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riotwritesthings · 3 months ago

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An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron - M, 3k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, thriller/horror?, canon-typical violence, loss of control, panic attacks

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends-

It can’t be-

But they are.

See what happened was. I thought about this post so hard that it broke my writer's block. I have no plan for this, I'm just following vibes and vague ideas and hoping the muse doesn't abandon me. If you're feeling brave, let's see where we end up!

Happy spooky month, here's my interpretation on soulmates as a horror concept.

---

Chapter 1: we locked eyes

Tony manages to slap his hand over the barrel of the handgun just as it levels with his face.

Barnes pulls the trigger.

The sound of it is deafening, hitting Tony like a physical blow, but the bullet stops abruptly when it hits his gauntlet-covered palm. It still stings like hell, but his face and brain remain intact.

Even as he fits his thumb over the slide lock, preparing to pull the whole thing away from the rest of the gun, Tony feels a smirk tug at his lips. He flicks his gaze up to direct his smug look at the rampaging soldier-

The entire world falls away.

Except that’s not strong enough. The entire world shatters in an explosion of razor-sharp pieces that slice through Tony’s mind, through his entire being.

The large open lobby is still in chaos around him, but all of the noise of shouting and approaching footsteps and even the ringing in his ears is suddenly so far away. Like it’s coming from the end of a tunnel, or the top of a well, and he’s falling.

There’s no ground beneath his feet. There’s no air around him, his lungs are collapsing. His heart lodges somewhere around his throat and he can’t breathe-

Barnes has such blue eyes. Cold and fierce but bright, wide, and Tony is lost.

He can’t tear himself away. Why would he?

There is nothing else.

Just the sparks dancing along his nerves and the pull in his chest and the realigning of the entire fucking universe around him.

Tony can’t tell if his head is spinning or if it’s everything.

Where-

What was he doing here? It was important, he knows that, but everything is gone-

All he knows is-

Barnes blinks and the world snaps back into place.

Except it snaps back wrong.

Like the center of gravity suddenly isn’t where it’s supposed to be. All of the colors are wrong, too bright and too rich. The air tastes electric.

Tony drags in a shuddering breath and he has no idea how much time has passed. A second. A lifetime.

Barnes is blinking rapidly now, like he’s trying to wake up.

At least Tony remembers why he’s here. He remembers all of his goals so clearly.

Stop this mess from becoming any more of an international disaster. Help Steve, if he can. Find out the truth.

He still needs to do all of that, it’s important.

His thumb falls away from the slide lock as Barnes lowers the gun. Barnes doesn’t actually pull out of his hold.

They’re still just staring at each other.

Tony needs to- to figure out what the hell happened here and how to fix it-

They need to-

The sound of footsteps are right behind him now, two sets of them, and he doesn’t think.

He spins on his heel, hand raised, and sends off a repulsor blast.

His blood runs cold as Natasha skids back across the polished floor and collides hard with one of the countless scattered tables. Sharon freezes a couple of feet away, staring at him with wide eyes.

He can’t breathe.

Natasha is still standing but she winces as she steps away from the table at her lower back. She hesitates, clearly confused, eyes darting between Tony and Barnes.

Tony doesn’t have any answers for her, even if he could speak. Why did he do that?

He still can’t fucking breathe.

Sharon lunges forward and Barnes’ hand wraps around the bend of Tony’s elbow, pulling him out of the way. Barnes puts himself between Tony and the attacking agent like a solid wall and it feels-

Tony shoves that incomplete thought away with the same vicious force that Barnes shoves Sharon down through another table.

He still feels so off balance. Like he’s waking up from a life-long dream. He’s relieved when Sharon curls around herself with a groan and doesn’t try to get up.

This isn’t right. Tony is supposed to be helping stop Barnes from breaking out of here, not- not looking for the exits-

Natasha is moving towards them again and Tony needs to help-

He needs to help her, he should- he should grab Barnes again, hold him so Natasha can-

Tony can’t even finish the thought. He’s still frozen in place.

None of this is right.

Barnes catches Natasha’s fists just as easily. Tony is all too familiar with the way Natasha swings herself up around Barnes’ shoulders, ready to strike, and he- he can’t-

He needs to-

They need to-

No, fuck. Tony can’t get it together, he can’t think. Everything is still sideways, it's all too bright.

Natasha brings her elbow down hard onto Barnes’ head, and Tony-

Reality finishes shattering around him.

He finally moves and things start to happen so damn fast. He sends out so many pulses of disorienting energy that the heat of the repulsor starts to burn his palm. Natasha hits the far wall and crumbles, and guilt twists Tony’s gut. He doesn’t stop to think.

Barnes' hand wraps around his arm again and Tony follows. More counter-terror agents approach them as they cross the room. Tony repulsors them. Barres takes care of any that get too close. They keep moving.

They have to get out of here.

It’s not until they’re approaching a staircase that Tony stops and says, “No.”

The helicopter is too exposed, too obvious. But Tony doesn’t need to explain.

Barnes goes tense for just a second. His fingers twitch against Tony’s skin. His eyes are fever-bright as he looks at Tony and nods.

So blue. Tony is still falling.

They turn down a hallway. Tony knows the way to the secret service tunnels. Barnes is following him now, hand still wrapped around Tony’s forearm. The contact feels like touching a live wire and Tony’s heart keeps stuttering in his chest. The strong grip feels like a brand, like a shackle-

Unbreakable-

T 'Challa steps into the hallway, blocking their path. Tony’s hand comes up again without thought, palm out and fingers spread in clear threat. He can’t stop himself.

“Stark,” T’Challa says, his eyebrows furrowed, “why are you doing this?”

Tony opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t have an answer. He can’t say it.

Barnes’ hand tightens on his arm the second T’Challa moves, and the chaos resumes. Tony's body moves faster than he can keep track of, than he wants to keep track of. He doesn’t want to think about what he’s- why he’s-

T‘Challa is clearly aiming to subdue Barnes and Tony can’t- he can’t let that- The repulsed burns his palm again, but the prince is quick. T’Challa’s hand swings at his face and Tony can’t dodge it.

He doesn’t have to.

Barnes is there. He grabs T’Challa’s arm with both hands and an audible snap echoes through the empty hallway.

Tony wants to throw up, he wants to stop. Instead he puts his palm to the side of T’Challa’s head and activates the repulsor.

It embeds the man halfway into the wall where he stills with a groan and Tony wavers on his feet. His hand is going numb and every fiber of him is screaming.

He’s still off balance, he still can’t breathe.

But he grabs Barnes by the wrist and they keep moving. Down the hall and then they’re practically tumbling down the dimly lit stairwell. They make it to the service tunnels. The tunnels lead to a parking garage, but the doors are locked.

Somehow Barnes’ gun found its way into his free hand, and Tony lifts it while Barnes works on the lock. When the doors swing open there’s a guard standing in their way, his hands shaking around his own gun.

Tony pulls the trigger first.

The man crumbles, bleeding, and bile rises in Tony’s throat.

Oh fuck, why can’t he stop?

Barnes pulls him along and Tony doesn’t protest when he picks their getaway car. Barnes smashes in the window and Tony hotwires it as easy as breathing. Tony drives.

Within minutes they’re blending into traffic in a nondescript sedan. When his phone starts to ring Tony passes it over, and Barnes crushes it in his metal hand without instruction.

They keep driving.

---

They don’t stop running for thirteen hours.

The entire time, they don’t speak. They don’t need to.

Tony’s stomach is still rolling.

He doesn’t sleep, even when Barnes takes over driving near the end. He’s too tired to consider questioning the rundown farmhouse that Barnes finds near the northern border of Lithuania.

It’s not like he’s been thinking through a fucking thing since-

Barnes leads the way into the one-room shack, and Tony doesn’t let himself think. He watches Barnes drop stiffly onto the worn couch.

Tony is trying so hard not to think.

Everything is still wrong. He’s exhausted but energy is still buzzing beneath his skin. Electric and terrifying. He can taste static on the air and his heart rate is still- He doesn’t-

"What the fuck?" Tony finally bursts, his voice hoarse, “why- what the fuck just happened?”

Barnes doesn’t look up from staring at his own palms. “You know,” he says heavily, “you’re too smart t’ pretend you don’ know what this is.”

“No,” Tony snaps. He spins on his heel and starts to pace. He doesn’t make it more than three steps towards the door before his head starts to pound, his chest pulling tight. So he paces the other direction, not looking over at Barnes as he repeats, "No, there’s no fucking way."

“You got another explanation?” Barnes demands. His breathing sounds ragged, too-quick.

Tony refuses to look over.

"I don’t- how about a mental breakdown?" Tony replies. His own breathing is shallow and shaky. "Why else would I- unless your Hydra brainworm is fucking contagious-"

"Wh- no," Barnes says around a harsh bark of laughter.

“- Then I don’t- something else must have-”

“No,” Barnes says again, "you know what this is."

Tony whirls on him, glaring, but Barnes is still hunched over himself. They’re both breathing too hard, too fast, Tony can hear the air wheezing in and out of his lungs.

It can’t be-

“You helped a fugitive escape custody,” Barnes says flatly, not looking up from his hands. “I was- you broke my orders with a word. Why else-”

“Shut up,” Tony snaps, "I am not your- we are not soulmates." His voice is too loud is his own ears, ringing oddly. “That’s- this shit doesn’t happen anymore.”

It can’t be-

But they are.

Tony makes a strangled sound as the truth that he’s known all along starts to really sink in. He’s not even trying to breathe anymore.

Barnes mutters something under his breath, too low for Tony to catch. Then he repeats it, over and over as he drops his face into his palms, and eventually Tony can make out the words.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

The wave of guilt that crashes over Tony is unexpected and infuriating.

He doesn’t want an apology, not from Barnes- Not when-

Neither of them chose this, but that’s kind of the fucking point, isn’t it? Tony wants an apology from the goddamn universe, not from the man hyperventilating on the shitty couch.

And the worse Barnes’ breathing gets, fast and too deep until his entire body heaves with it, the more Tony wants to- he doesn’t even know, but he can’t-

He can’t stop himself.

Tony marches across the room, his body once again moving without any input from his brain. Like a puppet on strings. Without the adrenaline of a fight it's even more obvious how completely out of control he is.

All that fucking time and effort trying to take back control of his life and his legacy, even if he has been regularly fucking it up, and now this-

By the time he’s standing in front of Barnes his own chest is rising and falling nearly as quickly and Tony hesitates, trailing to a stop. Now that he’s here he doesn’t actually know what to do, he has no plan, all he knows is that it’s physically impossible to do nothing.

Every breath Tony takes burns through his lungs and Barnes is starting to hiccup on every inhale, what Tony can see of his face going ghostly pale.

Tony can only watch numbly as his hands move, reaching out, and not knowing what he’s going to do is fucking terrifying. So he makes a decision instead.

He buries his fingers in Barnes’ wild hair and it feels like being electrocuted. Tony’s grip clenches tighter as a current of something that damn sure feels like electricity flows up his arms. They’ve both stopped breathing entirely. Tony’s chest is too full of something-

It feels-

Barnes doesn’t resist when Tony yanks on his hair with shaking hands, letting Tony pull his face up out of his palms. He lets Tony pull until his head is craned back, loose strands of hair falling out of his face as they stare at each other.

His eyes are wide and bloodshot. Still so damn blue.

"Breathe, stupid," Tony finally manages to wheeze. He has to drag in a shuddering, painful lungful of air before he can add, “I’m having the panic attack right now, and I don’t share.”

The laugh that Barnes chokes out is edged with hysteria. His gaze moves over Tony’s face, looking for something, and when Tony forces himself to take another shaking inhale Barnes follows along.

Tony takes another breath, and so does Barnes. It’s easier than Tony expected, shoving everything aside to just focus on getting air in and out of his lungs.

Maybe because they’re finally touching again.

Barnes’ hair is surprisingly soft. It's hard to ignore, even if Tony is doing his best not to notice. Barnes’ skin gives off a heat that radiates up Tony’s arms, into his chest, and it is slightly loosening the knot of panic wrapped around Tony’s heart.

They continue to stare at each other, breathing in time.

Slowly Barnes raises one shaking hand to grab blindly for Tony’s hip. He holds on like Tony is some kind of life line, wrinkling the expensive fabric. It’s hard enough to bruise and it feels-

Everything is still sideways.

Reality has been pulled inside out, too bright and harsh and messy and it's never going back.

Even the faded colors of the farmhouse are too saturated, the weak overhead lighting nearly blinding. Tony can feel every stuttering beat of his heart through his entire body.

But standing here like this- close- touching-

It feels right.

That thought has barely settled in his mind before Tony is ripping himself away, stumbling backwards. He immediately feels off-balance, untethered, and he nearly trips over his own feet as he retreats the few more steps it takes to put his back against the far wall.

This can’t be happening.

But it is.

Tony is living a legend. He’d abandoned all of his plans the second he’d looked into Barnes’ eyes, everything he’d gone to Berlin to do. He’d betrayed his teammates- attacked Natasha-

His breath catches wetly as bile rises in his throat. He really- this isn’t supposed to-

But it's happening-

All the air has vanished from the room. He can’t breathe again, lungs closing up as he tries desperately to think of any other explanation.

There’s nothing. And even if he could find another reason, he knows-

He knows it's true. He has a-

No-

Tony has to get out of here, go-

Anywhere.

His head starts to pound, throbbing in protest, and Tony groans as he lets himself slide down the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut and thumps his head back against the rough wood, breath rattling in his chest.

He can feel Barnes watching him. He keeps his eyes firmly closed. He doesn’t- he can’t deal with this.

When Barnes finally speaks, what he says is, “Lemme know when you’re done with th’ panic attack, I call next.”

His voice sounds a little better, a little more stable, and it actually sends a bolt of relief through Tony. Followed quickly by a fresh wave of irritation.

“Fuck off,” he snaps back, the words rough and wavering.

Barnes doesn’t reply, and Tony keeps his eyes shut.

He’s not sure which is more upsetting, the very thought that Barnes might leave, or the soul-deep certainty that he can't.

Chapter 2

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #bucky/tony #riot writes

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longwindedbore · 1 year ago

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••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I have a different recollection the change to America.

The voter base began revising the Party makeup in the post -Vietnam 1970s.

Hyperpartisanship followed with the formal realignment of the two Parties in the late 1980s.

Nationally elected Conservative Democrats (largely from the Southern States) switched Parties to follow the party ngoing white white-collar suburban middle class and urban white blue-collar voters’ migration to the Regan version of the Republican Party.

This ended the Democratic Party’s essential lock on Congress from 1932 to 1986. In which Liberal Democrat Presidents and Centerist Republican Presidents worked with a Congress that operated based less on Party and more on regional and economic bipartisan caucuses.

In the next five years the Soviet bloc evaporated and along with the Cold War paranoia which served as a ‘stand together or fall separately’ unifying mantra.

I think we’d lost unifying threats against the Society as a whole: Great Depression, WW2, hot (Korea/Vietnam) and cold (Berlin crises/Cuban Missile Crisis) paths to nuclear oblivion.

The post-Roaring 20s order fell. Reignited the cultural war of 1900-1929.

Once again on one side the traditional/familiar, self segregating ethnically/religiously & by accents, strangers go home, largely rural hierarchical Church & Settler culture’.

On the other morphing/diverse, secular, Urban liberal, new-to-town ethnically mixing-pot, polyglotal, nonconformist, strangers welcome and bring your recipes, egalitarian evolving culture.

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alexanderrekeda1 · 5 months ago

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The Impact of the Ukraine War on International Relations

The Ukraine war, which began with Russia's annexation of Crimea in 2014 and escalated with the full-scale invasion in 2022, has profoundly impacted international relations. The conflict has shaken the foundations of global alliances, intensified geopolitical tensions, and reshaped the balance of power. Nations worldwide have had to reevaluate their positions, interests, and diplomatic strategies in response to this crisis. The war has not only altered the relationship between Russia and the West but also affected nations across Europe, Asia, Africa, and beyond.

The Revival of NATO and Western Unity

One of the most significant outcomes of the Ukraine war has been the resurgence of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) as a united and relevant defense alliance. Prior to the conflict, NATO was perceived by some as losing its strategic focus, with questions raised about its role in a post-Cold War world. However, Russia's aggression against Ukraine brought new urgency to NATO's mission. The invasion galvanized NATO members, leading to a renewed commitment to collective defense and the alliance's core principles.

Countries that were once hesitant to engage in military alliances, such as Sweden and Finland, moved swiftly to apply for NATO membership. Their applications marked a dramatic shift in European security policy, particularly for historically neutral Finland, which shares a long border with Russia. This expansion of NATO, driven by the perceived threat of Russian aggression, highlights the strategic realignment in Europe and the growing solidarity within the Western bloc.

Moreover, the war has strengthened the transatlantic bond between the United States and Europe. The U.S. has taken a leading role in coordinating military and economic support for Ukraine, reinforcing its position as a key player in European security. The war has demonstrated that, despite internal challenges, Western nations can unite in the face of a common threat.

Deteriorating Relations Between Russia and the West

The Ukraine war has pushed relations between Russia and the West to their lowest point since the Cold War. Western countries have responded to Russia's invasion with a wide array of sanctions targeting Russian industries, individuals, and financial institutions. These sanctions have been designed to isolate Russia economically and politically, cutting off access to international markets and technology while freezing the assets of Russian oligarchs and officials.

In response, Russia has sought to pivot away from the West, deepening its ties with countries that are either neutral or hostile to Western interests. This has included strengthening economic and military relationships with nations like China, India, and Iran. While Russia's global influence has been diminished due to its actions in Ukraine, it has also demonstrated a willingness to forge new alliances and partnerships outside the Western sphere of influence.

Diplomatic relations between Russia and Western powers have reached a near-total breakdown. Multiple rounds of talks aimed at de-escalating the conflict have failed, and Russia has been increasingly isolated on the international stage. The war has shifted Russia from a regional power with global aspirations to a pariah state, its reputation damaged by the invasion and the resulting humanitarian crisis.

China's Strategic Calculations

As the Ukraine war has unfolded, China's role in the conflict and its broader geopolitical ambitions have become more pronounced. While China has officially taken a neutral stance, calling for peace and dialogue, it has not condemned Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Instead, Beijing has sought to balance its close partnership with Moscow against its desire to maintain strong economic ties with the West.

For China, the Ukraine war has highlighted the risks and opportunities of a world where great power competition is intensifying. On the one hand, China has benefited from discounted Russian energy exports and strengthened ties with Russia, which could prove advantageous in its long-term rivalry with the United States. On the other hand, Beijing is keenly aware that aligning too closely with Russia could lead to economic repercussions and strain its relationships with Europe and other major trading partners.

The conflict has also prompted concerns about China's intentions in its neighborhood, particularly regarding Taiwan. Some analysts fear that China could view Russia's actions in Ukraine as a precedent for its potential military moves in the Asia-Pacific region. The war in Ukraine has served as a cautionary tale for China, demonstrating the international backlash and economic costs that could follow any aggressive military action against Taiwan or other contested areas.

The Role of Non-Western Powers

While much of the focus has been on the responses of Western nations and China, the Ukraine war has also had significant implications for countries outside these spheres. Many non-Western nations have found themselves caught between competing interests, with some adopting a neutral stance, others aligning with Russia, and still others supporting Ukraine.

In Africa and Latin America, the conflict has reignited debates about non-alignment and sovereignty. Some countries, wary of becoming entangled in a dispute between great powers, have sought to maintain neutrality. However, others have been swayed by Russian or Western diplomatic and economic incentives. For example, several African nations, which rely heavily on Russian arms or agricultural products, have been reluctant to criticize Moscow despite Western pressure.

The war has also had direct economic impacts on many non-Western countries, mainly through disruptions in global food and energy supplies. Ukraine and Russia are significant exporters of wheat and energy, and the conflict has caused shortages and price spikes, exacerbating economic instability in regions that were already struggling with post-pandemic recovery.

The United Nations and Global Governance Challenges

The Ukraine war has underscored the limitations of international organizations like the United Nations in resolving significant conflicts between powerful nations. While the UN has played a role in providing humanitarian aid and condemning the invasion, it has been sidelined mainly in terms of mediating the conflict itself. Russia, as a permanent member of the UN Security Council, has used its veto power to block any meaningful actions against its interests.

This situation has exposed the weaknesses of global governance structures when faced with the actions of a powerful state that violates international norms. The failure to prevent or quickly resolve the Ukraine conflict has prompted calls for reforming the UN and other international bodies to make them more effective in addressing such crises.

The Ukraine war has had far-reaching consequences for international relations, reshaping alliances, intensifying geopolitical rivalries, and exposing the limitations of global governance. NATO has emerged more muscular, with a renewed sense of purpose, while Russia has become increasingly isolated from the West. China's delicate balancing act highlights the complex nature of global power dynamics in a time of great uncertainty.

As the conflict drags on, the long-term impacts on international relations will continue to evolve. The war has demonstrated that in an interconnected world, conflicts are not contained to regional borders but can have global repercussions, affecting economies, alliances, and the future of diplomacy itself. The lessons learned from this conflict will likely shape international relations for years to come.

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valkyries-things · 7 months ago

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ROZANNE L. RIDGWAY // DIPLOMAT

“She is an American diplomat who served 32 years with the U.S. State Department, holding several posts, including ambassador to Finland and to East Germany, and finished her career as Assistant Secretary of State for European and Canadian Affairs. In the early 1970s, Ridgway negotiated long standing issues over fishing rights in Brazil, Peru and the Bahamas. Ridgway's subsequent negotiations led to the return of property of U.S. citizens from Czechoslovakia. As Special Assistant to the Secretary of State for Negotiations and, subsequently, the Assistant Secretary of State for European and Canadian Affairs, she was the lead negotiator at all four Reagan-Gorbachev summits. These brought the first substantive reductions in nuclear weapons, signaled the beginning of the end of Communism and the Cold War, and established the fundamental realignment of global power as America prepared to enter the twenty-first century.”

#female history #rozanne ridgway #the cold war #american history

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kontextmaschine · 2 years ago

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Okay,

First I mean, I'm starting from the premise that American unipolar dominance would end in some way in a similar timeframe, maybe if you were savescumming you could get 20 more years out of it. And 2000s-era neoconservatism, as an ideology premised on that dominance, would have necessarily been discredited with it. That cancels out on both sides of the counterfactual.

Similarly for 3, "national rivals come to realize that America is overextended and cannot maintain international hegemony" was baked in already with the expiration of the post-Cold War honeymoon.

"It had significant shaping effects on the composition and balance of domestic factions." ok I'll give you that. But so did Vietnam!

Antiwar activity was hugely important to party realignment! This was how primary-based presidential nomination came into being! The weapons spending-earned loyalty of labor vs. the ferment of campus activism introduced an education gap within the Democratic Party that is hugely important to this day!

But like… okay? You can learn that in college, but it's not part of the central narrative of America.

Yeah, we strained the post-Vietnam "all-volunteer force" and the slimmed-down post-Cold War capital structure, remember "stop-loss orders"? And school friends who enlisted all reported encountering some guys who musta got in by lowered standards. But we made it through, and you could honestly put "and this operation strained existing systems and traded off against preparation vs. other enemies" in the histories of any war, but you don't. (Unless you know in advance those vulnerabilities get exploited in the next chapter)

So if we're all doing our retrospective takes on the Iraq War, mine was… it wasn't that big a deal? In scale, direction, and costs borne and imposed it was basically well within norms for what the country might get distracted with over a two-decade period.

Already within my lifetime the specter of the Vietnam War, once much more significant in national affairs, looms not nearly as large as I remember it doing in the '80s (indeed, the easy victories of the "Desert Shield/Storm" Iraq excursion of the early '90s were specifically hailed for dispelling this "Vietnam Syndrome"), as colorful but not particularly important chapter of 20th Century American history.

While the action did not serve to renew America's post-Cold War unipolar "hyperpower" moment, I honestly don't think it accelerated its end any, which looks to be more a product of the development of China and reassertion of Russia than any "Clash of Civilizations".

#amhist

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captainrexisboo · 4 years ago

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In A Single Night

Here it is, my lads and ladies and lovers. Only six hours after posting the promo lmao. Sitting at 1685 words, this is the first chapter to my WereRex AU (accidentally prompted by this ask), as well as my first installation of my Monster!Clones series (because apparently I have no self control).

This specific AU takes place during some vague historical time period, outside the Star Wars universe. More supernatural and magic than sci-fi. It is a romance! But, I don’t think it’ll be explicit. There will be very loose reminiscing of lovemaking, but no detail will be shared (yet- I mean c’mon, it’s me).

In this chapter, there will be warnings such as: body horror (not gore tho), the act of pinning, An Anxiety Attack, and An Actual Attack (again, no gore), and ANGST

Tag list will be in the replies, let me know if you would like to be added! Thank you all for your support, and as always any comments are welcome!!! Happy reading!!!

Edit: link to pt2

“Rex!”

Your whispered shout cut sharply through the still night air, not daring to be any louder. You’re not sure what you were afraid of, there was nothing in the woods to fear- except for the reason you were there to begin with. The pressure of the task at hand made your head swim, and the anxiety from terror made your hands shake, thinking of what you witnessed, your grandmother’s age-old guidance, and Cody’s blessing, it all came crashing down onto you in frantic waves.

You forced down a breath, the air scratching down your dried throat. Eyes frantic, you glanced in every direction, praying you found him before he found you. Your grip tightened on the rim of the helmet- of his helmet- and you stared into the blue jaig eyes that graced the front of the dome. It was the only bit of armor you brought with you, the most familiar to use, the only other clothes being his nightwear. The entire armored set and flowing blue mantle that he wore about the castle would’ve been too much to carry, too heavy. You needed to be able to move quickly, which was already proving difficult in the dense underbrush of the overgrown forest that he had escaped into, the leaves and low branches making your trek much noisier than you would have preferred. Dried twigs snapped under your boots, and every rustle from a night critter or chirps from various insects made you spin around with shoulders raised, terrified but ready to commit to the mission at hand- bring Captain Rex home.

You couldn’t believe it when only hours ago you witnessed the esteemed Captain fall into a frantic heap into the grass, a terrible aching cry ripping from his throat at the edge of town, the giant archway of the tall brick barrier that surrounded the village framing his crumpled body. He had been waiting for you, he had asked to meet under the light of the moon tonight while he was on break from patrol, just outside the town gates. You were about to run to the aid of your lover when something cold ran down your spine. An instinct to stop, stay out of sight- you’re unsure if it was the force of the raw wail or the way he seemed to be moving under his jacket...as if the muscles formed underneath his skin were realigning, morphing, writhing...growing.

You stood back, frozen, breathless. You couldn’t tear your widening eyes away. Especially when you saw the thick fabric of his pristine white coat begin to tear and rip, partially from the swelling of his form, but also shredding from the clawing of his shaking hands, as if the material were burning him and he needed it off as soon as possible. Underneath, instead of the tanned expanse of scarred skin you thought you knew so well, was a coating of shining blond hair, almost a soft golden in the glinting moonlight. His screaming had subsided, but you could still hear his rough, ragged, deep breathing, even from how far away you were. His grunting and groaning were painful, you could tell his throat was already scarring from the harmful strain of voice, and yet he still found it in himself to howl into the night sky, throwing his head back in a gruesome, bitter ballad to the full moon above you. As the furious sound waned from him, you could see his form slacken in relief. His breathing was heavy, laced with an outraged growling. He moved from being lurched over on his knees to gaining onto his haunches. Where you thought he would be shaky, you noticed him channeling whatever was left of himself into standing up with his signature battle-ready grace.

He stood tall, like usual...but with an extra two feet added to his height. The blond coating of, not hair, but thick, coarse fur, extended over his limbs, bristling in the cool of the night. His form not only stood taller, but also gave him a wider stance, even with hunched shoulders he was hulking, skin nearly ripping at the sudden growth. He rolled his neck and shoulders back, the sudden crack of settling bones finally bringing your lungs back to life as you took a gasping breath, a single stumbling step backwards- you were too loud. He whipped his head around to face you with a wild snarl, bounding to you, covering nearly two hundred meters in a matter of seconds. You shrieked, falling back onto the uneven cobblestone as he was suddenly on top of you, caging you beneath him in his new massive form, your heart hammering as whimpers stuttered past your quivering lips, his hot breath washing over your face, claws cracking into the hard rock next to your cheeks, threatening to cut at your hair.

His plush, bow-shaped lips curled over to showcase protruding fangs, mere inches away from your face as you flattened yourself against the cold hard ground, practically trying to will yourself beneath the surface before the unthinkable could happen. His face kept most of his shape, nose a little longer, a little pointed upwards, and jaw widened as if to take mauling bites out of anything- no, out of anyone. His normally cleanly shaven face was covered in the same fur as the rest of him, except for where his brows had been. The fur there was almost forming something like a dark mask, making a T-shape over his eyes and nose. All of this you could take in stride as he sniffed over you, you could stand any of this transformation as he kept you trapped below him, but it was his eyes that had you quaking.

His kind, honeyed stare, the irises that held such adoration and desire for you as you whispered promises of love and devotion to each other behind dark corners and between soft bed sheets- that was gone. No trace of your dearest paramour to be found. Instead it was a fiery golden gaze, a purely carnal type of hunger, and for what you couldn’t be sure. His pupils had shrunk into pinpoints, surveying you like a piece of meat, like a meal. He opened his mouth with a throaty growl, baring his teeth to you even more, craning down to your neck with thick saliva dripping from his maw. As his teeth skimmed over your flesh, just before they could pierce through, is when you finally found your voice, previously dammed from terror, choking out a broken, “Rex, please…”

He paused at his name. Holding over you, as still as the hanging moon, upright ear twitching in response to your begging. Your breath shakes in anticipation, tremors running through your otherwise petrified body. He rears his head back harshly, suddenly, letting out a grim bark, and you screw your eyes shut tight to brace for the searing pain of your ripping flesh...that never comes. After a thick moment of watching the synapses of nerves spark behind your eyelids, you blink them open, slowly shifting up onto trembling elbows just in time to see him disappear into the shadows of the trees.

You’re terrified.

You want to cry.

You don’t understand what’s happening, so you stay lying on the ground, curling in on yourself as you silently sob out his name. You roll to your side, letting fat tears stream down your face, throwing your hand over your mouth as you push out heaving breaths, seeing the sharply pierced stone next to your head, splintering cracks coming from each hole at the force with which they were made. You laid there for what felt like hours, alone, shaking, small under the laughing moon. Emotion wracked through you, storming through your mind and body until you were left rasping for precious oxygen, completely emptied of your tears, the streaks having marked their pathway down your cheeks and neck to under the collar of your shirt.

Something whispers at the back of your mind as you’re coming down from your rush, a suddenly clear vision of your childhood, your grandmother telling you stories of shapeshifting beasts. Simultaneously man and monster, both in body and soul. You had asked her before she tucked you into bed once, while you were throwing on the covers and trying to blink away fatigue to finish the tall tale, “Is there any way to change them back? Aren’t they still human under their fur?”

She looked wistful then, staring out the window of your bedside, looking up into the moon. A sensitive shine came across her gaze, delicately reflecting the candlelight as she spoke so quietly you had to strain to hear her, even in the hush of your bedroom.

“If there’s someone who loves the beast enough, despite knowing their cursed form, underneath the light of the stars they can present the fanged horror with clothes-”

“Clothes? Grandmere, that doesn’t sound very-”

“Very what? Extravagant? Magical?” she chuckled, a little broken, wiping away sitting tears on her lashes, “Child, love is the most magical thing in the world. If it’s love in the purest form, telling the beast to come home, it will leave it’s brutish whims behind and dutifully follow it’s love back to the safety of a warm bed.”

She touched the garish scar you knew hid under her blouse, drawing in a sharp, shaking breath as her fingers traced the marred pink flesh of her shoulder, “If it’s not true… they’ll leave you. They’ll lose their last bit of humanity in that moment. Make you wish you had spared the energy you’d used to find them to begin with.”

You crash back into reality, her warning sitting heavy in your mind. You finally sat up, still in the middle of the empty road, surrounded by the dark windows of closed shops showing you your ragged reflection. You dusted off, getting onto wobbling legs before stalking off towards the castle. More specifically, the soldiers’ dormitory.

If the memory held any truth, then you didn’t have much time. You had to find his brother.

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journey-to-balance · 4 years ago

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[VI]

Fighting Hate Only Increases Its Power over Us: Balancing our Desire to Live in a Peaceful World with The Chaos That Constantly Bombards Us.

On a daily basis, we hear from a variety of sources that our world is turned upside down, evil exists everywhere, and terrorism is a way of life. People seem determined to kill each other in increasingly violent ways. Radio, television, and online news outlets dispense an endless cascade of man’s inhumanity to man, family members turned against one another, teenagers on killing rampages in their schools, and terror rocking Earth’s consciousness everywhere from train stations to places of worship.

The point I’m making here is that we seem to live in a totally out-of-balance world where our desires for feeling peaceful are challenged by the myriad of nonpeaceful energies that are considered newsworthy. But we do have a choice in this matter. And we can choose to realign ourselves energetically with our desire to live in this world peacefully, regardless of what’s going on around us, and in spite of the nonpeaceful energy we’re so often subjected to.

We can begin by deciding to maintain a tranquil existence within ourselves even when others promote fear, anger, and hatred about this violent planet. After all, a massive collective effort throughout the history of humanity - BY THOSE IN POSITIONS OF AUTHORITY - has taught individuals whom to fear, and even worse, whom to hate. If we’d been alive in America back in the 1750s, we’d have been told that it was our patriotic duty to hate the French as well as the Native Americans. Twenty-five years later, we’d have been told that it was okay to stop hating the French, but that we were obliged to hate the British. Now fast forward 87 years, and if we lived in the South, we’d be told to hate those in the North, and Northerners were likewise required to hate Southerners, even if they were related by blood. And by the way, it was no longer a requirement that we hate the British.

Now move ahead 34 years, and it wasn’t necessary to hate the Spanish. Twenty years later, it was compulsory to hate the Germans, and in just a few decades the Japanese would be added to our required hate list. By the time it was considered okay to stop hating the Germans and the Japanese, we were led to another target, the Communists, be they in North Korea or North Vietnam several years later.

In other words, there’s always been a collection of people being added to or deleted from the hate inventory. For a long time we were required to hate Russians, then Iranians, Iraqis were okay, but that didn’t last very long. On and on goes this litany of hate! The faces change, but the message remains: We’re told whom to hate, never for a moment recognizing that the enemy we’re supposed to hate isn’t a nationality, a religious or political belief - the enemy is HATRED ITSELF!

In order to live peacefully, to rebalance our lives, we must remove ourselves from all hate lists. Each of us, singly and with all the others, is answerable for creating joy through the way our lives unfold, here and NOW. I suggest that the number one thing we can do to create joy is remove hate from our inner consciousness. Whenever we use forceful language, and hateful responses to resolve our disputes, we instantly create a counterforce. The cycles of war and hatred, create thoughts of revenge, and more hateful thoughts and actions in response. Break the Cycle we MUST. The more we buy into hatred, the more those who sell the messages benefit. We can decide to become an instrument of of peace. We can affirm: I am Divine creation; I choose to stay connected to this Divinity in all of my thoughts and in all of my actions. I am an instrument of peace, and I send peaceful, loving thoughts to those people who seem to need it so desperately. I refuse to collaborate with the energy of hatred anywhere, anytime.

I am Christian, raised Roman Catholic, but there’s a particular passage from The Holy Koran that truly speaks to me: “Whatever good you have in you is from God, whatever evil, is all from yourself.”

Choose not to be one of those people who are dragged along. Refuse to be brought to the bidding of any and all powers who attempt to convince us that believing in peace is unpatriotic, that turning against your family is righteous, that discarding a friendship is acceptable, that digging in our heels in order to prove others wrong is commendable or worthy of respect, that shunning our neighbors makes us a valuable member of our community.

Former President Dwight Eisenhower, who was also a commander of the Allies in World War II, once remarked: “Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those we are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense.”

This is a call to get ourselves and our nation in balance. Peace demands heroic thinking and a purity of consciousness. Choose to become a beacon of light. Whenever you feel the need to post a hateful, bombastic meme on social media meant to insight an emotional response, STOP. Whenever you feel the need to share a dehumanizing article aimed at this or that particular group, DON’T. Whenever you feel the pull to call others expletives, STOP. Whenever you feel the need to gloat, from the point to ego, DON’T. Whenever you want to swear revenge for an injustice, real or imagined, STOP. We must REALIZE that our thoughts are magnets that collectively lower or raise our vibrational pull of abundance in all aspects of our lives and that one way or another all our actions, real or in thought, place us on the path of a shared destiny.

I am reminded of an ancient Chinese proverb that tell us: “If you choose to pursue hate, you’d better dig two graves.”

#Our Journey to Balance

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stirringwinds · 5 years ago

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Though they probably wouldn’t admit it do you think Al and Arthur love and relatively care about each other? Like deep down they struggle with the fact that they want to see the other get hurt but they don’t at the same time? Or is a father/son relationship to complex for the countries to really grasp, especially with their history and of course modern politics?

nah, i don’t see familial ties as being beyond hetalia nations’ contemplation. despite their eldritchy natures. ngl i love centering the father-son relationship in interpreting arthur and alfred through the ages. they may be pretty dysfunctional in my interpretation but at the same time...that’s also very human. sons who grow up to be like the fathers they hate. the politics of it all feels analogous to all those royal families where politics is personal and everyone’s plotting against their own relatives. arthur is the old king, alfred is the young prince.

the way i see it, they mellow more with the 20th century. part of that is with the end of arthur’s empire...they’re no longer quite so much direct rivals as in the 19th century or before WWII. there’s fewer venues for them to be directly in conflict (fewer incidents like the suez crisis), more room for collaboration except arthur of course has to get used to his son calling the shots. the cold war kind of helps. if ivan is a bigger threat, well, it’s fortunate alfred is so terribly strong, isn’t it? the geopolitical realignment also attenuates quite a bit of enmity. post-imperial afterlife for arthur. alfred is still his favourite son after all this time, and part of that is because of how similar they can be underneath their seemingly very different dispositions: that pride and ambition. alfred would snort if he had to talk about love and Father™ in the same sentence, but i’d say he shows it more with actions. he no longer seriously thinks of going to war against the old man, and as i’ve mentioned—yep, throws him a lifeline with Lend Lease even if outwardly he does go ‘it’s not my problem.’

before that, in the late 18th and early 19th century i do see alfred’s relationship with arthur being pretty bad. and it’s also at a point where arthur seems far more powerful. alfred definitely wished him ill. the mighty british empire. because father seems invincible—and wishing God ill seems immaterial doesn’t it? hurl a curse at the Almighty, what does it do? for arthur; i think his feelings were a little bit more restrained once he calmed the fuck down. he’s older than alfred, and treason or not, shit it’s his eldest son. more of a ‘that fool will realise how it is without my protection. he’ll have to learn the hard way, then.’ but he couldn’t resist always having one eye on how the wretched firstborn was doing during that time, all the same. alfred’s like ‘haha the old man hates me most of all’ to his siblings and y’know, they know it isn’t quite so.

#hetalia #garbagedad and trashson #aph america #aph england

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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31. The One That I Get to Build With

Previous Word Count: 7608

Hazel was less irritated with Grace and Simon when they were honest with her and told her that they were going to be involved in a relationship, but not openly. They didn’t want anyone else to know, mostly because Grace was very secretive and didn’t want the same people who often intruded into her social media to find their way into this relationship, as they attempted to build it.

So, the simple rule was that if someone made a comment about the relationship not to respond to it and if someone asked about it, not to answer. They just moved the conversation right along, like the relationship had not been mentioned. Grace and Simon used to do that all of the time. Hazel, they worried might find it more difficult, but they were counting on the fact that most people who might ask her would be online, where she could easily ignore them.

Simon went to his parents’ for Thanksgiving. Apparently, his dad begged him to , because he was certain that this would be his mom’s last one… Simon guessed that Grace was making him soft, because he couldn’t say no. It felt wrong to just refuse. “You gonna be okay?” Grace asked, the night before his flight.

“Yeah,” he answered, sadly. “I’ll stop by to see your parents, while I’m out there.”

“They’ll probably be at a banquet or something. Hazel and I are going to do some charity and bring some people to shelters, then have dinner together and retire in our jammies to have movie night.”

Simon groaned, “Why do you have to rub that in my face?”

“Don’t complain.” He pouted silently. “You’ll be able to be around for Christmas, if you’re still playing your cards right.”

“I’m never gonna mess this up.”

“Awww. Well… see you when you get back.”

She made sure that was correct, because whenever Simon got back, the Monday after Thanksgiving, Grace was asleep in his bed. He’d given her a key almost as soon as they decided that they were going to give themselves a try, but she didn’t really use it. He was grateful that she had that night. Seeing his family had been enough to make him grateful for what he escaped from. After he washed up, he slid into bed and wrapped his arms around her. She stirred to ask him how it went, and when he said he didn’t want to talk about it, she simply rested her head on his chest, kissed his tattooed pec, and went back to sleep. The scent of her hair gave him a comfort that he had forgotten existed the previous few days. This was one of the things he was thankful for, wrapped up tightly in his arms, in his bed.

Simon and Hazel decorated his house for Christmas. Really, Simon decorated and Hazel critiqued, but it was “helpful,” for her to tell him everything that he seemed to be doing wrong… for a while. It was actually extremely cold and he didn’t usually spend that amount of time outside in such weather. Plus… the criticism. He wasn’t fond of being criticized, even after years of therapy. Eventually, he told her, “I think I can handle some lights, Hazel. I graduated from MIT.”

Hazel rolled her eyes and told him, “You say that to me and I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean any more than you know what you’re doing with these lights.”

“Hazel…” He said it then took a pause to catch his breath and realign his patience. That was what Grace called it. Realigning your patience. She’d take a look at him and ask, “Do you think maybe you need to realign your patience?” Not to calm down, and not accusing him of getting upset, but asking him to realign his patience and somehow, every time, he got soft and did exactly that. “Good job, Gray Eyes,” and a strum of his ponytail later, he’d be a cool pile of putty for her to mold… But Grace was inside of the house and her little Christmas slave-driver was not the model of invoking patience…

“Gra-a-a-ce!” Simon called out. “GRACE!” He said louder and more short.

She came running outside and immediately checked on Hazel. “What is it? Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Please, get her cocoa or something,” Simon said. It was given like an order and gave Grace pause, to look at him like he was out of his mind. “Please?” He repeated, softer. “I need to realign my patience and it’s hard to focus in this cold…” She softened up too.

“Come on, Haze,” Grace wrapped an arm around Hazel’s shoulder and guided her inside. Simon got more done now, but he hoped that it looked okay. Hazel had caused some doubts. Eventually, Grace called him and told him to come inside and recalibrate. He groaned, but knew that it was a commandment, not a suggestion. Besides, he was freezing his balls off.

Whenever he walked in, it felt so refreshingly warm. The house smelled like pine, fire, and some sort of candles that Grace had lit all over the opening of the house. Hazel and Grace were in the kitchen. Hazel, seated at the island with an absurdly large mug that her GlamMother got her for winters in New York and a plate of something that smelled remarkable. Grace took his coat and hung it on the rack and gestured at his shoes. He set them on the rack next to the door and she led him to the kitchen. “Since Hazel is a great helper, she helped me to try out my first recipe from a recipe book that I got as an early Christmas present!” She cheered.

Simon didn’t look excited about it. Everyone knew that of Grace’s many talents, the only ones that happened in the kitchen were usually DIY natural beauty products. She gently forced him into the seat next to Hazel and began to excitedly prepare him something.

Simon leaned towards Hazel and whispered, “I’m sorry about losing it out there. Level with me. Should I be worried?”

Hazel smirked and tilted her head, “Are you suggesting that Our Grace can’t follow the instructions in a recipe book, Simon?”

“No… Just… wondering if she can…” Hazel snorted. It didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t devoured her gingerbread men.

“Okay, SO… Here is a cup of crock pot hot chocolate and…” she turned around with a mug and a plate and it looked vaguely familiar. “Gingerbread Man VS Snowman S’mores…” Simon gasped, recalling being with his Nana dad's mom, before she died and making an entire murder scene with her gingerbread man cookies and the marshmallow snowmen that she was going to melt into the cocoa… he then let out a hearty laugh about that situation.

“I wanted to try to be a good girlfriend for Christmas, so I called your dad while you were away and he shipped me your grandmother’s recipe book that she gave your mom when she passed away. He said that nobody has used it in years. It is SO descriptive! AND… She notated the stuff that each of her kids, grandkids, and their spouses and stuff loved. So… I found all the ones marked “Simon,” bookmarked them, and discovered that you helped her create one of her treats!”

“I can’t believe she recorded that!” He laughed, explaining, “What I did was ruin a bunch of her stuff and whenever they caught me, my dad was ready to give me a spanking, but Nana intervened and asked, “Don’t you see that the boy’s a genius? Why, he just created my new favorite treat!” We took the broken gingerbread cookies and the snowmen, made smores and pretended that it was the after effects of a warzone. She let me tell the story of how they were fighting, because she’d missed out on that part of my game… That was… actually my first creative story that I shared with anybody. So, you actually just gave me a really special gift, because I hadn't considered that historical memory in years.” Grace’s eyes were wide and glossy. Simon stopped laughing to come to hug her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Grace.”

“Don’t thank her yet, you haven’t tasted it,” Hazel teased. She bit off the head of one of the additional gingerbread man cookies that weren’t in the war. It was actually really good! Simon’s grandma must’ve left great instructions, or Hazel was to thank for Grace following through so well with them.

Simon put off the rest of the decorations until the next day. Whenever he finished, Hazel was actually awestruck. The scene? Elves taking the sleigh on a joyride, one of them hanging off of the rails, one on a reindeer's back, one controlling the sleigh and one ducking in it, peeking out.

“How did you do this? How did you do that?” She asked about various aspects of the scene.

“I graduated from MIT,” Simon said, taking a sip of a mug of cocoa with a melting snowman marshmallow in it. Hazel still didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but she now at least respected it.

Christmas Eve at Grace’s was everyone’s wildest dreams come true. At least the three of them. Grace had arranged matching jammies - they weren’t identical, but you know… the same designs/color pattern. They were reindeer themed and she had some for Samantha, as well. Samantha and Hazel had wearable antlers. Simon and Grace had hoodies that “turned them into” reindeer.

They worked on each other’s hair - Grace being exceptionally good at braids now gave Hazel an elaborate celtic braid that she had been wanting for a while, and Simon two French braids. Hazel and Simon bickered over who could be better at doing Grace’s hair and she wound up with one of them on each side, turning her into a lopsided headed hot mess. She took selfies of the act in progress and even went live to show people what she was doing with her Christmas Eve… just because sharing certain parts of her life was fun…

OF COURSE, she anticipated that she might accidentally get a shot of Simon’s face as she did this, but she was careful to try not to. Whenever she DID accidentally do so (or maybe someone heard his voice or Hazel say his name in the background or something), she had plenty of comments to ignore about the matter. But, someone within minutes had already created posts about Simon and Grace in family pajamas and doing each other’s hair.

When she turned it off, she reminded them that they weren’t saying anything about it. But, all of them had their own photos and people definitely were piecing together the matching pajamas, even though Simon wasn’t posting full photos of himself on his… he DID post photos of Hazel, Grace and Samantha. Eventually, Hazel, with her doe eyes told them that she wasn’t used to having a Christmas like this and she wanted an actual family photo. Simon made it happen, as the one who was best at it, and Hazel changed her profile pic to it. This was a Christmas dream come true for her, so Grace didn’t raise a fuss about the nosy people. Simon was grateful for that, too, as he wrapped himself around her, while Hazel laid her head on her lap for them to watch Christmas movies until Hazel fell asleep. Simon tucked her away in her bed, setting the atmosphere of the room the way that he had seen Grace do several times in the time that they had been spending time sleeping over at each others’ - the lighting, the diffuser, her Tuba stuffie, and Samantha had come into the room and curled around her feet. Simon gave Hazel’s hair a strumming and shut the door quietly behind him.

Whenever he went back out, Grace wasn’t in the living room anymore and she’d turned off the TV, so he presumed she went to bed, as well. He picked up any clutter they left laying around and put things back where they belonged before he retired too. Grace was… awake… She wasn’t in her matching pajamas anymore. Instead, she had on a red nightie that hardly covered anything, with some fun stuff beneath. He froze, shut the door, locked it. She leaned back against the pillows and smirked, “It’s Christmas Eve. I believe that you have something to show me.”

“Permission to present, Ma’am?”

“I consent.” Simon smiled and removed his pajamas before approaching the bed and removing his boxers. “Bring it here, for further inspection,” she said, with a teasing smile. He climbed into bed, and saw that she had on pasties that read “Naughty” and “Nice” and her thong had a picture of a mistletoe on the front. He stared at it and looked up at her. “I consent,” she repeated, to answer his unasked question.

They still weren't going all the way. Grace wasn't sure when she might be ready for that and Simon wasn't pressing his luck by asking for more. Besides, there were things far more important than sex and while her using favors and acts as a means to keep him… in line, he was more than appreciative about the fact that he was invited to spend New Year's Eve with she and her friends.

Whenever Mr. and Mrs. Monroe came over for the opening of the presents, Grace was back into her pajamas again and nobody ever would have known just how naughty she had been the night before. Hazel got more presents than were even reasonable, and Grace was given a lot by her parents and Simon, as well. Simon was surprised that her parents had bought him gifts as well. He had expected ones from Grace (was unsure about Hazel, but glad to receive from her too). There was… a lot of love he was feeling. It reminded him of whenever he used to spend holidays with the Monroes and be treated at least like he mattered, if not like family. He cried about it, apologizing to the Monroes for everything he'd done. Mrs. Monroe brushed it off, but he and Mr. Monroe wound up talking at length about things men are supposed to do and not supposed to do, why he had been disgusted by Simon's decisions, etc. At the end of it, Simon did feel like Mr. Monroe forgave him. Mrs. Monroe was always going to feel how she felt, and that was alright. It had to be, just like it had to be, that Simon was always going to feel how he felt about his parents… who also sent gifts for him and Hazel with the Monroes. Hazel and him decided that they would video call them together to thank them. Faith looked terrible. She looked like a fading ghost. But, she was starting to be nicer. Probably the guilt and the fear of thinking that something was next.

For Simon? What was next was here on Earth. Christmas Day yielded him having to put together things for Hazel and Grace, finish making sure that dinner was right, and continually try to score brownie points with Grace. The Monroes were staying at an upscale hotel, but stayed at the townhouse well past nightfall. Grace had kept certain things steady - the candles, sometimes throwing a little handful of herbs she selected into the fireplace, everyone’s drink glasses, and check-ins with Simon, to make sure he was still feeling okay, as this was their first Christmas together and her family could be stressful, etc. He was great. He never wanted it to end. He felt needed and wanted. He felt cared for and acknowledged. He didn’t even have that anxious feeling that it was all going to go away.

He wound up having to carry Hazel to bed. She fell asleep on her grandparents’ laps, playing on a new device they got her, which he put away first and tucked her in, accordingly.

“He seems very comfortable here,” Mrs. Monroe said.

“We’re working on things, Mom,” Grace said, nodding. Her parents had about the same amount of information that everyone else had about this situation. The more that they knew was that Simon would be there for Christmas. They hadn’t expected him to have slept over, in matching pajamas, to be cooking the food, building the toys, and certainly not for him to be tucking their granddaughter into bed. “We’ve been working on things since maybe a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, give or take a few days.”

“So, he’s made this place a second home in a month’s time.” It was a statement.

“Mommy! Stop.”

Simon returned, just as cheerful as before and paused when he noticed the energy in the room. He pointed his thumb towards Hazel’s room and said, “I may have to add something in there to make storage more optimal, with all the new stuff..” Grace just smiled and nodded. “Did I interrupt something.”

“Just my reservations about you being here,” Mrs. Monroe said. Simon frowned and he nodded. “But, my daughter is an adult now. She makes her own decisions and if you tell her too much that she doesn’t like, she moves across the country and rarely calls…” Grace groaned, “SO! I guess my reservations will merely dissipate, like they’ve done in days past.”

“I think you should definitely feel how you feel…” He bit his lip and told Grace, “I’ll head home.”

“Head home? You’re not gonna stay?... and… help me clean up in the kitchen?” She asked… not wanting him to leave her alone with her parents and not wanting to say that either. But, he took the hint.

“Right! Sorry. Of course, I am.” He squeezed her hand and sat down beside her. There was some silence, then he broke it, “I know that everyone has reason not to believe me and I’m not going to beg anybody anymore… except for Grace, sometimes. At this point, it is out of everyone’s control whether or not I can be trusted, as Grace has decided to try to trust me. It’s now up to me to live up to that opportunity. Everyone is welcome to come to my house tomorrow and go through and see what I’ve been up to lately.”

They spent some time at his house the next day and now, Mrs. Monroe wondered, “Why didn’t you just host Christmas here?”

“Maybe next year,” Grace said, with a shrug. It was the best thing that Simon had heard. He smiled and blushed and puffed his chest out. She was considering that she hoped to still be with him next year. That was a perfect ending to his Christmas, and he prayed for New Year’s Eve to go well, too.

Shana fortunately was not going to be there. She and her girlfriend were in Cali for Christmas and New Year's. In fact, there were several other people that were there that hadn't been around for the birthday party Simon had sort of crashed. Tulip, Mikayla, and Julliard chick who he found out was named Chapa were there, along with the Black ginger dude, who they called Meta, and Damita, Grace's alleged best friend. There were about a dozen other people too. Among them, Ghairrisahn, and truth be told, seeing her again, and in close quarters, Simon was still a little bit smitten by her. But, he also kept looking at Grace, who had worn what was essentially sparkly jewelry out.

It was luminescent chain mail two piece, pleated like victory curtain swag that flowed like water and sparkles like embers whenever the light caught it. The cup only bra and seamless panty beneath was so customized to her skin tone, he'd thought that she was naked beneath and initially almost injured himself when she took off her fur coat.

Nobody in the room was as sexy… Though… he really had to admit… Her friends were all pretty sexy.

Someone offered him a beverage, and he declined, "I don't drink."

"Are you both straight edge?"

"No. I take a lot of meds and have a partially functioning liver and less than stellar spleen. Couldn’t afford to drink, if I was even tempted to."

"Jesus! A medical condition?"

"Ummm… the meds, yes. I've got delusional tendencies, ummm… not heavy, but enough that I need the additional assistance. The organs were the consequences to one of my many, many aggravated episodes."

"Which… were not actually related to his psychosis," Grace offered and threw him a look, wondering why he was divulging the information this way.

"Not directly. I have some struggles, but I also can be an asshole," he chuckled. "A little childhood trauma, poor early development resources and a personality disorder that I've been working through, with a lot of help…" he looked at Grace and she cupped his chin and smiled at him. That was enough to help him relax.

"You don't have to tell people all of that, Gray Eyes. “I’m on medication” is enough, or even, just “I don’t drink."

"It's… fine." He smiled back, his heart uncontrollable as he looked her way. God, she was beautiful and precious. He loved her so much. He loved that she was with him again, and that it was more than it had ever been before.

"How bout a virgin daiquiri?"

"Sure, thanks."

The night mellowed out after a while. Grace went to call in with the nanny to check on Hazel when it was her bedtime. Simon watched her as she stepped out of the room, sparkling and waited to see her strut back inside. "Hazel just went to bed," she told him.

A few moments later, Meta asked Simon, "Have you heard Grace freestyle?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Freestyle."

"Freestyle?"

"Rap…?"

"Rap…???" Simon immediately thought about when they were younger and Grace tried to rap. She was probably 13 he was sure not 14 yet, and it was both miserable to hear but the absolute best thing because it was so comical. That thought alone steered him from the surrounding conversation that followed onto laughing uncontrollably.

Grace and Ghairrisahn stared at him and others tried not to laugh at his response. Grace simply thought, ‘So, you’re just gonna sit here and laugh in my face like this?’ Tears were streaming from his eyes! When he finally composed himself he took a few moments trying to breathe again and asked, "Hmm?" he repeated, “Rap? Like… rap music?” He got up to find some tissue and Grace folded her arms, smirking. “I’M GONNA PEEE!!!” Simon called out, rushing to the bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later, seemingly composed, but muttered the word, “Rap,” and laughed again, though not as hard, this time.

Ghairrisahn suggested, "Let him listen to her Fat P**** verse."

Simon choked and his eyes were wide, "Her what?"

"Oh my God, you guys! That was so long ago!" Grace said. "Please, nobody have that! I already had to sit here and watch this man laugh harder than he ever has in all the years that I’ve known him."

"I have it," Damita said. “I still jam Fat P***y. Salty that they never made and released that. That was dope. We can always use more p***y songs, in my opinion.”

Simon was definitely on board to keep hearing pretty women casually say the P word, but his face must have shown his confusion, because Grace explained, "Whenever I first tried to make my mark in the New York music scene, they were wondering if I could rap, and I had been practicing…" Simon started laughing again, but she talked over him, "BECAUSE, I didn't like the way I used to sound. So I was trying to tap into like the hot girl aesthetic and when Sahn called to ask me if I wanted to write some songs for her and maybe work on demos with her, one of my more risque songs that was all singing of course, they asked, can you throw in a rap verse?"

“Here’s the verse,” Damita said and turned it up:

“Ever since I was a baby sucking on my mama teet, everybody realized, wasn't nobody hot as me.

I was born with it, true, I got it from my mama. Grew up, glowed up, now these b****** want drama.

Can't be mad at me cuz your men keep flocking. Girl I don't want them n****s, I tell them to keep walking.

Why do she? Act like she all that, stuntin hard, swear to God on all them alleycats.

Why she never shook when every other bitch would be?

I got too much of my own to ever act like a groupie. Every real n**** know that girl so bougie.

Why so many high rollers be wanting her to choose he?

Maybe that's because they know she got that good coochie.

That's right, fat p***y on my stat sheet. They wanna hit, but I only let ‘em eat me.

Pucker up, work that tongue until they can't breathe -

And only if they got the energy to please me… Fat P***y…”

The song went on to soulfully and smoothly sing about fat P, and there were whispers and ad libs that he knew were Grace. By the end, he wondered where her rap was. "What happened?"

"I practiced and got better at rapping, so my verse sounded good, but they didn’t like it. They felt like it was too much.”

He laughed. "That wasn't you!" They played it again and she rapped and sang along. Simon had a look in his eyes as he was forced to admit, "Well… you definitely got better than the rapping I remember."

Then, he was once again thinking about how she sounded way back when. It caused another fit of laughter. “Boy, fuck you!” Grace said and playfully kicked him. Even still, he couldn’t stop laughing.

What made matters worse was whenever Damita asked, “Was your rapping as bad as the freestyle you did on Tuba’s show?”

“WHAT???” Simon asked and howled at the sky. “PLEASE! PLEASE… Do you have that?”

“It’s online,” Damita said.

“Woooooow. You are such a fake friend,” Grace said.

“You… did it in a studio audience…”

Simon found the clip and it wasn’t actually bad. It was definitely of the Kids’ Bop variety, but he loved it. “You’re good at rapping now. Because, I mean… do YOU remember when you first tried?”

She shook her head, “No, that sounds made up. I think you imagined it.” Simon stopped smiling and stopped to think, with an anxious look on his face. Grace caught her mistake and winced. She climbed onto his lap and said, “No, no, no… I'm sorry. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t mean that. You didn’t imagine it. I definitely tried to rap and sounded like somebody’s suburban Becky with a struggle blaccent.” He took a deep breath and nodded. She took his chin in her hand and forced his lips to pucker for her to kiss. “Sorry about that. I promise, I didn’t mean to make you panic.”

“S’ok.” He smiled.

Ultimately he had Damita to send him the audio of the demo. As funny as the idea of her wrapping had been before, he couldn't deny that there was something very appealing about getting to hear her say that word over and over.

Ringing in a new year kissing her lips in front of other people felt like a tremendous accomplishment. Appearing in several of the photos with her and her friends that were circulating social media, and then leaving with her on his arm, in that goddamn bracelet from Tiffany's and the fur coat. Ghairrisahn gave him a kiss on the cheek goodnight. He and Tulip exchanged contact info for a possible work project later. Nobody punched him. He was able to get some friction action from Grace, to the point of losing control in his pants, and he had a new catchy song to sing and rap about.

Every time he brings it up, it's either him laughing about how he remembered her old rap, or him rapping sporadically about having a fat P… which.. also gave him a little chuckle. Neither of them knew at that time that he would walk around the house rapping it for a few weeks, every few months, for quite a while.

"For someone with little compact titties and a tight little petite butt, you do have a pretty fat pu-"

"I will definitely react in displeasure if you finish that statement…" They gave each other wincing smiles. He punctuated his by kissing her on the nose real quick.

Whenever Valentines Day rolled around, she told him that she didn’t really want to do anything… which he HATED, because he loved that day! But, she wanted to be lowkey and she didn’t think that he could manage lowkey. She decided to make him one of his beloved ASMR videos, of her eating chocolate covered fruit and sucking on ice cubes with edible flowers in them. “This is gonna help smooth me over for a long time,” he said watching it. “I made you a video too.”

“Send it to me!” she said.

Whenever she opened the video and it was a fanvid compilation of her dancing in music videos or her social media posts, played to match up with Fat P***y, she cackled, then shook her head, “I am so tired of your ass,” she joked.

That was around the time that the revised second book of Esmoroth: The Idol Princess Falls was released.

Hazel decided that she would read them to Grace, because it had become obvious that Grace was never going to read them for herself and things were always easier to hear when they came from Hazel. She loved Hazel’s voice. She was able to get both books read to Grace by the end of Spring Break that year. Grace frequently texted Simon her complaints with this Idol Princess and how she was depicted. He was working a lot of the time and grateful of that fact. She wasn’t cool with most of the first book. She warmed up with the second one, EVEN THOUGH the Idol Princess died near the end. Correction: The Future King KILLED her! KILLED HER. He tried to explain that he couldn’t change that portion. That it was important to the plot of the third book, where the Future King would be hunted down because of this murder and go on a journey to bring the Idol Princess back!

It was extremely important.

“Okay, but how does she ever forgive this motherfucker after the way that he turned on her for something that was a misunderstanding?? HE KILLED HER, SIMON!” He knew that most of her emotions were because of who those characters represented. That book sold more than the first one and she found herself in the Esmoroth fandom… at least incognito, seeing that the Idol Princess was actually quite hated and many were relieved of her death. They didn’t know yet that she would be back and it took a lot out of her not to tell those punks! Did they even read the same book?? Simon found her on the porch swing, with her phone, crying.

“Grace…”

“It’s the exile from the Apex all over again.” He kneeled beside her. “They’re treating her exactly like they treated me and what am I gonna do? Get upset over a fictional character? No. I’m upset over the fact that whether she’s fictional, or whether she’s real, this is what people always do. We can’t do anything right.” She wiped her tears. “She tried really hard to make everyone happy and she died trying to help him. Trying to SAVE him, and he purposefully killed her, and they STILL see her as the bad guy. It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the Apex and I’m sorry for the Esmoroth fandom…”

She sighed and shook her head, “Fuck them nerds, Man.” She said. But, she was still hurt. Mostly, because it felt so much like reopening wounds that she thought she had healed from. It got so bad to the point that Simon almost backed out of publishing the last one, but he HAD to publish that one! That was the story of how the Future King was willing to go through every trial and tribulation, face every danger and fear just to get his friend back. What he hadn’t told her was that the character ultimately has to be willing to die, himself in order to awaken her. He had a few different possible endings and he wasn’t sure which one was most sufficient. He figured that might be because his future with Grace wasn’t always very clear. Particularly after he awakened that pain of betrayal inside of her.

The couple’s and group therapy was especially helpful during this time, because she honestly felt unreasonable in how upset this story made her, and had to remember and realize that her feelings weren’t necessarily towards the book’s feedback, but her own unaddressed hurt for the way that she had been treated. Sure, she had forgiven Simon, but at Simon’s initial harm, she had been subjected to thousands of hurtful opinions and harassment. She had spoken to a few people and rectified things - Shana, Simon, her parents… but what about the general public? What about her former “friends” and “followers” online? The people who she didn’t know before who appeared simply to speak on how much they hated a 16 year old girl. The people who made her life hell by forcing their way into her mentions, and into her mind… and once again… Simon, because he KNEW that they would and he KNEW it would hurt, because she had been very open with him at the time that such things were hurting her.

How was she supposed to build with someone who she would apparently for at least a long time, if not forever, she would think about how he tore her down. How he learned everything about her when they loved each other only to use things against her when he thought they didn’t.

Once upon a time, Simon was convinced that he had never done anything wrong in his life and that every time something happened that was wrong in his world, it was because of the people around him doing things to him, which was true in certain cases, but certainly not in every case, and definitely not in Grace’s case… But, once he felt attacked, all bets were off and he wasn’t letting up on her. It reached the point where she wondered if it was her fault and while she suffered her breakdown, before he was ever forced to get help of his own… she had attackers from all sides. Strangers. Associates. Fake friends… And they all rose against her, despite the fact that she was already down and the fact of the matter was and always would be that she was already down because Simon KNOCKED her down.

And… she had loved him through it. She’d always loved him. It was something that she felt so stiupid about for so long, while she was recovering, and for a time, she didn’t feel that way. In fact, as of the moment, Simon had done absolutely nothing to make her recall the hurt. She might have been offset by reading those books, and escalated it by checking out the fandom, but while he would always have a fear of abandonment from his mom or whatever… she was starting to feel like she would always have the fear of his betrayal. She was willing to hear him out, to work on establishing boundaries and rebuilding trust, rebuilding love, but there would probably always be the underlying torment, “I didn’t know how much he hated me, before. How can I ever know that I haven’t made one of his hard to determine mistakes and that he isn’t in the process of making me pay for it?” She asked, crying. “I just… have to trust him… but… I thought I did, then suddenly… I realize out of nowhere, maybe I don’t. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I never will.”

Simon started crying but he put one hand over his face and tried to suck it up. “The worst part is that he’s done nothing to provoke this wave of distrust… so it feels like there's not really anything that he could do to reassure me. He was already in the process of reassuring me and this just arose…" Simon sobbed. "Simon…" he shook his head. "This is what happens. When something comes up, he feels responsible, then I feel bad."

"I AM responsible. It doesn't matter if it was years ago. The damage was done and I'm the one who did it."

"Have you to tried taking some space apart to just be able to find each of your bearings without leaning on how each other makes you feel?"

They hadn't. But, now that the counselor suggested it,they would. Grace worried about Simon… that he might… react. She spent the first few days paranoid, checking behind her and being startled by every surprise sound at home.

During that time, one of her music videos released and the internet was abuzz with the racy nature of her single Lovedrunk Country and certain scenes in the video, including her choreography which included pole dancing, a peepshow setting, and at least one lapdance in which she is seen dancing with her thighs open in the recipient's face.

Someone (many someones) asked Simon what he thought about the video and he said, "It's an incredibly sexy video with awesome costume design and chorography. Who doesn't want to be the guy in the chair?"

She'd warned him whenever they were filming of some of the stuff in the video, but she had forgotten by the time it aired and worried that he might have too.

Grace: Heyyy… How is everything?

Simon: Confusing.

Grace: How do you mean?

Simon: I'm on so much meds right now.

Grace: For what?

Simon: The usual + I'm sick. ☹️

Grace: Do you need some help?

Simon: I don't want to trouble anybody.

Grace: Ummm. Who is "anybody?" Your concerned lovelady is worried! I'm coming over.

Simon: You don't have to do that. I need you to feel safe.

Grace: Are you contagious?

Simon: It's an infection. But… I meant because of therapy…

Grace: It's passed. I miss you, Fool.

Simon: 🥺 I've been miserable.

That happened from time to time. They'd be flourishing. They'd be fine. Then, they'd be frustrated and need to give each other a little room (technically, it was almost always Grace), as Simon really did seem as though he was willing to go through anything just to make sure he was always near her. Sometimes that meant going through time apart from her. But they didn't put their relationship on hold. Whenever they were taking space it was literally just that. Going to their own homes for a little bit until everybody was comfortable again.

By May, Hazel's 11th birthday, they threw the party at Simon's house. That June, Grace's album came out. That July, Mrs. Monroe said that she was looking for a surrogate, so that she and Mr. Monroe could try again at another child. Simon's 24th birthday, he announced that a major studio made a deal with him for the Book of Esmoroth. By Grace's 24th, the Monroes had found their surrogate. That Halloween, Simon and Hazel had dressed as some characters from some sci fi or fantasy world of theirs and Grace was dressed down, in a hoodie and some yoga pants with her fro pulled forward. Because, she was always dressing up and having to look amazing. Halloween was a day that she dressed up by not dressing up at all. Four days later, Simon's dad called to tell him that his mother had "Gone to be with the Lord."

Simon didn't want to go back to her services if Grace wasn't going to be with him. So, her parents kept Hazel while she went along for emotional support… and Simon needed more than he thought he would for losing his mom..

She was "dead to him" long ago. Even in her last days, it was like staring at a corpse that was making groaning noises. She'd lived past when they thought, but she never actually told Simon that she forgave him, and people's insistence on saying that now Faith and Hope were together just made him furious.

He took a leave of absence from work and saw the grief counselor a little more frequently. Grace made recipes she had bookmarked, hoping that might make him feel better on the home front. He wasn't coming out of the house, so she and Hazel spent Thanksgiving week at his.

Hazel wondered, "Are you going to be well enough to cook for Thanksgiving? You might not remember, but you said that you'd make turducken… if you don't… Grace will try… three birds will have died in vain…" Simon snorted and tousled her hair. "She's really worried about you."

"I'm trying really hard to get better for you two…"

"No. That's not what you need to be doing. You need to be trying to get better for you."

"My therapist has told me that before."

"And what? You pay him to not listen to him?"

Simon shook his head, "I don't understand why I'm so sad. She was a bad person who was bad to me. She hurt me and made me as bad as her, maybe worse. Why would I care that she's gone?"

"It doesn't matter why. You do, and that's gotta be okay, because you obviously can't control it. Let yourself feel whatever you need to and try to get better for you. In the meantime, I wasn't playing about that turducken. You… can't let Grace try to take on something like that. She just started making edible food like… this year…"

He cackled and Grace peeked in, "Hey Ho Whoa! Is my loveman feeling better?" He caught her eye and forced a smile. She knew it was fake, but it was the first he'd tried in weeks, so she felt better. Simon forced himself into the kitchen that week to make Thanksgiving happen. Grace and Hazel followed whatever instructions he gave for additional help, and after he was actually up and about making himself useful and spending time with his favorite two people, he felt better too.

This year, he was thankful for another year with them… "Oh God… I let our first anniversary slip by!"

"Simon… I don't know what day that was even."

"November 5th," Simon said. "Because that remember, remember the 5th of November rhyme was in my head…"

"Ohhhh." Grace winced and she bit her lip. "I mean… it makes sense you forgot… the day started with your mom…" Simon frowned. That was the same day?

"SHE. RUINS. EVERYTHING!" he roared. Hazel squealed and fell to the floor. Simon got up and stormed out of the back door. Grace heard him screaming and hitting things and it had been a really long time since he did anything like that. Hazel was crying… so she wasn't a turtle. Grace helped her up and brought her to her room then went to check on Simon.

He was bound to snap, the way that he had been holding everything in all month. He was pacing and she stayed on the porch and observed. "Simon?"

He shook his head, "No. No, I'm not coming back inside like this. "She just… with her last breath had to take something else away from me…"

"She took nothing but her last breath, Si."

"That day can't be special without me having to think about her dying!"

Grace came down off the porch, "That day can be whatever we say it is, because we're still here. She's dead. Her power should be gone, Simon." She offered a smile, then asked, "Did I ever tell you about the first ceremony that Hazel and I ever attended together?" She explained meeting Hazel, and the way that she put everything to rest for her… "I think one of the main reasons that you can't get past this is because you felt like you were supposed to be giving her tribute. You felt like because you were sad and morning that that meant that you had to pay your respects. But when you tried you didn't find any. That's okay Simon. You don't have to pay respects. You could simply send her off with your truth. Whatever that is you've got to face it. you can't bottle everything in and then just explode like that in front of Hazel. She was terrified."

He looked guilty and sad as he rushed back in to apologize. Hazel took it well. And when he mentioned that ceremony of theirs, Hazel and Grace went back outside with him so that he could have his own. It was mostly accusations, frustrations, and some yelling… but he got it all off of his chest, the way that couldn't be done at a proper funeral. After that, he honestly and truly started feeling like his good self again.

By Christmas, as was hoped the previous year, Grace still had him in her life. They did Christmas at his house that year.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #editing later

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yiangchen · 6 years ago

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bellamy and josephine in the woods post 6x08.

title inspired by “please” by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler.

i know where my heart is (with you, it’s always with you)

Clarke has a fresh cut across her forehead. No, Bellamy reminds himself. Not Clarke. Josephine.

It’s all he’s been doing for the last hour, telling himself over and over again that he’s dragging Josephine through the woods. He’s kidnapping Josephine. He’s unintentionally hurting Josephine.

Because if he doesn’t, all he sees is Clarke in pain by his own hand, and his heart aches. He swears sometimes his hands still shake with the memory of what he did to Clarke during the eclipse.

It wasn’t him, but it was some subconscious part of himself. He hates that the bruises on her neck came from his hands.

And the thought of hurting her more, even though this is only Clarke’s body and not actually her but someone else—someone evil—it’s unbearable.

So, when his eyes catch sight of the scrape, one Josephine received during the struggle, he can’t look away. Josephine eyes him curiously but doesn’t say anything.

They’re taking a break now. She’d finally let up on resisting and he’d needed to rest his leg, still recovering from the stab wound he’d suffered during the eclipse.

It’s only a short little while longer to the nearest lab marked on the map, where he hopes to find some information on Gabriel’s whereabouts, but that does little to ease the anxiety thrumming in Bellamy’s veins. They don’t have time for this.

But he remembers a day long ago when he’d tried to go after Clarke on a bleeding leg. He was never gonna be able to get to her, yet he trudged on, grimacing and crying out until Monty finally got through to him. He remembers that day and knows what Monty would tell him today.

Take a few minutes. You need it. If you’re gonna save her, you need to be able to walk.

Monty’s not here, but Bellamy swears he hears his old friend saying those very words and sighs. He’s still looking at Josephine and she’s still looking at him, neither of them having spoken in quite some time.

At last, Josephine breaks the silence, and she almost sounds genuine when she says, “You’re in love with her.”

Bellamy swallows. He hadn’t been expecting her to read him so well, but there’s no denying it, so he doesn’t.

He’s not sure when it happened. When despising Clarke for the privileged princess he thought she was turned to admiring and respecting and loving the girl she really was, but it did. He fell for her, and he fell hard.

He remembers the day he’d first realized—how deeply gone for her he was. He remembers kneeling down and taking her hands in his own and looking up at her as she looked down at him, lips parted. He remembers how broken he was, how broken they both were, and how just one moment like this was enough to reach them both. He remembers it all like it was just yesterday, can still feel the hope that had flooded his chest.

Because the thing is, it’s nearly seven years later, and he loves Clarke Griffin today just as much as he had then. It doesn’t matter that she’s been physically gone for so much of it. She came into his life, worked her way into his heart, and she never left.

“And here I thought you were faithful to that emotionally-stunted spy girlfriend of yours.” Josephine smirks, the facade of sincerity falling from her face in an instant.

Emotionally-stunted. You’re one to talk, Bellamy thinks, but that’s not what really grates on him about what she says. “I am.”

“Yet you love Clarke and not her…How pathetic,” Josephine laughs. “Too bad Clarke doesn’t feel the same way.”

Bellamy averts his eyes. “She doesn’t care about me like that, but she does care.”

“Really? And what makes you think that? Is it that she radioed you every day for the six years you were gone? In case you’ve forgotten, that was before you put the flame in her twelve year old’s head.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“What I don’t get is why you were always saving kids until it came to Clarke’s kid.”

Bellamy scoffs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She left you to die for what you did. She hated you for it.”

“Shut up!”

“She still hates you.”

Bellamy shakes his head.

She’ll never forgive you, Madi’s words echo.

“She forgave me,” he insists, but his voice nearly breaks.

“Did she?”

Bellamy swallows again.

“Then why hasn’t she been thinking of you? There are people inside our mind, people she’s loved and lost. Your sister too. The girl that made Madi her second in a war is more important to Clarke than you. You’ve yet to make an appearance.”

“You’re lying,” he says, and this time his faith in how much Clarke cares for him doesn’t waver.

You’re my family too, Clarke had said to him just a few days ago. I lost sight of that, but I promise I’ll never forget it again. You’re too important to me.

“She needs me as much as I need her. You’re lying.”

“And why would I do that?”

“To mess with me.”

“Or maybe you’re just too afraid to admit that you don’t deserve her. Ever thought about that?”

Yes, he thinks to himself. He has. Over and over again. He doesn’t say it, but the way the muscle in his jaw ticks gives Josephine the answer she wanted.

Bellamy rises to his feet, yanking her up with him. “Enough talking.”

“Sorry,” Josephine says, grinning smugly at him, “Did I strike a nerve?”

Bellamy pulls her along. “I said enough talking.”

Josephine goes willingly, coming to walk beside him and not even bothering to fight back physically. That’s never been her strength. Messing with people, however, that she’s good at. Bellamy was right about that.

“She’s not the only one doing the leaving. Is she now, Bellamy?”

Tension rises in his shoulders, but he just swallows hard and tries his best to ignore her.

(It doesn’t work.)

“If anything happens to me—” she teases cruelly, and Bellamy feels his heartbeat pick up, tears gathering in his eyes, “Nothing is happening to you.” Josephine lets out an amused laugh. “What a lie that was. Tell me, did you even try to save her?”

Bellamy says nothing, taking in a steadying breath. His heart is pounding.

“Did she know when you held her as she cried that you’d leave her in a heartbeat to save the others? Or when you were flirting with each other about oxymorons and you wiped the cold sweat from her forehead?”

The memory flits through Bellamy’s mind.

Grounders in space—it’s an oxymoron.

Survival’s a team sport, especially up there. It was the only choice...Only choice—also an oxymoron by the way.

So is cold sweat.

Bellamy shuts his eyes.

“One second you were pathetically into her—anyone with eyes can see that,” Josephine laughs, amused at the reaction it provokes out of him. He’s not saying anything, but he’s keeping it all in, and that tells her everything she needs to know. She’s getting to him, just as she got to Clarke. It’s working. “And then the next, you let her go alone to realign the satellite dish, and then you left her to die and didn’t look back. Because Raven, Echo, Murphy and Emori are your family, right?”

Bellamy winces. He hadn’t meant it that way, but it’s how Clarke took it, and that breaks his heart, but still, he stays quiet.

“What really kills me though is that you were just so convincing. The pain in your eyes when she told you to use your head—” Bellamy finally huffs out a watery breath. It’s too much. “Man, if you were an actor, that look right there would have received an Emmy…” She lowers her voice, down low as to imitate him, “I got you for that—”

Bellamy snaps.

He turns to face her so suddenly she swears he must have broken his neck, but his hands are around her throat. “Shut the fuck up!” he cries, livid, but his voice breaks with the emotion in it.

Josephine chokes on a breath, but she’s still smiling, and it infuriates him further, though his hands don’t tighten around her neck. They can’t.

Josephine gasps and laughs weakly. Bellamy releases her. He has to turn away when a tear slips down his cheek, the cord to Josephine’s restraints long forgotten.

And that’s when Josephine makes her move, aiming a kick at Bellamy’s injured leg before she takes off running. He cries out in pain, clutching at his thigh. “Shit,” he groans, and then he’s after her.

His leg is burning as he catches up with her, but he does, and it’s about to collapse on him when he leaps forward, taking her down with him.

Somehow, she winds up on her back as he lands on top of her. Breathing heavily, he lifts his head to glare at her, jaw clenched and lips pressed in a hard line. A suggestive smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. “This is hot,” she says, reaching out a hand to brush the curls from his eyes, and he jerks away from her touch. “Clarke doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Bellamy huffs, beyond aggravated, and roughly grabs at her jacket to yank her up as he rises to his feet, Josephine smirking at him all the while.

“You know, I think the two of us could be the best of friends when this is all over. A lot can happen in a day after all.”

“For fuck’s sake, do you ever shut up?”

#bellamy x josephine #bellarke #i love soulmates #bellarke fanfiction #s6 #post 6x08 #the 100 #my writing

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iamthekingofsass · 6 years ago

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This is part two of my Skyrim 2019 modlist. You can read part one right here. As mentioned in the previous post, the list had to be separated due tumblr’s ‘link limit’ on posts & pages.

Part two will cover all the gameplay type of mods, such as perk alterations, magic, quests, game stability & improvement ect.

Gameplay

Achieve That

Alchemist Compendium

Alternate Start - Live Another Life

Become a Bard

Better Stealth AI for Followers

Better Vampires

Better White Phial Effects

Book Covers Skyrim

Buyable Golden Claw

Campfire - Complete Camping System

Character Creation Overhaul

Crimson Tide - Blood

Equipping Overhaul

Fast travel timescale fix

Follower Commentary Overhaul

Guard Dialogue Overhaul Redux

Hide Those Futile Quests

Holidays

Immersive Cheat Menu

Immersive Sounds - Aural Assortment

Immersive Sounds - Magic

Immersive World Encounters

Improved Combat Sounds

Improved Dragon Shouts

Jaxonz Utilities

Lanterns of Skyrim - All In One

Lock Overhaul

Mannequin AI Fix (Complements USLEEP)

Missives

Modern Brawl Bug Fix

Moonlight Tales - Werewolf and Werebear Essentials

Mortal Enemies - De-aimbot Your Foes

PC Head Tracking and Voice Type

Plantable Jarrin Root

Player Voicesets

Project Ultimatum - Gameplay and Roleplay Enhancement

RE - Real Estate

Real-time Dragon Fast Travel

Relationship Dialogue Overhaul

Safety Load

ShowRaceMenu Alternative

Signature Equipment

Simply Knock

Skyrim Wayshrines

Sleep Tight

Sneak Tools

Specialized Followers

Tentapalooza for Campfire

The Big Book of Alchemy v2

The Choice is Yours - Fewer Forced Quests - Improved Dialogue Options

Timing is Everything - Quest Delay and Timing Control

Trade Routes

TTYM - Think To Yourself Messages

Unofficial Skyrim Legendary Edition Patch

VioLens - A Killmove Mod

Wearable Lanterns

Wet and Cold

White Phial Realignment

Housing

Breezehome TNF - Elianora's Flavour

Immersive College of Winterhold

The Rookery - Bard and thief loft in Solitude

Thief's Hideout Ultimate (Basically any housemod that Elianora made)

HUD

A Matter of Time - A HUD clock widget

Customizable UI Replacer

Display Enemy Level

FileAccess Interface for Skyrim Script

JContainers

Less Intrusive HUD II

moreHUD

moreHUD Inventory Edition

SkyUI

Widget Mod

NPC & Followers

Immersive Citizens - AI Overhaul

Interesting NPCs

Meeko The Husky

Miraak - Dragonborn Follower

Perks & Other alterations

Andromeda - Unique Standing Stones of Skyrim

Archery Gameplay Overhaul

Complete Alchemy and Cooking Overhaul

Ordinator - Perks of Skyrim

CACO-Ordinatored

Nock to Tip

Werewolf Perks Expanded - Dawnguard

Quests & Other

College of Winterhold Entry Requirements

Cutting Room Floor

Enhanced Skyrim Factions - The Companions Guild

The Paarthurnax Dilemma

The Paarthurnax Ultimatum

The Second Great War

Thieves Guild Requirements

Magic

Air Atronachs

Apocalypse - Magic of Skyrim

Dwemertech - Magic of the Dwarves

Enchanted Arsenal

Enchantment Reload Fix

Lost Grimoire of Skyrim

Shadow Spell Package

Spectraverse - Magic of the Magna-Ge

SpellShots

Spellsword

Summermyst - Enchantments of Skyrim

Thunderchild - Epic Shouts and Immersion

Weapons

I also use Dual Sheath Redux and have installed patches for the weapon mods I use. Those can be found back on either the mod page itself, the DSR page or this mod A Lot of Dual Sheath Redux Patches

CL's Ebony Weapon's

Aetherium Armor and Weapons

Black Sting

CL's Chillrend

Dwarven rifle 2nd Generation

Descaled Uniques

Faction Crossbows

Ghosu - Auriels Crossbow and Swords

Ghosu - Auriels Quiver Replacer

Insanitys Celtic Katana

Isilmeriel LOTR Weapons Collection

Kthonia's Unique Weapon Pack - Dragonborn Weapons

Lore Weapon Expansion

Lost LongSwords

Royal Armory - New Artifacts

The Sword of the Eternal Phoenix

The Witcher 3 Weaponry

Unique Bows Collection

Unique Uniques

Valiant Nord Bow

Weapons and Armor Fixes Remade

Zim's Immersive Artifacts

So that’s about it kiddos!

If there are further any questions, don’t hesitate to shoot them in my direction. I will gladly answer what I can.

#skyrim #skyrim mods #the elder scrolls #tesv #modlist #long post

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callsigndreadfrost · 5 years ago

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Ooooh ok ok thank ya for alla this, tho yaint gotta tldr things for me XD I looooove the details n such lol. Alright follow ups, how do the werewolf transformations work? Full moon? At will? Both? How about like, pack structures? Like, does everyone part of a particular breed stick together? Is it just small groups that does? just whatever a particular wolf wants? 1/2

Noooooo, thank YOU for indulging me! 💞💞💞💞💞💞

Right so werewolf transformations are visually, physically and audibly gruesome. This is a curse, a punishment therefore it's horrible. The werewolf will feel and hear their own bones cracking and splitting to realign themselves, muscle will stretch to what can feel like beyond the breaking point. Worst part is the werewolf is very conscious during it. After fully transformed it may take them a minute or two to catch their breath. Changing back to human form is equally as exhausting and they'll need a bit more time to catch their breath.

They can only* transform under a full moon. As soon as the moon rises till it sets. Clouds blocking the moon don't hold off or make 'em turn back. Long as the moon is out and is full the transformation will be forced.

*during the middle ages a group of familiars (people supporting and losely associated with Legion. Familiars that have been supportive for a specific amount of time can have the choice to join full on. Or stay as Familiars. Your choice.) took to sheltering werewolves down in Spain when a group decided to make werewolf hunting a sport. It was all fine until each full moon.

Werewolves completely lose all reason and will attack any human in sight whether a life long friend, loved one or relative. So they had to lock them up for the night and it was both humiliating and inhumane and no one was happy about it. Especially when the locked rooms were getting crowded.

So after a lot of studying and experimenting they managed to find a loophole to their dilemma. In comes a talisman made of meterorite that can hold off a transformation AND allows the wearer to transform at will. It also makes the transformations a little bit less painful especially for bitten werewolves since those born as werewolves don't experience that much pain but it ain't by much.

Anyway, once it was tested and proved to actually work Legion stepped in and paid the group for the discovery and reimbursed all the time and materials they spent on it as well as crafters and other people to work the material into jewelry that werewolves could wear without raising suspicion and made sure to distribute it for free to werewolves all over the world. In the modern age werewolves could get a bit more creative like making it a piercing like Mason did, keep it as jewelry as Angelus does or even make it into dental grills (I think that's what it's called) like Trevor did on his fangs. The talisman was called Moonbane.

There's a huge drawback. The longer a werewolf wears the Moonbane the far more wild and violent and completely off the walls rabid the werewolf will be during the full moon that they don't have the Moonbane on them. So not a good idea to ever remove it from their person.

Some dumbasses don't like to wear it because "it's not natural", "I got it under control", "That's not how a werewolf should live" and most often than not it ends up really bad for them 🙃

Now those that do wear it and transform have been shown to be more mmmmmmmm reasonable? Yeah. They're calm and colleted and don't just attack and can be reasoned with. It's just that even after all these centuries there is this fear that they might not be all there and they might attack.

No matter if I ever indulge myself and draw Jelani hugging a transformed Angelus because I think it's cute as fuck or Trevor resting his head on Loke's lap or anything nsfw for those of us monster fuckers out there it would still be "dangerous".

As for pack structures there really isn't one. 1. I never liked that whole "alpha" joke of a theory which has been disproven time and time again and 2. I like focusing on them as people. People of different cultures and backgrounds, people of different ethnicities, sexualities and identities it just so happens that they're werewolves. I like to focus more on say Trevor, as an example of one of my werewolves, as a person. He's a cisgender man, pansexual, aromantic, loves aviation, can pilot almost anything, is one fucking hell of a crackshot with any sniper he gets his hands on, Black, competent, confident, and loving. It just so happens that he's a Silver Sight (one of the breeds).

I do have that each breed takes something from the original werewolves themselves. Like for example Outsiders tend to be overbearingly proud type of people. Howling Ghosts have a bit of an intimidating presence. Silver Sights are kind of the tall, dark and mysterious types. Mist Walkers are more athletic and outdoorsy. There's just one Crossed Breed so I can't say much on one individual only.

Also they ARE drawn to each other out of some kind of "same hat" bond. In the modern age there's no like "coven" or group or what have you. There used to be and it got to be a serious problem because they didn't want to mingle with each other. That mentality is traced back all the fuck way to the first werewolves. They were cursed because of a war that four different armies were involved in and after being cursed they all just stuck together 'cause they were all bitter towards each other ESPECIALLY Howling Ghosts and Outsiders. Stupid mentality of "we're at war with these guys over here" passed down from one gen to another. But with each new gen it watered down to the point where it's almost nonexistent because holy freaking crap that war was over like +50k years ago.

There's also the fact that depending on the breed was were they would've preferred to live but this was like back when the werewolf first appeared until let's say people were traveling. Howling Ghosts would usually be found in mountains and in cold areas, Outsiders lived in desert and arid like areas, iirc Silver Sights mostly dwelled in caves and Mist Walkers lived in valleys. They're physical looks backed up where they lived like HGs have really thick double coats--there's a post here with more in depth info on my werewolves. I'll dig it up.

#Legion tag #theonedayking #reply

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emblem-333 · 5 years ago

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Who’ll Be Bernie Sanders’ Running Mate?

If nominated Bernie Sanders would act as a pallet cleanser for the big tent Democratic Party currently made up of poor, middle, working, upper, and professional class. While their Republican counterparts since the 1960’s have relied on disaffected white voters in the south, obvious vitriol for POCs. Regardless of how vile the Southern Strategy is, you can not deny it’s been a winner for the GOP. Sanders, a Democratic Socialist senator from the state of Vermont, doesn’t appeal to the wealthier brackets of voters. His call for raising taxes to facilitate his tentpole policies, like Medicare-For-All, Free College, and the Green New Deal, make the professional class uneasy. For those wishing for moderate reform and not a revolution, they flock to Massachusetts senator Elizabeth Warren after all of the Joe Biden alternatives faded off into obscurity.

We are beyond the stage of the race where we can say “It’s early.” It is no longer early. Though not a single state has voted you can assume the three names that’ll cling to relevancy until the Democrats convene in Milwaukee in July of 2020 is Biden, Sanders, and Warren. Thought to be hopefuls like California senator Kamala Harris saw her campaign disintegrated after Hawaii’s representative Tulsi Gabbard shined a bright light on Harris’ dark history as attorney general.

"I'm concerned about this record of senator Harris. She put over 1,500 people in jail for marijuana violations and laughed about it when she was asked if she ever smoked marijuana," Gabbard said at the debate.

She continues, "She blocked evidence that would have freed an innocent man from death row. She kept people in prison beyond their sentences to use them as cheap labor for the state of California, and she fought to keep cash bail system in place that impacts poor people in the worst kind of way."

The attack came out of nowhere. Neither candidate appeared to have any crossover with one another. Gabbard supporters are few, mostly online. Harris’ base is made up of rich, white liberals left over from the previous election when they unilaterally supported Hillary Clinton. In the previous debate Harris appeared to have launched herself into the top tier of candidates after boldly going after Vice President Biden for his opposition to school integration via bussing. Now most of Harris supporters are in the pocket of Warren. Meanwhile, Gabbard’s campaign failed to qualify for the third debate and looks ready to saunter off and exit stage left. Gabbard is an interesting character, one with many flaws and also great convictions. It is unclear whether the future for her is bright, dark or merely dim like most failed presidential candidates.

Sanders recently enjoyed a quiet post debate bump in the polls currently he is tied for first with Biden in the crucial primary state of California (voting March 3rd) at 26 percent apiece — senator Harris sitting pathetically fourth with 6 percent. While Biden stumbles and speaks incoherently just about everything, Warren dithers on the core tenants of the progressive movement, Sanders stands strong as the flag bearer of the elixirs that might cure this decaying body of an empire we call the United States.

Of course, we’d be naive to believe Sanders merely winning the plurality of the pledged delegates warrants his nomination. If neither candidate crosses the 1,885 delegates voting goes to a second round where a plethora of unpledged delegates, dubbed “Superdelegets” get to play a key, if not the biggest role in naming a nominee. If Sanders manages to wrangle the nomination from the cold, near-dead hands of Neolibalism virtually nobody would want to be anywhere near his campaign either out of not agreeing on political ideology or the common consensus of the party insiders that his campaign his doomed for historic failure. The ghost of George McGovern still looms large inside the psyche of many Democrats while the losers who posed themselves as moderates (Carter, Dukakis, Mondale, Gore, Kerry, H. Clinton) rarely get mentioned.

Usually, a running mate is chosen as a political strategy. Sometimes the candidate is from a swing state. Tim Kaine was from Virginia and didn’t bring much to the table other than he could potentially deliver the state to Clinton. But seeing as political realignment is a certainty in a Sanders vs Trump general election, it’s safe to assume Bernie, given his advanced age, will pick someone who is ready to succeed his movement if tragedy were to befall him.

The question is who? Most Democrats are conservatives on many issues, and shamefully act as Warhawks when they believe it to be politically expedite. Youngsters like Beto O’Rourke and Pete Buttigieg are diametrically opposed to Sanders’ in ideology. So is Harris.

Many believe Sanders’ running mate is likely to be Warren. The 2nd most progressive member of the United States Senate. The problem using this label as a benchmark is it’s pretty low. Warren is a fine, upstanding senator of a state susceptible to turning red when a seat is open. Scott Brown upset Martha Coakley for the vacant Ted Kennedy senate seat in 2010. Governor Charlie Baker trounced challenger Jay Gonzalez in his re-election bid. Right now right-wing Democrat Joe Kennedy owns up to $1.75 million worth of stock in oil and gas companies like ExxonMobil and Chevron is challenging one of the Green New Deal’s strongest advocates in junior senator Ed Markey. Massachusetts is a relatively liberal state, but unknowingly flirts with neoliberalism daily. Warren needs to remain in the Senate not just to preserve the seat, but as a vote for Sanders’ agenda.

Warren is also problematic for her poor political instincts, her DNA fiasco and pledge to take corporate donor money once the primary is over.

Going down the list though you are hard pressed to find better alternatives.

Jim McGovern, 59 (MA-02, Worcester)

Rashida Tlaib,43 (MI-13, Detroit)

Tulsi Gabbard, 38 (HI-02, Honolulu)

Elizabeth Warren, 70 (MA senator)

Mike Capuano, 67 (MA-7, former)

Ed Markey, 73 (MA - State Senator)

Russ Feingold, 66 (WI - Senate)

Ben Jealous, 46 (Gub. Candidate Maryland)

Jamie Raskin, 56 (MD -8 rep.)

None of these names fuel the lust young people have for the complete upheaval of America’s capitalistic society. But the Democrats of the New Deal generation are either in their seventies or too young to run for President. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York is the only self-identifying socialist politician and she legally cannot run until 2028. If elected to serve two terms Sanders would only preside the Oval Office until 2025 leaving a gigantic window of opportunity for neoliberalism to shuffle back into the Democratic Party and retake it.

It is truly a fascinating quandary what the second era of “BernieCrats” would look like, if the first one is legitimized in Sanders ascension to the presidency. Perhaps Gabbard will have molded herself into the complete progressive package people want to see in a potential successor. As of now, Gabbard stands as one of the most dovish voices in a political system overwrought with bloodthirsty ghouls. That’s not to see she is always against military intervention. Gabbard’s language specifically states she is against “regime change war” not total American conquest to facilitate the empire. Her ties to the right-wing leader of India Narendra Modi, while a member of the Gujarat Legislative Assembly he is thought to be complicit in the killing of nearly 2,000 people (790 Muslims) in the 2002 Gujarat riots. Gabbard’s remained silent on the issue and appears to have tied herself to Modi.

Other issues is her unwillingness to come out in favor of abolishing private insurance. In her defense, every candidate (including Warren) quiver at the idea of cutting the Goliath that is the healthcare industry down to size.

Massachusetts Representative Jim McGovern is a lot like Gabbard without the baggage. McGovern is also better on the issue of immigration. Gabbard says we need to have stricter border laws. McGovern voted against various legislative efforts to restrict immigration. A vocal critic of the Iraq War, McGovern was one of the few dissenting votes, and pushed then-president Obama to provide a draw-down plan in Afghanistan.

The issue with Gabbard is it is potentially too soon to anoint her the successor to Sanders’ movement. If fortunate to serve eight-years The reign of Sanders could reshape the image of how conservative Democrats present themselves to survive in the new political climate. Harry S. Truman was a conservative southern Democrats known for union-busting before the reign of Franklin Roosevelt forced him to pivot to a moderate New Dealer to secure re-election. Perhaps after some time has passed Gabbard will join AOC as a fellow crusader for the Green New Deal, legislation Gabbard hasn’t said she supports. On the other hand, Gabbard did propose the “Off Fossil Fuels Act” and stood with Water Protectors at Standing Rock. There’s an activist inside her at war with her inner conservatism.

Noticeable omissions are Massachusetts representative Ayanna Presley, and president of Our Revolution Nina Turner. Pressley, once a Clintonite who dismissed Sanders’ ambitious plans as unrealistic found herself in a primary with entrenched progressive incumbent Mike Capuano winning solely on the fact she was a fresh face in a time when people believed leadership was getting too stagnant. But Pressley is no friend to fellow Justice Democrat Ilhan Omar. Pressley cast her vote in favor of Resolution 246, which condemns the Palestinian call for global solidarity in the form of boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS).

Turner is a fire breathing progressive, a wonderful surrogate for Sanders and spokeswoman for his movement. Truly a fantastic organizer I don’t know if Sanders is smart to “promote” Turner to V.P when having her remain leader of Our Revolution or appointing her as his Chief of Staff would more than suffice.

Representative Rashida Tlaib is an under the radar candidate sure to galvanize an already energized base. Talib is an advocate for Medicare-For-All, the minimum wage to be raised to $18 to $20 an hour, and is for the complete abolishment of the Immigration Customs Enforcement agency. She is relatively young and inexperienced. I don’t know how’d she fare on the national stage.

Former president of the NAACP and previous Maryland Gubernatorial candidate Ben Jealous is widely known amongst progressive circles online and is highly regarded. As an organizer Jealous helped register over 370,000 voters to the polls for the 2012 presidential election.

In his bid for the governorship many labor and progressive groups issued early endorsements of Jealous, including the American Postal Workers Union (APWU-Maryland), Communications Workers of America (CWA), National Nurses United, the Maryland State Education Association, the Service Employees International Union (SEIU), UNITE-HERE, Democracy for America, Friends of the Earth Action, the Maryland Working Families Party, Our Revolution and Progressive Maryland.

Jealous won his party’s nomination running on a platform that included free college tuition, legalized marijuana, universal health care, and a $15 minimum wage. A small caveat is Jealous shrunk when an analyst for Circa News described him as a democratic socialist, referring to himself as a “venture capitalist.” Many progressives are hung up on Warren describing herself as a “capitalist to her bones” is the initial source for many Berners reluctance to switch their support.

The drawback to picking Jealous is he potentially can win the governorship in 2022. Jealous came in a respectable second to popular incumbent Larry Hogan 55 to 43 percent. Hogan is ineligible to run for a third term leaving Jealous in prime position to win the next time. Progressives will need to infect the legislative body with as many antibodies possible to pass a progressive agenda. If the political landscape looks different in 2024 or 2028 then progressives can afford to pluck repression liable to Republicans or Neoliberals.

If Markey is defeated by Kennedy in his primary then Sanders might as well call the 73-year-old and see if he isn’t ready to retire. Markey is more progressive than Warren. Markey is the biggest cheerleader besides Sanders for AOC’s Green New Deal. He is possibly the best candidate to assume the role of president of Sanders is unable to complete his term for whatever reason.

Plus, you wouldn’t have to worry about losing a progressive vote with Markey as it is sadly likely Kennedy will unseat him. Kennedy is outspending him under the table and leads already by double-digits. Massachusetts Neoliberals are very good at their jobs: stopping progressives.

#bernie2020 #bernie sanders #alexandria ocasio cortez #Ed Markey #2020 election #running mates #free coinage of silver #sailboatstudios

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wildlyfamousmusic · 5 years ago

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Another message to Webweildingavenger

Bullshit.

You are essentially arguing that if Gwen Stacy came back and the Green Goblin killed her but it was ‘different’ that’d be okay, even though it’s literally the same versions of the characters. I’m not even talking about an AU or an adaptation I’m talking about Sandman having TWO heartfelt sombee death stories in his canonical biography. This may surprise you but most people die just the once in real life, therefore that should ideally extend to fictional characters intended to be reflections of us too.

Uh huh. And just because Sandman is dying, doesn’t make this story any less bad nor intriguing. Infact, it could be a heartfelt story and one that could serve an importance later on or at least an impact.

Killing off Sandman is inherently stupid in the first place as you are removing one of Spider-Man’s more memorable villains off the table, but literally having the same concept behind the story is asinine.

I don’t see the point. Sandman could be dying. Or at least lead to something interesting that could serve Spidey and him. Something to do with that depending on what the story may take. It’s not as bad as randomly killing off characters good or evil in poor taste unlike the previous run.....

This isn’t like Hunted where killing Kraven again for starters wasn’t the same concept but more specifically was a means to an end, that end being course correcting the fact he ever came back.

Yep. That was the best part. This however is different for a story like Sandman compared to others.

With Sandman Zdarsky, as is routine with him, arbitrarily ignored whatever he wanted and ploughed on ahead with HIS version of Sandman’s death rooted in the same concept.

Same concept with an interesting idea. Whatever Flint was going through compared to his other experience, it could lead somewhere.

So what’s next?

Are we going to go ahead and accept Aunt May finding out Peter is Spider-Man again if it ignores that she already knew or indeed that she finds out after she finds him beat up and they have an issue long conversation about it? Will it be okay for Kingpin to target Aunt May prompting Spider-Man to kill him again?

None of those would likely be what Sandman had gone through. Whatever Aunt May’s death would be, it should be a satisfying and impactful end to her character.

“Really,it honestly shows you have some kind of feelings towards Zdarsky.”

a) Duh I hate his work because it sucks shit and

No, not really.

b) I can say the same of you in the opposite direction

“Ho early, his work had been great under Spidey.”

No, it absolutely has not. As I’ve pointed out time and time again it’s shit.

And your reasons weren’t good enough nor really fair and I brought up how they were. you just didn’t respond or accept it.

"Honestly, Nick Spencer is great. But,even his stuff has problems.”

Never said it didn’t. I critiqued Hunted and his second issue and his latest issue in fact and even the issue where MJ opens up to the therapy group.

Yes, he has some good stuff and great stuff. But, his strength his missing. He needs to put in more of those strength.

But there is a difference between having problems but being good on balance and killing off Sandman AGAIN, having Jameson find out AGAIN but ignoring what happened the first time he knew, establishing Spidey has a secret agent secret sister from his secret agents parents’ secret pregnancy and having an embarassing lack of knowledge about how the Cold War worked!

Stuff with Jameson was not how we wanted. But, it’s a start. And the stuff prior to it like his annual was fine enough. Teresa was one fans from what I’ve seen wanted back and were interested in see how much she could play into the mythos. infact, it would not be just Zdarsky who would find her interesting but so would Nick Spencer, Gerry Duggan, Donny Cates, and may other writers.

“Like, some of his stories aren’t strong enough. Even Hunted which had a strong beginning and end had a pretty weak middle that was holding back on things.”

The middle wasn’t weak, it had weaknesses that’s not the same thing.

Weak, Weaknesses, same thing. And if you read my previous message you would understand why. It didn’t feel like the horror survival that it could. It felt like it was holding itself back. just putting some filler HU like Vulture. The middle could’ve been stronger if it felt more like a horror survival.

Game of Thrones had a strong start but grew weak in the middle and ended weakly. The Infinity Saga had weaknesses at various points but none of the 3 phrases were weak. See the difference?

Game Of Thrones was a series with plenty of episodes that had 8 seasons. Infinity Saga had a strong beginning, middle, and end with what has been given to us. Hunted is an arc that had a strong beginning and end but had a weak middle for many reasons like it didn’t feel horrifying enough, the HUs like Vulture weren’t strong enough, the deaths in the survival weren’t hard hitting aside from Gibbon, things with Vermin before the end was bizarre, everything in the middle felt like it was holding back.

“Really, as much as Nick Spencer is bringing things back, his writing isn’t really shown the same when it comes to the level of quality like Zdarsky and even Donny Cates.”

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Okay I loves Cates and I’m not going to criticise him. His work is very strong. As strong as Spencer’s? I’d say just different, neither better nor worse. I think some of the concepts he comes up with could be communicated a little better and he ignores continuity to an extent but the continuity he ignores in his Venom run is stuff that’s already a mess anyway.

Yeah, That strong.

As for Zdarsky ***** please.

Zdarsky is a better Spider-Man writer than Spencer.

Let’s put aside how if that’s true it’s incredibly unlikely that Spencer would’ve gotten that gig instead of Zdarsky. Zdarsky was popuiar at a time when Spencer was reviled. Zdarsky had well recieved work on actual Spider-Man projects whilst Spencer merely had Superior Foes, an acclaimed book not actually about Spider-Man and circa 2018 a long since cancelled title.

How the flying fuck exactly can Zdarsky, the dude who literally IGNORED Jameson’s decades long characterization, his co-writer Slott’s own continuity regarding the mind wipe AND mere 10 year old continuity, be doing a good job?

Be better than Slott. you see, for a while, we had so much bad stuff from Slott that he basically nearly ruined everything that made the Spider-Man Mythos so unique and brilliant. Zdarsky was the guy to help fix things for a while with better writing, impactful stories, brilliant handlings of the characters, and a much more satisfying end to his run before Nick Spencer took over to fix things and bring some interesting stuff as well as Tom Taylor who mostly has some good stuff and sometimes not and Donny Cates who’ve brought some interesting things. Same with Saladin Ahmed for Miles.

Do you get it? That’s OBJECTIVELY BAD writing!

Read my previous post ontop. No, it’s not. It’s Really not.

Spencer meanwhile went ahead and refamiliarized himself with most Spider-Man stories, used that stuff and generally keeps it in line, keeping everyone in character and consistent to their established characterization.

yes, but while he does that, what I want is better and stronger writing. What he needs is to make things stronger. Because if there were ever story arcs we would expect in the near future, he needs to make them stronger. And so far, his 2099 arc seems to be that/

When he killed someone off a second time he did it with the explicit intention of fixing the fact he ever came back and acknowledging the prior time he died. The story was also different in concept to the original, not the same general idea at all.

Same with Zdarsky. But, the story with Nick Spencer was a very brilliant conclusion to Kraven and a brilliant take on the story at the end.

Zdarsky had Spider-Man go on adventures in time travel and alien crap before following up with the single most overrated Spider-Man mini/AU of all time where he systemically wrote Peter, MJ, and indeed most everyone out of character and failed to demonstrate even basic knowledge of real life history.

Aliens and other stuff. But, it did give The Tinkerer a very interesting take making him relatable to his views on humanity and an interesting backstory when he confronted Spidey at the end. Plus, the time travel stuff was very well handled bringing in some interesting stuff, emotional and impactful moments, some interesting results, and some brilliant high end struggle. The stuff was bizarre but handled well. Especially with what it’s like meeting your past self and fix all those mistakes and teaching him to be a better person.

The stuff with the Nukes was already explained and the stuff took place while the heroes were in Secret Wars.

Spencer in contrast deconstructed Peter’s character in 5 issues before reconstructing him and realigning him at the very least closer to who he is as opposed to what Slott, the BND staff and yes Zdarsky himself contorted him into for over 10 years.

No, Zdarsky did him well before Nick took over. He just made him more competent before Nick fixed his life. Like I said, woth Zdarsky, Peter

Made sacrifices for himself

made a villain a better person.

ouytbested the other heroes and foes.

fought off against a team of SWATs while they were gonna bring harm to his neighbors if he didn’t show.

turned himself in to save his Aunt May

Nearly risked his life to save all life

taught his younger self to be a better person

Gave Sandman the opportunity to have his final moments even nearly revealing himself especially since he sees the good in Flint at the end like he always had

Get treated with respect from the other heroes instead of being made fun of or look like an idiot

the final issue of his run.

stuff like that before Ni9ck took over. See what I mean when I said you ignore most pf what Zdarsky did. and compared to the likes of Slott, Waid, Bendis, and the others during BND, Zdrasky did it better. Better before Nick Spencer took over. Better before Sean Ryan took over. And as good as Donny Cates got involved.

Nick was fixing things and did some good and great things. But, compared to the strength in quality, it hasn’t picked up yet. And since his issue 29, Absolute Carnage Tie In, and first chapter of his 2099 arc, it looks like it’s starting to pick up. And what Nick needs is that level of quality in his work.

Shit dude, Spencer even USED Zdarsky’s own continuity better than he did in the Lifetime Achievement arc where he gave us a potted summation of exactly who Jameson is!

No, not really. His Jamson arc was good. But, like I said, the quality of his work needed to be stronger.

Zdarsky throughout his run has REJECTED the idea of the wider Marvel universe intruding upon Peter’s adventures and thereby making him look weaker and less competent as a result. Zdarsky WASTED a 300th issue on that and followed it up with a shitty Black Cat story.

HOW? He bested both TChalla and Hawkeye making them look like fools, he bested the Six, tried to outbest The Tinkerer, Beated Norman Osborn while trying to save his Aunt May and his younger self, made the boldest sacrifice in trying to stop The Tinkeer, made the Tinkerer into a better person connecting his essence with his, bested Norman’s police force, bested the SWAT team while he was on the run and while his neighbors were at risk from them, gave Sandmam his final moments. Please. Tell Me. How Did He Make Peter Entirely Incompetent The entire time. Because From What I’ve Seen, He Made The EXACT OPPOSSITE. I can expect a few hang ups from Nick’s take. But, neither of them were incompetent at all. it just shows you have some problems with Zdarsky overall. And whatever that is, you need to deal with that.

Also, his Black Cat story was suppose to be a gag issue. Infact, it was a Parody of Tom King’s Wedding arc of Batman and Catwoman in that exact moment Bruce proposed to Selina. Look it up.

Spencer took the Gibbon and in one issue wrote one of the best single issue Spider-Man stories of this decade. Zdarsky decided to take the Tinkerer and retcon that he WAS in fact associated with aliens, an idea so stupid Lee and Ditko distanced themselves from it and other better writers further buried that idea in the 1980s.

The Gibbon issue was good. But, Zdarsky made the thing with The Tinkerer better making him more relatable as well as getting some personal backstory he held for so long.

Shall we compare their pet projects? Okay.

Life Story vs. Superior Foes.

On the one hand a side splitting story that develops a C or D list character into a fan favourite and on the other a story that is so idiotic it thinks that that America wouldn’t simply win the Vietnam War if they had fucking superheroes on their side!

Nick made that work. So did Zdarsky, infact, many writers can make many C and D list characters better.

So….Spencer is worse than Zdarsky how again?

Not to mention btw, it’s pretty weak to try and build up Zdarsky by throwing shade at Spencer.

You make it li9ke you claim Spider-Man wasn’t better until Spencer took over which isn’t really the case especially with the @#$% Bendis, Slott, Waid, and the rest had given us before Zdarsky took over. So saying a brilliant writer handle come to fix things hadn’t existed is pretty insulting. Especially since a writer like Spencer, while he is fixing things, hasn’t reached to the level of quality it needed to be. And so far, his issue 29, Absolute Carnage, and 2099 were the strongest we’ve ever gotten in a while. I don’t hate Nick Spencer nor do I find him anything bad. What I want is that his work needs to be in the level of Quality as it should.

“Honestly, the best one he had since his first 4-5 issues of his ASM was his Absolute Carnage Tie in.”

a) There were 2 tie-in issues

Yes, both good.

b) Many people, myself would argue ASM #29 was better

29 was great. But the tie ins were an improvememt.

c) Even if one disagrees with that ASM #29 is simply different to the Absolute Carnage tie-in issues as they are distinctly different types of stories

d) Even if those WERE the best that doesn’t support any kind of argument against Spencer because 4/5 of the last 5 issues were good, just because one or two of them were the best of the bunch doesn’t discredit him. Shit the last 5 issues weren’t even BAD!

I’m not saying the last 5 were bad. The Syndicate arc was a bit weak but good. But, it’s not up to the same level of quality as issue 29, Absolute Carnage Tie In, and 2099 later on.

e) If hypothetically the Absolute Carnage tie-ins WERE the best issues he did out of the last 5 how does this devalue Spencer? Spencer made 2 issues hijacking his book due to an event, in which the inherently asinine idea of Norman as Carnage was a thing, work to exceptional effect. That doesn’t devalue him that shows you how skilled he is.

Yes, that’s what I meant when his story on that was the best. And his 2099 seems to be reaching there as well.

“Honestly,he has alot of stories to unfold in the future. And if he continues to hold back on them,then he Really needs either a co-writer or just put more thought into them.”

Please. Just cut the shit okay.

You are at this point dissing Spencer who doesn’t deserve it (’he needs a co-writer’ my ass) to build up your favourite horse.

I’m not dissing him as a writer. I Want him to be greater. I Want him to reach that level of quality. If you ignored a previous writer’s best work and said none of the stuff ever happened Before that writer showed up even though that writer’s quality is not up to par, it’s not only ignorant, but, also insulting. After all this time Spider-Man fans suffered, saying this type of @#$% is insulting. And Really, I Want Nick Spener to Reach that level of work. And if we ever get to a very important story arc or more like with some very important ones like Goblin, Kindred, Otto, and stuff, then Nick Spencer NEEDS to put in that same level of quality. otherwise the whole thing would suffer and be for nothing.

#hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger #nick spencer #chip zdarsky #donny cates #spider-man #spider-man 2099 #goblin #jj jameson #tinkerer

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