you and…”
Your eyebrows cock-up, “Don’t you think her winding up dead will be more than a little suspicious?”
“I didn’t say dead. Head injuries are tricky things,” she smirks and winks.
“You’re diabolical,” your smirk matching her own.
She saunters over to you in nothing but her underwear and holsters and straddles you. Taking your face in her hands she kisses you hard, “You love it.”
Honestly, you did. Your hands slide slowly up her muscular thighs before hooking onto her underwear and you nibble her bottom lip.
She groans, “I don’t have time.” You don’t respond, just slide your fingers into the front of the lacy garment. Her head falls back as she grinds against them.
“You sure,” you whisper into the hollow of her collarbones. She shivers, “Can’t stay a few more minutes?”
“I can’t be late,” she says laughing at the look of disappointment on your face. “Tonight.”
“That’s so far away,” you whine playfully as she pulls your hand away and licks her own moisture off your fingers with a wink. A hum of pleasure rumbles in your chest.
“You started this,” she nips at your fingertips. “Deal with it,” she places a quick kiss on your lips before getting up.
“Bitch,” you say with a wink as you fall back on the bed your own hand sliding the zipper of your jeans down.
“Oh hell no!” Natasha pounces on you, pinning your hands by your head. “Don’t you dare.” Her kiss is hungry as her tongue fills your mouth, hot, wet, everything you want. “You had better wait for me,” she whispers into your ear before nibbling at your earlobe.
“Fine,” you sigh out.
As Natasha slips into the sleek black gown your mouth waters. The silhouette perfectly hugs her curves and the plunging neckline is just enough to tease while still remaining tasteful for the event. She catches you taking her in as she slips diamond studs into her ears.
“What do you think?” She asks as you stride over to her, spinning her to place her back against the wall before placing a passionate kiss on her lips.
“I think,” you kiss her once more, “you need to make sure this shit goes fast because if not I may have to crash the party to bring you home.”
“I’ll be sure to inform my colleague of the dire situation.”
“Good,” you kiss her once more. “Be safe.”
“I will.” She pulls away from you and steps into her pumps, grabs her clutch and coat. Tenderly she cups your face in her right hand, “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, honey.”
4am, she should be back by now. You sit on the open window, fully dressed and armed, booted foot anxiously bouncing as you smoke your fifth cigarette in a row. You’ve been arguing with yourself for the better part of the last hour.
She had, of course, told you just where the hospital was. You could make it there on foot in less than a half hour. However, if you showed up and blew the mission she would have your ass and not in the way either of you wanted. Part of you didn’t care and wanted to rush in guns blazing. The other was saying you were being a paranoid idiot. Natasha could handle herself.
Sighing you duck back into the room, deciding the latter is right. Let the woman do her job, Y/N. Don’t be the hovering girlfriend. The thought barely finishes crossing your mind when something in the city blows, just powerful enough for the aftershock to rattle the hotel windows.
You bolt to the window, a few car alarms scream and the sky is red in the direction of the hospital.
“No,” you say into the cold night. Without hesitation you swing out onto the fire ladder and climb down, jumping the last few feet too eager to begin sprinting in that direction.
Even though you’re running as fast as you ever have in your entire life it feels like you’re in quicksand. You stick to the back routes, avoiding any emergency vehicles or dispersing crowds. Heart thundering. You’re practically blind with determination.
When you’re close enough to the scene to not only know it was unquestionably the hospital but to smell the fire someone grabs you. Panic surges you. You spin, unthinking. You sweep the assailant's feet from under her and pin her to the ground. It’s only then that you realize that the person covered in ash and blood is Natasha. Tears clearing a path down her cheeks.
“Honey!?” You gasp jumping off her. She sits up trembling, wheezing. “Oh god,” kneeling next to her you begin to check her over, there was so much blood. “Nat…” your hands come way red and black.
“Not,” she tries to suck in a breath and coughs, “mine,” she barely gets out.
“Ok. Ok, that’s good.” You can see the lights from the sirens and hear people far too close for comfort. “Come on,” you help her to her feet noticing that they’re bare, “let’s get to the hotel.”
“No,” she gasps panic filling her face head shaking frantically.
“What? That may not be your blood but bab-“
“They know,” she coughs, loud and violent, “not… not safe.”
You stare at her for a long minute trying to understand what she means by ‘they.’ “Ok. We can’t stay here though.” Her head shakes in agreement. “Different hotel?” She nods yes.
A handful of blocks in the opposite direction of your hotel there’s a questionable inn. You pay the half drunk attendant in cash and sneak Natasha in a few minutes later. She’s gone quiet, distant, her head lolling to one side as you sit her on the bed.
You turn the shower on, brown water spurts from the head concerningly before finally clearing. Steam quickly fills the stall.
“Honey,” you gently turn her face to yours. She looks at you but her eyes are cloudy. It hits you then that you’re not feeling anything from her. Not one single emotion is rising to your senses. Panic fills your stomach.
You will your voice to be steady, you have to be strong for her. “We need to get you cleaned up. Come on, baby.” Gripping her shoulders you guide her up onto her feet. She doesn’t fight you, moving like a living doll.
By the shower, you unzip the back of the now ruined dress and slide it off. Without prompting she steps free and pulls her underwear off as you unbuckle her holsters. Quickly you strip down too and bring her into the stall.
Placing her in the stream you grab a washcloth and begin to tenderly clean the grime from her. As the soot slips down the drain you see the blooming bruises on her face, her body. A few cuts would need stitching you note as rivulets of red seep from them. That was the least of your concerns right now. Still, she had absolutely no emotion, nothing, just a void where there should be… anything. You had seen and felt shock before, this wasn’t that. At least not how you’d ever known it to manifest.
With her as clean as you could get her here you guide her out. Drying her off and wrapping her in a towel before drying yourself off. Still nude you guide her to the bed again and sit her on the edge. You’re about to go dress when her fingers rise to the thick pink scar on your abdomen, lightly tracing it.
“Honey?” You ask softly, unsure how to read this.
“Why?” Her voice is a rasp.
“You know why,” you tilt her face up. “I knew you were worth it.” There’s a quick searing lash of emotion from her, so intense you almost stagger back. It’s too fast for you to even grasp what it is.
“What if you’re wrong?” There’s still no emotion in her words. Hollow.
“I’m not,” you lean down so your face is level with hers, “I am not wrong, Natasha. You’re worth everything to me.” She doesn’t react just stares blankly at you. Sighing you go and get back into your clothes.
She needed clothes, you needed a way to stitch her up, you needed some of the things in your hotel room. In the dirty bathroom mirror, you see her looking at her hands, static-like emotions coming from her. That was at least somewhat better.
Grasping her hands in yours you keep your voice level, “I’m going to go to the hotel,” you expect a fight but her eyes only search yours, “I’ll be careful. But there’s shit there we can’t leave and I need the med kit to stitch you up.” She nods. “I’ll leave you my gun and a knife,” her weapons were likely buried in the rubble of the hospital.
Pushing a few damp strands of hair from her face, “Will you be ok here? Be honest, Natasha.”
“Go,” her voice low. “Sooner the better. Before they have time to get there.” You want to know who this they are but you figure it’s best saved for later.
“Ok,” you kiss her forehead and slip your boots on. “I’ll be back.”
“Y/N,” you turn to her. “I love you.” There’s a whisper of that familiar intoxicating emotion with that word.
You smile, “I love you too, honey.”
At your hotel you climb back up the fire ladder, sending your sixth sense ahead of you to try to sense anyone in the room. It seems clear so you climb back into the window.
Hastily you stuff your duffel bags with the essentials, some clothing, basic toiletries, weapons, and the med kit. You take one last look around the room, the memory of your earlier flirtation filling you with a strange dread, and head out the door.
The whole trip took maybe an hour. As you walk back through the lobby of the inn you notice the front desk guy isn’t there but think nothing of it. At your door, you softly knock.
“It’s me, honey,” you wait, thinking she’ll open it but there’s nothing. Swallowing the bile rising in your throat you quietly set the bags down and pull your Ka-Bar out before slowly unlocking the door.
Your senses don’t pick up on anyone. There are no lingering ghosts of emotion from a struggle and everything is just as you left it. Methodically you open the closet, look under the bed, but there’s nowhere else for someone to be in this tiny room. She’s just gone.
On the little notepad by the phone, you notice writing that was not there before. One word.
Sorry.
142 notes
·
View notes
Note
1, 6, 7, 8, 9, 13, 17, 23, 32, 34, 49, 50, 56, 63, 71, 87, 99
well goddamn.
1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? i don’t have milk on my cereal. i shovel dry cereal into my mouth like an animal.
6: do you keep plants? i try very hard. right now i just have one, a little tillandsia AKA air plant. here it is:
(i just recently bought it, and it was a bit rough looking. it’s perking up though i think.)
7: do you name your plants? no. maybe i should. i’m terrible at naming things, though. if anyone wants to suggest a name for my plant, though, i’m open to suggestions??? i guess???
8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? i guess i’d have to say writing. i do draw, but for me drawing is more about telling stories. it supplements the writing. i don’t do a lot of just… drawing or painting a standalone piece to express an emotion or an idea. so… writing. poetry, song lyrics, even fiction.
9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? yeah.
13: what’s something that made you smile today? hm… when my stupid fucking cat wanted an orange scone so badly he started just gnawing on the plastic container they were in.
17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? i’ve thought about pink or blue or something. idk. i’m not sure i want to put the effort into maintaining it, though, so eh.
23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? viddy gam
32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. years ago i went to watch a meteor shower, i think it was the aurigids, with my mom and grandma. we met a nice lesbian couple out viewing it as well, and then they left to get breakfast at denny’s. i am not a “go out at night” type of person, except to look at stars sometimes.
34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? i had a loooooot of stuffed animals as a kid, and i still have the most important/loved ones. the childhood stuffed animals i still have: several beanie babies, including the first one i ever got, Pounce; a little cat i think one of my mom’s coworkers made for me when i was born? or something, i’m not sure; and a floral cat that my grandma gave me.
49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? i haven’t bought a CD in a loooooooooong time, honestly.
50: what’s an odd thing you collect? the stickers from botan rice candy packages.
56: what are some things you find endearing in people? kindness, sense of humor, gentleness.
63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? i generally make a weak effort to organize, and then end up just sorta… giving up for a while. and then the cycle continues.
71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? i’m not a fan of tea.
87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? i’m not a big movie buff or anything so like… i was going to say princess mononoke, my favorite ghibli film, but… honestly? everyone should just watch any ghibli film. everyone has “their” ghibli movie, the one that resonates with them the most. so i guess my answer to this is just, find your ghibli movie if you haven’t already. there’s at least one for pretty much everybody.
99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.
i could just put a joke answer here but i love listing music that’s important to me, so i’ll include both answers.
serious answer:
YELLOW - Yoh Kamiyama
SAYONARA HUMAN - PinnocchioP
Heart - group_inou
Blue - group_inou
Dance of Reality - ATOLS
Spiral of Ants - Lemon Demon
Let’s Get This Over With - They Might Be Giants
Good To Be Alive - They Might Be Giants
joke answer:
Buck Bumble Theme 10 Hours
4 notes
·
View notes