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willshipanything-blog · 8 months

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Breaking the Rules- Chapter 22

We're here!!! A million apologies for the delay, but I hope this (almost) final chapter was worth the wait. But wait there's more!- hoping to post 2 cute epilogue sections in the next few days- so keep an eye out.

Dove needs to find a way out of the basement. And that's the easy part. After that, she needs to convince Al that doing the right thing isn't always the right thing. Can Al and Scout have any semblance of a happy ending together?

Full tags, as well as the fic if you prefer, is on AO3 here. As usual, minors please DNI!

Full Tumblr chapter index can be found here.

Chapter 22- Hang It Up

No. It can’t end like this. Not after everything. No. Nonono.

You never imagined, after every battle and brawl, every taboo and crossed boundary, every promise made, broken and renewed again even stronger, that it would end where it started. You, the Grabber’s victim, trapped in his basement. The only difference was this time, you weren’t holding out hope for someone to rescue you. The thought of somebody coming to ‘save’ you from this situation, lifting you out of these depths, was the worst, most horrifying outcome.

You didn’t need to be rescued. You’d already rescued yourself. Falling in love with Al was its own kind of escape. Unorthodox as it was, implausible as that escape route may have been, you’d tunneled your way out of the Grabber’s lair and into Al’s heart. Al just needed to be reminded of that fact, before he did something incredibly, incredibly stupid. But that required an escape that looked all too impossible in your current situation.

You’d been struggling in your bonds for what felt like a lifetime, but the sliver of still-rational thought in your head knew it had been mere moments since Al had shut the basement door behind him. His lingering, morose look was imprinted in your mind, hanging there starkly like a developing photo in a darkroom. However, the less rational and more instinctive side of your brain was in control, and it had kickstarted a panicked response in you. The shock and brutality of Al’s actions had your chest constricting painfully, the tight feeling further spurred on by the tight bite of the tape around your wrists and ankles, chafing and unyielding as you struggled against them. Your throat burned from the useless, unheard (or else purposefully ignored) cries behind the gag.

For a moment, the floor seemed to shake beneath you, the stone walls cracking in lightning-shaped fissures, the room spinning. It was all too much, but that still lucid part of your mind flared up, urging a message to the forefront of your thoughts. Stop panicking and think, or it will all be over. You nodded, as if answering your own plea. You stilled your body, closed your eyes and took in one long, inhaled breath.

I have a little time. Not much, but a little. That was your first deduction- Al would need to prepare the house first. He’d written out his confession, laid out evidence on the kitchen table as casually as serving up eggs and bacon. But he hadn’t wanted to reveal those things too soon, and there would be other things he’d need to organize in the house- hiding photographs and clothes, possibly. That would take some minutes, you concluded. Your sound reasoning was reassuring, and you could feel your body relaxing, thinking better for it, even if the thoughts were tragic.

How did I escape before? Retracing previous steps might provide a way out of the situation. You’d tried to run before- not possible in your bound state. You huffed a shaky breath out through your nose, thinking harder. You couldn’t fight Al- he was always too strong- had already used that strength to overpower you now. Another breath, trying to steady the panic returning to your body like a rising tide. You’d used your words before- but impossible now, when Al had left you voiceless and alone. You scrunched your eyes tighter, refusing to admit how terrible things truly looked. It had been a long time since you had felt so desperately, utterly helpless. Not since your last visit to this basement had things looked so impossibly bleak. When you thought Al was going to kill you, then had become even more terrified when he’d turned the knife on himself and-

the knife!

Your eyes popped open with a renewed sense of clarity. That knife- it had never left this room! In all those months since that fight, neither you nor Al had revisited the basement. The knife must still be here, tossed away and forgotten. You tried to think back, your head scanning furiously around the concrete cell- where had you thrown it in frustrated relief the last time it had left your grasp? Was that a faint glimmer in the dark shadows, under a tangle of metal pipes in the far corner of the room?

Despite your bonds, you managed to roll yourself unceremoniously towards the corner, ignoring the pains in your body as you inched nearer within a few moments. Pressing your temple to the floor, you peered under the rusted pipework to see- YES- a silver gleam of the knife, a beacon of hope in this dark situation. Heaving yourself to a sitting position, back to the corner, your bound hands scrambled blindly behind you until a cool press of metal touched your fingers. You grabbed the knife, relieved tears falling down your cheeks as you worked quickly to cut free the tape binding your wrists together, the pain of the awkward maneuver and your injured finger forgotten in the adrenal rush of it all. Your wrists tore free, and in another instant your legs were unfettered too. You ripped off the tape over your mouth and sprinted towards the basement door- mercifully, miraculously unlocked.

This was no covert escape; wild desperation to get to Al had feet pounding up wooden steps, slapping across the linoleum of the kitchen. You swung on the door jamb, careening into the living room as your feet finally thudded to a halt when they hit the shag carpet. Al was already watching you as you flew into the room, sitting in his chair with the phone receiver to his ear and fingers tracing the dial with unthinkable purpose.

“Hang it up!”

Your frantic entrance must have been quite the sight: your wild-eyed expression; the tear-streaked face; the bloody, bruised state of your skin; your chest heaving and entire body thrumming with fury. Still, if he was shocked, Al hid it well beneath that well-rehearsed iciness. Eyes never straying from yours, he set the phone's handset in its cradle. He stared silently a moment before those blue eyes flitted downwards. By instinct, you flicked your wrist under the burning cold of his gaze, letting the smooth handle of the knife soothe your shaky palm. You had barely registered that you were still holding the blade, but you were glad for it now, twisting the handle like a ritual to check the strength of your grip.

You didn’t dare let out a breath. There was no relief to be had- Al hadn’t followed your order to hang up the phone because he’d changed his mind. He was still adamant on that insane task, you were sure. But he wouldn’t use the phone while you were in the room. You, ready to fight and scream, ready to do anything to ensure he couldn’t dial those three little numbers to end it all.

Al gave a soft sigh, audible even across the vast expanse of the silence between you. It seemed sad in tone, as if Al would have to go through the motions of locking you up all over again. But you weren’t about to let that happen.

You’d been through too much together. Had traversed this fucked-up, beautiful relationship like a midnight van ride through a dark tunnel. And you’d nearly made it out to the other side, nearly securing some semblance of a happy life together, the light at the end of that tunnel within reach before Al’s confession had stalled that journey. Each hopeless second he’d tried to put his plan in motion, the light had grown dimmer. Everything moving in reverse, back to a time before. But you weren’t going to allow Al to convince you it was all an illusion. Not when you felt, deep in your soul, that all of it - every second, every smile, every scream of pain and joy - was all real.

If Al locked you up again, there would be no knife to facilitate an escape. You needed to show him the truth, needed to talk to him. Your words had always been your biggest weapon against him, would be more powerful and effective than even a knife in your hand. But where to start?

Al seemed about to make a move to stand up. Panicked, you blurted out:

“You don’t have to do this Al!”

You cursed the generic remark, but hoped the conviction and belief in your voice outweighed the cliched expression.

“Oh, but I do, dove. I do.” He tiptoed his fingers across the smooth plane of the phone’s handset. “I need to show you I can do the right thing.”

His tone was too matter-of-fact, his pose too casual, still sitting on the armchair as he spoke, as if capturing you would be the easiest thing in the world. Because it would be. That strength, which could be so comforting and assuring in its protectiveness, was cold and lethal when it needed to be. If it resorted to another physical skirmish, you weren’t ever going to win.

Keep talking to him. Make him see.

You needed to use your power to dissuade Al from this path, like sucking the venom from a snakebite, removing the poison that had infected his mind. You just needed those compelling words- hard to come by when your mind was reeling with fear and fury. But you pressed on, desperately hoping there was still a chance to change his mind.

“You’ve shown me that, Al! I know you would’ve done it, given up everything we have to do what’s right. It’s just-” your voice faltered, your own imminent confession caught in your throat. “I don’t want you to do the right thing.”

One of his hands gripped the armrest, nails clawing into the fabric as he spoke through gritted teeth. “DON’T paint yourself the villain here, dove. This is my decision, because those were my sins. My crimes.”

“They’re mine too, in part. It’s shared, Al.”

“You’ve done nothing-”

“I’ve done enough wrong!” you snarled, angry now. “How dare you think it okay to make that decision alone, to take away my choice in all this?”

Al looked once again like he’d been about to rise, but your outburst seemed a physical blow, the force of your words pushing him back in his chair. That spark of power in your words made manifest. You had to keep going.

“You took away my choices once, Al. I lived with that, did what I needed to survive, played the game. Until things changed between us, and you gave me back my autonomy. When you pressed that key into my hand, told me to run- what did I choose, hm?”

You might have given a hollow laugh at the silence that followed your question. At how troubled Al looked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, jaw clenched in disquiet. Because answering honestly would be admitting that you truly did love him- something he was desperately attempting to prove otherwise. You answered for him.

“I chose to stay. You finally gave me the choice, and I stayed.” You didn’t pick the word ‘freedom’. Deciding to remain with Al- it might have been freedom, or else the choice to remain bound to Al. You weren’t sure what distinguished the two, but you kept on. “And now, you’re going to take all the options away from me, as if I’m back to being your prisoner?”

Al was refusing to admit how much you liked the inky blackness of him - how much you swam in it, relished it, devoured it. But his brow creased. His eyes turned towards your hell, your prison of a basement, and you knew - Al was doubting everything. He took one last, long sigh, as if his opposing thoughts were warring with one another, until he blinked and a look of clarity washed over his face. One of the thoughts had won out. But which? Was he going to accept your plea, and allow things to carry on as they had been? Or was he determined to bring it all to an end?

He gently placed the white phone on the armrest of his chair, the gesture a glint of hope on the horizon, as if your plea had turned the tides of his grand scheme. But your heart sank in those choppy waters when Al reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a set of handcuffs and rising from his seat. That preternatural swiftness ached like an approaching rip current, ready to drag you down into the depths of the basement one more.

As Al stepped forward, you countered his movements, feet stumbling on the thick carpet as you backed away from his approach. He paused, and you realized you’d raised your arm on instinct, the knife clasped tightly in your fist pointing right towards his chest. Could Al be persuaded with violence? You didn’t think so, but you flexed the blade in your clammy hand nonetheless. An attempt to stem the shakes that threatened to show just how terrified you were - terrified of what mad act you might actually commit to stop Al’s own lunacy. You’d match his insanity if needed. His true equal in madness: wasn’t that just more proof that you belonged with him?

“Dove, we already did this dance once before. We both know you won’t kill me. But if you want to try again, that story could work.” Al huffed a sad hum of laughter. “Hey, that’s not a bad ending- finally killing your captor after months of torment.”

You were right- violence held no power, not when Al cared so little for his own life. But then- what did he care about enough to stop all of this? That question had a simple answer, evident in Al’s widening, fearful eyes as you brought the knife up to your own throat, the jagged ridge of the blade’s edge skimming your jugular.

“Drop that right fucking now.” A command spoken so sincerely, but the trembling fear in Al’s voice was palpable. He’d held up his hands as if to stop you, but had frozen in a surrendering gesture, clearly petrified that you were putting yourself in such danger.

“What do I deserve, Al?”

“You deserve to be happy, dove. To have a proper life-”

“I am happy,” you interrupted, “And I have a life here with you. If we were apart, I’d break, Al. Do you understand that?” you choked out as a single, hot tear slid down your cheek. “I’d rather be dead than without you.” You began to sob, your quivering hand scraping the blade against the delicate skin of your neck, but the near-lethal abrasion was a necessity to keep Al at bay. This wouldn’t end with him clasping those cuffs around your wrists, hauling you back into the basement and untethering you from him completely.

“Please, little bird. You’re going to hurt yourself, and neither of us want that.”

You weren’t going to relent with your argument, but that nickname he’d just used had lit a flicker of warmth inside of you: comforting, soothing. The side of you that wanted to be Al’s good girl obeyed a little, and you inched the knife away from your skin, though the weapon remained clasped in your shaky fist.

“Even if I won’t hurt myself, I’d be good as dead if you continue down this path,” you croaked, the tears flowing faster now, your fear and desperation nearing its limit. “What do you think happens if you do this? What happens when I go back and hate everything about my old life, because you’re not in it?”

A life without Al in the picture- it would be as colorless as those monochrome childhood photographs of him. As miserable as some of those memories, too. You took a breath through your crying plea, but Al chose not to fill the silence. He only tensed his hand slightly, the morning light catching the silver of the cuffs held in his grip. Almost as if to tell you ‘go on’. Almost like Al needed more of a reason to stay, more reason to throw away the morality he’d so recently found.

“I can’t live outside these walls, Al. I’ve changed too much- you’re not the only one who’s a different person than they were before we met. If you let me go, I’ll give up trying to live any sort of life.”

A flash of…something blazed in the blue of Al’s eyes. Was it a softening, a promise of this madness relenting, or him building up that steel wall to hide his emotion? Uncertainty surged through you, but it was worth the risk to keep going. Sink or swim.

You approached slowly, warily, as you might a scared animal. But a scared animal was a dangerous one, and you had the knife still clutched in your fist, ready, should Al make a sudden effort to restrain you. But he remained fixed in place: not inviting you closer, but not warning against your approach. You crept one hand upwards, tucking back a stray wisp of his hair that had fallen in his face, trying not to wince as your disjointed finger brushed the ashy hair aside. He shifted- trying to tug his head away in spite of himself- but remained, only his brow furrowing at the tenderness, the sweetness of it all. This was familiar. You’d been here before, months ago, on the other side of such a gesture. Violence had met warmth, mania had met calm.

Shakily, you moved your hand to Al’s cheeks, pressing a blood-stained palm into the unshaven skin, thumbing away the tears that kissed your fingertips. You tensed your shoulders when his own started to shake, but you forged on.

“You don’t need to protect me from your past, Al. I’m not the Grabber’s victim. But I’m yours.” You saw the puzzled glance through the burgeoning tears and cupped his cheek harder, thumb holding his chin, forbidding him from turning away from what he needed to hear. “The Grabber took me, hurt me, but I survived. But Albert Shaw was the one who kept me, loved me. I’m in love with you. I’ve fallen victim to you completely.”

You dropped your hand. Al inhaled a gasp as the biting clicks of the handcuff’s metal teeth sounded, and he looked down to see where you’d fastened one of the hanging bracelets around your own wrist. Al looked mutely at where you’d tethered yourself to the cuffs in his grip. Not diving to lock the other half around your arm, not wrestling you to the ground.

“I’m your responsibility. You made a promise to look after me and you can’t run from that.”

“I- I feel like I’ve broken you,” he said on a shaky breath.

“If you have, that’s your responsibility too. To put me back together. But we both know I won’t ever be whole again without you.”

“Is it- you can’t- no- it’s just like I said,” Al grasped to find his argument, trying to find some footing to hold onto, to make it sound as though he still had any choice in all this, as if you hadn’t determined to stay no matter what. “I made you feel that way-”

“Enough!” you barked, baring your teeth in anger. The darkness you’d witnessed a thousand times had manifested in you, and you adopted it willingly, an inherent part of your bones and blood and soul now.

“You forced me into that basement. But you never forced me to like it. Maybe I could have fought harder in the beginning-”

“Don’t say that after I forced-”

“No! You know it’s true. Even from the start, that first time. I didn’t hate it entirely. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. Not completely. I allowed you in when others would have rather died. I kept letting you in deeper, until I allowed your feelings to come out. Remember I asked you to admit them? I wanted you to say those words. Don’t you see, Al? You’re my victim too. You’re my victim. And I’m not letting you go.”

Another clank of metal, and you’d hooked the remaining cuff around Al’s wrist. As the band snapped shut, you swore the breath that Al let out was one of relief. But if any doubt remained, you’d need to slam that door shut and lock it with a final thud and click.

“I swear to god, Al. I’m keeping you.” You flicked the knife up to his neck, jagged ridges almost bursting skin. The living veins beneath the blade thudded audibly with fear, with regret, with anger, with love. All of it a part of Al, and you loved every drop of it. Owned every drop, too. If any of it spilled, it would be by your hand only.

You continued your threat, no mistaking exactly what you were capable of if he ever tried to separate the pair of you.

“If I have to lock you in that basement, I’ll put on that fucking mask and be your captor. Because you’re mine, Albert Shaw. All mine. Do you understand?”

A heartbeat passed by in silence. Then another, then another. You counted the seconds ticking by with each pump of venous blood that passed under the blade’s scrutinizing watch.

Then came the crash. In a single rush, Al had collapsed to the floor, dragging you down with him. You felt pressure everywhere, being gripped, held, swallowed whole by his presence as he cried and grasped at you. Bruises and bloodstains, tears and torn clothes. The knife had been lost in the fray, falling unseen to the floor with a smattering of blood upon its edge. A tumultuous cumulation of it all, but one constant that you heard above the din; Al’s soft voice, his repetitive chant

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A plea for forgiveness, a desire for retribution? You’d give him anything. You’d give him everything you had- your whole being, your freedom. Your life. It would be worth it. Right now, sobbing in your arms, you’d give him comfort. As his head burrowed into your neck and chest, you kissed the top of his head, softly, tenderly.

“Come on,” you rasped, letting Al’s body shake with tears. They swam and caught along the edges of your torn shirt, dripped onto bare, bruised skin. Al hiccuped and gasped in your hold, twisting your hair, working to wring clean the years, the hurt, the pain.

“I don’t know what to do.” He was that lost little boy again, hurt and scared and hopelessly outmatched by the crushing weight of a cruel, unfair world.

“You don’t have to do anything, Al. You’re safe, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“But I’m-” Al croaked meekly.

“Sh, sh, shhh,” you hushed. You gently brushed a finger over his lips. “Don’t try to speak right now. We’ve got time to talk later, alright?” You tried your best to lull your voice like a rhyme - like a mother hugging the bogeyman away.

As the tears faded, as Al’s breaths became more steady from your assuaging lullabies of soft shushes and kind words, you guided his shoulder away from you, needing distance for him to see this. You were spent from it all; a pleading expression and a final appeal the only thing you had the energy to muster:

“Al, look at me.” He obeyed. “Will you stop this? For me? Let us be happy.”

“But the things I’ve done-”

“You’re not that- that thing anymore,” you sat up on your knees, raising a hand to press against Al’s cheek once more, cupping it tenderly. “The Grabber? That was your creation, and you’ve killed it. It’s dead. But you still have a life here, Al. If you throw that away, you’ll be ending more lives than your own today.”

That argument, you knew, was flawed. Al had been the Grabber. But you spoke as though the Grabber was a separate entity entirely, a demon possessing Al against his will. For all that had happened to Al, there must have been some madness, some disease, that rotted and spread inside him, eventually causing those monstrous crimes to occur. It felt too much like an excuse- but you would excuse the worst sins to live with the man who, in your eyes, had finally wrung that evil from his bones.

Because that’s who was here, in the flesh, in your hold at this moment. Unmasked, vulnerable. Just Al. He gave a small smile, flexed his cuffed hand in a half-circle to grab your smaller hand in his. Al dared to let his gaze meet yours, red-rimmed eyes against black-bruised fatigue. It was almost too much to see: all the confusion, the anger, the hurt buried there. But you rode it out, looking, seeing it all there, as he saw the hurt and anguish in your eyes too. There was no haunting specter hiding behind that vast cerulean sea, just the occasional ripple of darkness that would remain with him forever, that reminder of his crimes.

Al dug into his trouser pocket, handing you the small silver key with which to unlock the handcuffs that connected you. They jangled as you unclasped the bracelets before falling quietly in the plush carpet. They weren’t needed to stay tethered to him anymore.

“Do we deserve a happy ending?” Al whispered, his now-free hands commencing that habitual rhythmic stroking, thumbs bumping along each fingertip. You reached out, touching softly to still the nervous spasm, squeezing a little until watery blue eyes looked into yours.

“Deserved or not, it’ll be our ending. To me, Al, you’re a good man. That’s all that matters, right? You and me.”

“You and me, dove.” His lips quivered as attempted a soft smile, trying to fend off the last of the heavy, sobbing tears. The expression seemed bittersweet; hopeful, but still possessing a streak of melancholy. You’d used most of Al’s old tricks against him to win him over- a little mischief, that hint of devilry, was in your repertoire too. You adopted a sing-song lilt of your own:

“Y’know, if you’re really that upset, I’ll let you put the handcuffs back on me.”

A croaky chortle from Al, his throat still raw from cries, but the humor diffusing the tension a little. You smirked at Al and the start of that sideways smile began to unfurl on his lips as he drew closer. You inched forward, lips parted, ready to-

BRRIIIIIINNG!!

The sudden ring of the phone pulled you and Al from the depths of your intense gaze, like an unwanted alarm clock waking you from the most sublime dream. The shock of the shrill ringing had you gasping, and Al’s startled reaction had him jumping madly, knocking the phone off the armrest when he jerked in surprise.

The muffled clatter of the telephone landing on the carpet halted the noise of the ringing, though you looked in bewilderment at the floor where it had landed, still discerning a faint noise emanating from the handset.

“hello? hello-oo. anyone there?”

The subdued voice, currently addressing the shag carpet, was unmistakably Max’s. You breathed a relieved sigh, looking up at Al through still-teary eyes. From his incredulous look (his blue eyes glossy with tears too), he’d heard his brother through the phone. As if Max had been affronted by the confession that it was just the two of you that mattered.

“Hey, uh- anyone there?”

“Max!” you yipped, scrambling to pick up the handset before he hung up on the other end.

“He-ey, Scout! Think the line went a little fuzzy there. Listen, I thought I’d bring some pizza round later. Just checking- you’re gonna want extra mushrooms, right?” The casualness of the conversation, in such contrast to what you and Al had been discussing, was a little jarring, and you stumbled a little before replying ‘yes’.

“Gross, but I thought so. I’ll get one with slugs on it and one without, then.”

You barked out a laugh, though the sniffles accompanying it seemed to tell Max you’d been crying recently.

“Hey, er, Scout- you good? Doing ok?”

“Yeah, I’m doing ok.” As you answered that question- honestly, you realized- your eyes strayed back to Al, who was watching you intently. “We’re both doing ok, Max.” Al’s eyes softened as you narrated that statement to his brother; voicing that the two of you were ok now, sharing that fact outside your tiny bubble for two, was like an extra fortification that things would turn out good.

“Aw, that’s real good to hear. I was worried when you two took off yesterday. I know things got a little heated, but ya know you can talk to me anytime- you both can,” Max chattered on, each kind word and affectionate promise bringing more small tears of joy and relief to your eyes. “My brother’s lucky to have you, ya know?”

“He has you too, Max. We both do.” Al’s mouth quivered as you spoke, realizing you and Max were talking about him.

“Aw, Scout, you’re too sweet, you’re gonna make me cry! I’ll see you later, ‘kay? And you tell that brother of mine he’d be stupid to let anything happen between you two.”

“Here, I’ll put him on Max- you can tell him yourself.” Max’s voice wavered a little down the line, as if wary to admit such an earnest confession. Similarly, Al leaned back as you held out the phone receiver, palms turned out as if apprehensive about taking the call. If the brothers were reluctant to talk to each other, you’d just have to give them a little push, a little encouragement. That’s what families were for, right?

You thrusted the phone into Al’s hands despite his protests, your fingers brushing his as you passed it to him, giving an encouraging nod as he brought the handset to his ear. A faint buzz told you Max was speaking a mile a minute on the other end, with the occasional gruff response from Al in short bursts of ‘yeahs’ and ‘sures’. The only real indication the two were speaking about something raw was the single, dewy tear that glided down Al’s cheek, which he rubbed away with the back of his hand as Max carried on speaking. Al said a few more short replies:

“I will. Soon. Yeah, I mean that. Ok, see ya Maxie.” A short buzz down the line as Max spoke, followed by the briefest of silences before Al replied: “Love you too.”

If the use of Max’s childhood nickname wasn’t enough to have more tears falling down your face, those last three words Al sent down the phone line ensured it. You scooped up the base of the phone from the floor, holding it out to Al, who placed the receiver carefully back in the cradle, where it clacked into the holster with a final trill as the call hung up. You rose on your knees, eye level with Al, who smiled softly before putting the phone on the armrest once more, staring longingly at you a moment before pulling you into a tight embrace.

Your arms came up behind him, gripping at the back of his silky shirt, as if ensuring that yes, truly- Al was really here with you. You were unsure how long you stayed in Al’s grasp, but any time would feel too short after the paralyzing fear of losing him. To be held captive in his embrace was the most free you’d felt in a long, long time.

It had been drizzly and gray in Denver, much like any other day this late into fall. Looming clouds, holding a promise of thunder, rolled in with the late afternoon dusk, a pewter sky hanging heavy over the city. As you and Al looked out the window onto the rain-splattered street outside, you wondered if the weather was a bad omen, or a renewing baptism. You supposed neither mattered too much, not if Al would be beside you.

“What do we do about that?” Al asked softly, nodding his head out towards the view in front of you both. The house across the street was framed like a tragic painting by the window pane. The gnarled tree in the front yard held its branches aloft as if shrugging and you silently agreed: no one could really answer such impossible questions.

“There’s nothing to do. Except let it be a stark reminder for us. Another consequence we have to suffer for staying.” There was no running or hiding from the past. No pretending that those things hadn’t happened, their existence false.

“We?” Al turned his head in your direction. You mirrored the action.

“We.”

The pair of you returned your focus back to the house, and you forced yourself to think about what lay inside. You hated how those crimes were almost an afterthought in the shared decision to stay. You still felt a deep sorrow- a visceral, aching thing- when you thought about those boys. The pain you felt was deserved, the cost of choosing to stay. But you knew you were guilty of putting your own emotions ahead of any morality you still possessed. As much as the pity and remorse ate away at you, as much as you hated the things Al had done, those feelings were weaker than the love you felt for him.

A small nudge against your thigh; Al had reached a hand across the small space between you. You gripped it tight, fingers interlacing with his. That connection as unbreakable and binding as steel cuffs; fortifying, comforting.

You and Al were the same- you’d determined that a long time ago. But now, you’d truly accepted the darkness that lay inside you, rippling just under your skin like black veins inked into your body. It would reside permanently beside the light and goodness you still knew yourself capable of. Just as it did in Al.

Not wholly good. Not wholly bad. But okay. That was enough, for you and Al. It had to be. It was all you had. The drowning depths had almost dragged you both into endless oblivion. But if you both swam through those dark waters together, holding each other afloat, it would be okay.

It would always be okay.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the black phone #albert shaw x reader #black phone fanfic #albert shaw #the grabber x you #albert shaw x you #the black phone fanfic #black phone

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planefood · 9 months

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hi. i might be going crazy but if i'm not and i recall correctly; a couple months back or so you made a post talking about why you chose the city you did for your ocs and why it didn't take place in america. as a non american who fell into the weirdly common thing of making ocs that are american i really resonated with that post, i've been looking around for it and i can't find it. so i wanted to ask if you deleted it? it's 100% fine if you did i get it. i just want to know if its gone or i should keep looking around for it because of infamous tumblr search broken. thanks :-)

Okay this is tough because my tumblr has a tendency to just, hide posts of mine in the archive or tags (grrr) but I also delete posts a lot if I feel like I was overly emotional in them or if its just stupid tagging garbage but I might've deleted it because I wrote that when I was really upset, I know a lot of people related to it though so i'm really sorry to you guys! I might rewrite it more succinctly if I have the energy but the point in that old post still stands I suppose Sometimes I worry I come across as too patriotic or even, god forbid... "kiwiana" kitsch which would be a NIGHTMARE for me even if most of my followers wouldn't notice something like that. I also don't wanna give off the impression that my work is only for a small population or that I "hate americans" if I don't word it well enough. I probably only feel an obligation to write how I do because I fought so hard feeling recognised for my background after I moved here that feeling it happen again when I speak to people outside of NZ stresses me out. I'm glad other people resonated with it! But me getting so emotional over it isn't what I'd call a typical reaction idk. Really its more out of frustration, I feel like I'll never truly feel at home in any part of the world for multiple reasons, somewhere where I can feel comfortable relating to people just because we're from the same area but that's not really true. I was an outsider in Japan and I felt like an outsider living here. Moving to a bigger city didn't provide me much comfort as I still feel like I'm not apart of the "in group". I know people who haven't even moved countries like me will probably feel this (esp if you follow me cause no regular person would follow me tbh) thats the frustration I try to capture with my writing that I hope more people to can attach to than just "this is Aotearoa bitch!!!!!!!!!". I feel love and also a lot of rage for this country. My stories are less of a love letter for it and just auto biographical, some parts are cozy and nice but a lot is pretty rough and stressful. There's still the kid in me screaming "I WANT TO GO HOME!" all the time while I live here, back then "home" would've just been back in Japan but now I don't really know what that "home" is. I find solice in my characters trying to figure that out too

#ask #my stories rarely feel like they capture authentic nz to me sometimes but idek what that is really #I was gonna go on a rant about how much I hated this country growing up because of how ppl treated me + everything being different #but that can be for another day

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yukipri · 2 years

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Hi! I'm currently rereading the Prime Override (I really love the story!) and m trying to get a more thorough understanding of Jango in this story. I'm currently stuck on one Canon scene and was wondering if you could elaborate Jango's thoughts there for me?

In canon, on Geonosis, Jango joins the battle attacking Mace while he's lost his lightsaber - likely bc a) hatred and b) convenient target since apparently less defense.

However, Jango in the Prime Override has pretty much lost his hatred instead of a thorough dislike. So, does this scene happen as in canon and if yes, what's his reasoning for joining the battle in this way (instead of possibly going for Boba and leaving) - a mix of anger (for being menaced beforehand) and fear (lightsabers are dangerous, but this Jedi doesn't have one right now)? Is he currently feeling more hatred than usual bc he prepared for being near Dooku? Something else I didn't think of?

Also, how does he think about that move afterwards (if he does at all)? Regret (maybe that wasn't the best move he could have made), annoyance (for dying to a Jedi), or maybe indifference (he was supposed to die at some point for the contract, after all)?

I hope this is something you can answer without spoiling anything to come in future chapters in some way.

Also, I really wanted to tell you how much I love your OC's (especially Ashe and Stabber) and positively flailed over the Stabber perspective last chapter XD I kinda want to give him aaaalllll the hugs 😂

I hope you have a lovely day/evening/night/whenever you see this, and take care!

Sorry for the late response! It's been a very rough few weeks for me, and I can't always guarantee I'll respond to Tumblr asks in a timely manner unless they're urgent, especially if they require any thought or a lengthy response, like this one.

At the time of his death in the Prime Override (and tbh, this fic mostly consists of my headcanons for canon), Jango doesn't actively hate the Jedi enough to go and kill them just because of it. He does dislike them enough that if given a good reason, he wouldn't hesitate to kill one if the opportunity arises. He is also heavily relying on the fact that both Tyranus and Sidious believe that he despises the Jedi passionately, and he uses this to hide his true endgame motives while working with them.

So tbh, while I don't consider this moment crucial to the Override plot atm, I think his actions make perfect sense within its context, for the following reasons:

1) On Geonosis, Jango is standing directly behind Tyranus (Dooku), and the entire arena execution was extremely public, so he could safely say that Sidious was also watching. So, Jango would be expected to act the way they expect him to, which is as you say: like he hates the Jedi and wants to kill them.

2) When Mace first appears, he, without prompting, ignites his lightsaber at Jango's neck. Jango was not aggressive or posing an active threat at the time; he was watching the arena with his bucket off, and Boba was right next to him.

Threatening Jango alone, publicly and in front of Jango's employer, is probably more than enough incentive for Jango to go after him. But that's not all; if you watch the scene, you'll see Boba jolt back away from the tip of the blade, and then run behind Jango. I'm sure Mace knew he was there and wouldn't have hit him, but from an outside POV (and that of a protective parent), that laser sword came awfully close to stabbing Boba, and that fact alone, Jedi or no Jedi, is probably plenty of reason for Jango to target Mace specifically.

3) While the lightsaber was held at Jango's throat, Mace's warning/threat is directed at Dooku, Jango's employer. Jango is, in fact, not on Geonosis for kicks and giggles and for introducing Boba to the joys of public executions. He's there on the job, to provide security for his employer. His employer is threatened, it's his job to get rid of the threat. The most clear threat is Mace.

4) Jango isn't stupid, and knows who the top Jedi is. He may or may not know about Dooku's history with Mace personally, but he's no doubt aware of the Head of the Jedi Order. If there's one Jedi of most "value" that the Sith would like killed, it's probably Mace.

Should note, that for a supposedly Jedi-hating guy who would love to kill them all, Jango doesn't start firing at the Jedi when they come pouring out into the arena; he stays back, only shoots Coleman Trebor when he lands on the viewing booth to attack Dooku since again, it's Jango's job to protect his employer.

Seeing Mace potentially at a disadvantage seems like both an opportunity that Jango must take, to keep up appearances, but is also the most convenient target, given both his prestige and the fact that he threatened Jango in front of Boba and Jango therefore has no guilt in killing him. If anything, the fact that Jango only goes after Mace instead of trying to kill as many Jedi as possible seems to give the "he doesn't actually want to massacre the Jedi" theory credence, at least to me.

Lastly, this isn't really much to do with Jango's reasons for killing Jedi or no, but I should mention that in the Override, Jango did have specific orders to get himself killed. Part of this is admittedly me trying to justify why Jango would take such a risk/not put up a better fight and live up to his reputation, but in general the characters in my head are a lot more competent than they're portrayed on screen. (I have similar justification headcanons for why Boba went out the way he did in ESB lmao)

I feel like I didn't answer all parts of your question, but I hope this answers enough and gives you some food for thought! If this moment does become more relevant to the Override, it will be covered in greater depth there.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work and reading my story!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

#YukiPri replies #thePrimeOverride #shirokage218 #Jango Fett #AOTC #Mace Windu #Star Wars #headcanons

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papirouge · 1 year

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I like to think I hold some trad values but I feel some disgust over girls on platforms like twitter and tumblr trying to claim being pro patriarchy. I just don’t feel bad then when they get shit from men and complain about it when they act nasty towards girls. Or whine over feminism and women working then try to start their own business online because it’s “different” than working a job. The true trad women I’m around aren’t even online and have no idea what is Elon musk is. I’ve never heard them complain about feminism being a mistake or why women need to praise men for being men every day. Or why we must wear skirts and heels all the time to be feminine or how we have to be sexually available all the time (a lot of these account straight up sound like bots or fetish accounts run by coomers right?). The majority of them will also praise just European history and cultures, there’s so many white pride people in those communities. The husbands of the trad women I know are providers and kind, condemn racism and abuse. I just really hate how trad values are being sold by idiots online that are so insecure, rude, attention seeking and gross when real people living these trad values are the complete opposite. It’s about community building.. and making perfect sourdough bread from scratch 👌🏿

Honestly I'm still not over the cognitive dissonance of claiming being a "trad woman"/anti feminist and owning a whole girl boss business platform/YouTube 🥴 (JustPearlyThings is precisely like that!!) shouldn't you be hiding in the kitchen if you looooove the trad lifestyle that much? 🙃

And yeah, I've always said true trad people were off the grid. Knowing how to use twitter or knowing who Musk is an instant LARPer give away. Boastfulness isn't very trad as well and screams terminally online behavior - not trad.

I cringe at those tradfem channels with ridiculously curated videos. And as someone who's vlogging I can't tell you that this level of content (whether in quality as well as posting schedule) asks A LOT of logistics - so this whole smol cabin far away from technology shtick they're pulling out is fake as hell🥴

And yeah, I got shit for saying that neither make up or heels were tRadItoNaL. TRADITIONALLY speaking, those assets were the prerogative of PROSTITUTES. So these people clearly don't know what "tradition" even is. They just like an aesthetic, which is fine, but don't rewrite History and act like this shit was "traditional" it's not. Heels, shaving and make up have been normalized since less than a century... Ironically enough, radfem (so FEMINISTS) fighting against make up and shaving are closer to true tradition than these trad LARPers are 🥴

These weirdos will use 50s-60s ads and think they represented reality.... When these ads were pretty much are close to reality to today's ad - the same ads those trad simps complain of promoting an "agenda"....as if ads from the 50s-60s didn't promote any agenda already 💀fkzlsalxnn4be THEY ARE SOOOOO STUPID, I CAN'T.

And yeah, trads (especially euro trads) have become VERY defensive of their White culture lately. I mean, good for them? I don't really care tbh. But it's funny to see White eurotrad seethe ay immigration seeing it's going to dilute their good aryan genes when immigration ≠ racial mixing. But by automatically linking those 2, those scrotes are betraying their insecurities about foreign males breeding with their aryanwifu. Sorry but you can't force people to make children with you ; so if White people breed with foreigners that's with their consent. So what these eurotrad scote fear is FOREIGN MALE COMPETITION on the dating/breeding pool. I wish they were honest with that, instead of making those stupid meme à la "uuuuhhh these savage beast they're gonna dilute our high IQ blonde genetics 🥺" sorry Archibald, but be mad at your own people deciding to breed with those people (maybe bc they find them more attractive 🙃). Their presence on your land alone isn't responsible for your race disappearing.

#answered #tradfem #tradmen

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illyaana · 3 years

Text

Homebound to you - Sasha Blaus

I can't find the artist on Tumblr (again (＞人＜；)) but this is the twitter post!

Synopsis: You are childhood friends with Sasha. This part is on how you grew up with Sasha and how she told you how she's joining the Training Corps. (if I tell anymore, it isn't a synopsis welp-)

Tags: Sasha x Binaural Reader, Fluff, SFW

Word Count: 2226

⋯⋯ ⫍ SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Fanfiction Masterlist

The lush meadows of Dauper Village - the place both you called home.

It wasn’t one that you’d see written in the papers about its beauty. It was a hidden gem known by those who were willing to venture out and seek it. The forest welcomed you - the sounds of the woodland creatures and the wind against the bushes reminded you of life when you believed the world was much more peaceful than it was. The scene of an ocean blue stream of water surrounded by small animals was vivid in your memories.

“You don’t want to join me? It isn’t that dirty, trust me,” a 6-year-old Sasha said, gripping tightly onto the ends of your shirt.

Sasha Braus - the girl you’ve known ever since you were a kid.

No one could imagine the daughter of a hunter being friends - close friends - with the child of a scholar, but you both proved them wrong.

Sasha was your first ever friend. She was the one who made the introverted you more social with others.

She was the first person you truly cared for - nothing could’ve changed that.

Sasha played along a stream of water right beside the willow tree you both found the first time you ventured into the forest. She’d jump feet first into the stream, diverting the flow of water into multiple small streams before converging in the front of her feet. She loved seeing the small fishes play with each other as if they were racing to meet a bigger water source.

She’d beg you to join her in the small game - but you never did.

You wanted to steal every single moment with her in your eyes - to let it sink into the deepest parts of your brain.

“I’d rather stay dry, Sasha. My mom would kill me if I go back home with my clothes all wet,” your younger self said, trying to reason with her.

Sasha’s face immediately paled the minute you finished that sentence. She looked to her now soaked trousers. A ring of dried mud formed on the top half of her trousers decorated with dried leaves and vines.

“Why didn’t you warn me earlier?” she said, anger stricken on her face, “Mama is going to kill me now. I didn’t expect it to be this dirty.”

You chuckle at the red-faced girl in front of you.

This girl was meant for greatness - no one could deny that.

The adventurous side of hers could never be tamed.

It was wild and relentless - and you loved it to bits.

“You’re wearing shorts underneath, right?”

She nodded.

You sighed.

“Take off the trousers. I’ll wash them as best as I can and you sling it on your shoulder so that it can dry. That’s the best I can offer,” you told her.

In an instant, she ran to the bushes, took off her trousers and tossed them to you.

“You’re only 6-years old - how can you think like an adult at such a young age?” she said, an inquisitive look painted on her face.

“I grew up surrounding playful 6-year-olds, that’s why,” you said, teasing her, “I basically became their mom - looking after them, making sure they behaved well in public - I did it all.”

As time passed, Sasha became more than just a friend you used to look after.

You both became each others’ rocks - the very thing that kept each other from falling.

Sasha learnt how to hunt - to survive in the harsher world of the forest.

You learnt knowledge - to create and to move the world with a pen and paper.

You never saw Sasha hunt but you’ve pictured it billions of times.

You pictured her hazel-colored hair dancing in the air as she rode her horse. Her golden-brown eyes would focus solely on her target - they would force her victim to shudder and slow down, to become hers. Her muscles would flex under her thin shirt as he pulled the arrow in her hands against the bow - the tip fixed exactly at the weak point of her target. Then, with one swift release, her victim would fall and a rush of happiness would surge within her.

You could only draw it and picture it in your head, but how you wished to see her in action.

She’d always bring a huge portion of the meat she gained for your family. She’d say she caught more than she expected, but you could hear the rumbles from her parents.

Eventually, your families decided to move into one house to reduce the problems faced by the Braus family.

Your family would provide the income - the money to buy resources. The Braus family would help in gaining food and rationing out how much from the resources to use.

Even though your parents hated the idea of moving in with hunters, you were ecstatic.

You imagined a life with Sasha, and you were going to get a glimpse of it.

Every night, she’d come into your room with a cup of tea and talk about her hunt. You, on the other hand, would talk about what you’ve learnt for the day. Even though she never understood what you spoke on, she’d try her best to listen and even ask questions when she didn’t understand.

You taught Sasha how to use a quill while she taught you the wonders of the wild.

Sasha entered your room in the middle of the night. She had her blanket wrapped around her as she held two mugs of tea.

She saw how you continued to study throughout the night. You’d use an oil lamp as a light source as you crammed for all the future tests and exams you were going to face.

She hated the sight of you slowly losing energy. The eyebags under your eyes intensified each day. You didn’t smile as much as you used to. You lost the energy you had when you were younger.

Yet Sasha managed to keep hers, just like you wanted.

“Tea break?” she suggested, pushing a mug into your hands, “I caught a deer today! Tomorrow, you’re eating venison - get ready!”

You shook your head in denial as you placed the mug on the table.

“I swear, Y/N,” she started, agitation clear in your voice, “I will burn all your books if you don’t stop and drink tea with me right now.”

You knew Sasha’s threatens were to be taken seriously. She seriously once burned an essay you needed to hand in the next day.

You immediately closed your book and placed the hot cup of Chamomile tea in your hands. The mug itself gave you warmth, making you sigh in content.

Sasha hopped on your bed, dropping the blanket to her sides. She closed her eyes as she brought the cup of hot tea to her nose, taking it in.

You swear that she almost looked like an angel at that moment.

Her soft locks now reached her shoulders - messy and tousled. The pale moonlight against her skin highlighted her features. The gold flecks in her eyes against the hazel shined - it even showed against the steam wafting from the cup. The scar on her left shoulder from one of her hunts showed through the almost see-through shirt, showing how strong she was as a warrior.

You smiled, leaning against your chair while taking in the beauty in front of you.

“Y/N?” Sasha called.

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

“I should be free by this Friday, my exams end then.”

“Oh...” she said, trailing off.

You walk to sit beside her and place your head on your shoulder. You felt her relax as he placed her head on top of yours.

“Is everything good?”

She begins rubbing her head against yours.

“I’m good. I’m just worried about the future, that’s all.”

“The world must be ending,” you joke, “You’re actually thinking ahead.”

Sasha flicked your forehead, “Stupid - of course, I need to!”

A silence formed between the two of you as you both stared at the sky from your windows. It was pitch black. Stars twinkled against the black canvas, dancing to a song only they knew. The clouds tried their best to hide the beauty of the night, but their efforts were in vain.

“I’m thinking of joining the Training Corps,” Sasha said, cutting the silence.

Your face paled.

“What?” you froze.

“I hate hiding in fear, Y/N. I hate the fact we stay hiding away from the thing that threatens our lives. We should be killing it rather than just killing animals for meat,” she said with a serious voice.

You put both of your finished mugs on the floor and grab Sasha’s hands, forcing her to face you.

“Sasha, you might die. You might never see your parents again, you might lose everything,” tears form in your eyes, “I can’t lose you, Sasha - not now, not ever.”

She smiles while wiping the formed tears in your eyes.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll die the minute I see Titans,” she says.

She pulls you out of the bed, dusting off her shirt.

“We’re going out for a while. Get ready for an adventure after so many years, Y/N L/N.”

You both snuck out of the house and got on her horse. With one nudge from her, you both rode off into the forest. Through the dark greens emerged fireflies that lit the view before you. You spotted the eventful stream, the sleeping woodland creatures and the plants that reminded you of your childhood.

You turned to face the back of Sasha, and you were in awe.

She looked exactly like how you pictured her to look.

Her dancing hair, her flowing skirt, her smile - everything - it was what you imagined.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling yourself closer to you. You pressed your head against her back, earning a chuckle from the horse rider.

“You better come home to me, Sasha Braus. I will never forgive you if you don’t.”

“As if I won’t.”

She signaled the horse to stop at the willow tree you used to spend most of your childhood days at.

She gets off the horse and runs to the tree. Her fingers slowly graze the tree, reminiscing all the memories you both have made right here.

“You know,” she started, “I used to stare at you reading those books of yours under this tree. The wind would blow softly for you when you perched yourself under the tree, but the vines of leaves at its branches would move so much. It was as if they were dancing for you. Even if I brought a drink or a snack, you’d just give me your portion and continue to read those books, but when I wanted you to talk to me, you’d instantly put the book down and give all your attention to me.”

“Well,” you say, “I’d always look up once in a while and see you play with the animals in that little bush there,” you point at the bush covered by fireflies, “I’d see you try picking up squirrels and capture butterflies wondering what goes on in your head.”

You get off the horse and walk towards Sasha.

“I’ll miss this the most when I leave, I think. This small haven we made from trees will always be my first home.”

You hug Sasha from behind, gripping onto her loose shirt.

“It’s happening, isn’t it? I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” you say, sniffles stopping you from speaking clearly.

She shook her head and you sigh, feeling defeated.

“Y/N, pass those exams and get into the Royal Capital. I will enter the Military Police and I’ll meet you within Wall Sheena.”

“I’ll try to get everyone to move. Then, we all will be together again,” you say, building your resolve.

Sasha turns to face you. The minute she sees you, she begins to laugh hysterically.

“You look like a lost puppy,” she says as she touches your cheek, “I’ll miss you, Y/N.”

You press your foreheads against each other. You both instinctively close your eyes, enjoying the small moment you two were sharing.

You couldn’t imagine how your life was going to be without the bubbly presence only Sasha could give. To think there would be no more random rendezvous, no more jokes and no more stories from the girl in front of you made you feel the pain you didn’t want anyone to feel.

But you knew that Sasha had aspirations and dreams - you were in no place to stop her, even if her life was on the line.

The only thing you could do was to cherish this little moment with her before years without her begin.

Soon, a swarm of fireflies surrounded the two of you, giving you a clear view of the woman before you. The bright, flickering lights enhanced the raw beauty only Sasha exemplified. Her eyes stared into yours, begging you to say something.

It was only fair to do this now. If it didn’t happen now, you don’t know when you’ll have the chance again.

“I love you, Sasha Braus. Ever since I was kids I-”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Your lips met under a firefly-lit forest under the willow tree in your safe haven.

Wanna request something or just wanna talk? Go ahead and send me an ask here! If you want to send a request, please check my guidelines to see what I am comfortable with. Thanks for reading <3

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ivarsrideordie · 3 years

Note

Your recent post on AHA being absent from social media got me thinking; my response is verbose and I was nervous it would be annoyingly long to post in the general comment section. So I came here? Is that a thing? Lol. I'm still in my infancy stage with Tumblr. Learning the ropes. So, the thoughts:

Sadly, loneliness and projection are too real. Day dreaming is fun, but scary territory when the dreamer begins to derive their self-worth and happiness from a person or relationship built in the mind. Truth is, this man is merely an attractive stranger whose true personality we can only scratch the suface of. There is no true, substantial two way relationship. So when people 'miss' his presence, who do we miss? The character of Alex developed in the mind? The idea that if he posts, it directly validates his acceptance of 'me' as a person? That he posts because he cares about engaging with 'me'? Alex cannot accept or reject 'me'... he doesn't know 'I' exist. He's engaging with an idea of a group that he hopes is kind but sometimes isn't- a general group of people he's probably grateful for but also weary of. When a fan's emotion and self worth becomes impacted by an actor or influencer's engagement... that's where the line gets real blurry.

I read an article I think of him mentioning that people write to him frequently with heavy thoughts, asking him to respond, to ultimately save them from themselves. That's fking tragic, for both sides. Both humans. My heart breaks for the lonely and the lost who put so much stock in a stranger's validation. Because the savior in their mind is all they have. I'm not judging. I'm not. I understand walking that line more than I'd like to admit. Its too easy to do when you've made inferences in your mind and patchworked together the personality of a potential friend. And what can he do? Its an unfair ask with one person, let alone hundreds, thousands? How can he protect himself from that impossible emotional burden if not by hiding? This person we follow online is just another human in the world who poops like rest of us. And the psychology of acting and influence is heavy. To get the big roles and make a good living, you sell your image, I suppose. You're the product. The more popular, the more valuable in the box office. But also the more exposed, judged, and vulnerable. Do you give up the dream of your passion as an income and the idea of supporting your family because you 'can't handle the heat'?

I do believe all jobs come with a trade off. If I want to earn enough money to afford certain things, I trade time away from my children while working, for example. I don't know if we can change the machine. The psychology behind why his job works like it does. But, just as I am on an endless quest to find balance between what I gain and what I lose as I endeavor to be both happy and provide financially, I imagine he is too. And that's ok. That's fair. Not personal.

Suffice to say, if I were this dude I'd be ghosting too.

Sorry it took me a bit to get back to you on this. I actually wanted to be on my laptop so I could answer with more than a 4 word reply.

First off, WELCOME TO TUMBLR! I’ll take any comments or questions no matter how long they are so don’t worry about being lengthy. It’s not hard to use and its both fun and annoying to be on. This social media platform is becoming just about as bad as Twitter or Facebook.

You make some very good points. I agree there is a very fine line between reality vs “reality’ and some fans can’t seem to figure out which is the real one. When I was younger, I had issues with this. I have done some stupid stuff that was totally stalkerish. Then I grew up. That was also the time I started realizing I was bipolar with high anxiety. I would have rather been in my own little world with my fake friends then real life. It takes a lot of hard work and time to pull yourself out of that kind of mentality and also a lot of work to stay out of that kind of thinking as well.

I’ll admit I say that I miss Alex as well. It’s not necessarily him that I am missing though. You are correct. It is the essence of what Alex puts out there of himself. We all have come to love him as Ivar. Some people can’t get away from the fact that he is in fact not actually Ivar so they have that whole image of him in their minds thinking that that is who he is. I feel for those people. I feel like some, if not most of the people who have this disassociation have had horrible childhoods. That was my issue. And like I said, I have learned through therapy and hard work how to distinguish the two.

Expecting anything from anyone that doesn’t know you is definitely unfair. I would never put Alex or anyone in a situation where I would tell them I would die or kill myself if they didn’t talk to me or love me. That is selfish and unfair to do to anyone.

That is just my two cents. Thank you for this comment and somewhat of a debate. lol

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shall-we-imagine · 6 years

Text

Loosen up. (Bodyguard!Klaus Goldstein x Reader)

Requested: 66. "I like you. You're different." + 73. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions." From the promt list.

Genre: Fluff/idk if this also counts as suggestive? Only if you're very innocent I guess? And if you're on tumblr then you probably aren't so nvm 😂

A/N: sorry for being so inactive lately I've been busy with studying and such so I generally couldn't find it in me to write so yeah :/ (I have a trial tomorrow so like idk pray for me 😂) but here I am! ヽ(゜～゜o)ノ Also yes I'm aware this isn't how Vincent acts and he's not filthy rich but for now we're gonna let it slide okay? Cool. 😂

(Second Person Point of View)

"That's when I decided it was time to buy my fifth car; I mean who attends their first day of college with the same old cars, right?" The man laughs. You suspected that if he stopped boasting for longer than 2 seconds, he'd suffocate and die. You kind of hoped to witness that.

It'd been 2 hours already, yet you weren't allowed to leave the party until your dad says you could. You'd even tried to convince your bodyguard to let you leave without your father knowing anything of the incident, but Klaus was far too strict and responsible; he'd never do such a reckless thing.

Yeah, sure, it's good for your dad to have found such a trustworthy employee, but when you've been stuck talking to these blatantly boring and arrogant people that only viewed you as a good deal to obtain more wealth, well, let's just say: it makes you sort of wish Klaus cared less.

However, that was not the case. In fact, while all bodyguards waited outside, Klaus remained inside -only a few feet away from you at any given time. He also seemed to always be giving you a look that could only be describe as the look a mother gives when you have people over, and she's daring you to mess anything up.

Now, you weren't the stereotypical bratty child that refuses to take over their parents' company. You knew your responsibility and always hoped to make them proud; you just weren't a big fan of the world surrounding all the important people in business. Therefore, it made you yearn for messing around from time to time.

Today was one of those days. You so desperately hoped Klaus would get off your back for even just a few moments, so you could escape the exhausting setting. But he continued with the angry-mother-glare; it almost seemed like he'd gotten the expression tattooed on his face after the endless times he had to get you out of trouble.

There was definitely a bright side to that extra attention, though. You suspected Klaus had a thing for you. After all, he was known to be very good at his job; he could easily quit and get a job less demanding with an equal pay or even a bigger pay if he wanted, but he didn't. He decides to stay with a teenage girl that enjoys pushing his buttons. He was professional, so he wouldn't say anything or let it show, but you had this feeling in your guts that he at least felt intrigued by you.

And, surely, you were ready to use this to your advantage.

You glance towards the blond at the corner of the room, ensuring he was still staring (threateningly, but still staring nevertheless). His eyebrow arches slightly, sensing you were about to do something dumb. You could almost hear him think God, what is it this time?!

You focus your attention back on the man whose name you'd forgotten about 2 seconds after he introduced himself.

"So, I heard you're staying at the hotel here for the entire duration of the event." You smile sweetly.

"Yeah, I am." He takes a sip out of his drink.

You begin flirtatiously twirling a strand of your hair. "Well, how about you take me to have a look upstairs?"

Startled by the unexpected implications of your request, he chokes on his drink and starts coughing. You try your best not to appear disgusted, giving him a smile when he's done with his coughing session.

Sure enough, he agrees and links your arms together, leading you towards the exit of the section the party was held in.

"Miss (Y/N)," Klaus speaks through gritted teeth. He wore a smile and kept his voice quiet, but there was no denying he was ready to scold you. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Upstairs." You smile, playing dumb.

"What do you mean up-" after losing his calm for a second, Klaus cuts himself off to take a deep breath and let it out before proceeding. "Would you please excuse us, Mr. Knight?" Klaus bows lightly before dragging you to an empty corner.

"You think just because you're leaving with a guest, I'll allow you to go?" Klaus whispers in annoyance.

"What? Are you jealous?" You wiggle an eyebrow at him, knowing well enough that wasn't the reason (well, not the main one, at least).

Lips pulled into a pained smile, Klaus glares. "Are you asking for an insult? I think you're abusing that service I provide for you a hundred times per minute."

"Come on, Klausie; loosen up." You poke his chest with your index finger. You knew the redhead -or Mr. Knight- was probably still waiting for you, but you couldn't care less. You wanted to stretch out the process of bugging Klaus as long as possible, since it was the only way to spend time with him. It was also fun watching his nose scrunch and his eyebrows furrow in such anger. He would try to mask his frustration, but it was obvious he had a short temper when it came to you. To put it nicely, he was done with your shit.

"Don't, under any circumstances, call me Klausie." He threatens. "And I don't need to loosen up; you need to stop being so careless!"

"Sure." Rolling your eyes, you step away from him.

Before you could take two full steps, Klaus had already grabbed your arm. "Going somewhere?"

You pull your hand away. "The bathroom. Am I not allowed to answer the call of nature either?" You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"Touché." He raises his hands in defeat, but once you begin walking away, he follows.

"Where are you going?"

"Just ensuring you don't get any funny ideas." He shrugs.

Huffing, you decide to ignore him. Thankfully, he was only planning to stand near the door; it didn't seem too strange imagining Klaus walking in for "safety measures": the guy was crazy when it came to his job.

"Man, another pretty dress gone to waste." You sigh, looking into the mirror. The sparkling violet fabric clung onto your body till your waist then flowed freely, reaching to merely graze the floor. It was one of the dresses you really liked; you loved the way it showed your shoulder blades and only a portion of your back; it was sexy yet classy. The glittery purple was certainly your colour too! Alas, your dad would scold you for rewearing a dress more than he would scold you if you were to kill a person (as long as you've hidden the evidence well, that is). Murder can be covered up, but 'horrible fashion choices' cannot be hidden, according to your father. Sometimes you went against that, but most of the time, you just complied, even though it's an absolute waste of money.

"You're taking too long, you know that?" Klaus calls from outside, impatience clear in his voice.

You bite back a response when you realize there's something much better you could do. Quietly checking the stalls, you ensure you're 100% alone inside.

"Could there be a valid reason you're not responding to me?!"

Ignoring his question, you just scream in response. "Klaus! Klaus, help me!" You screech frantically.

The door bursts open, and Klaus steps inside aggressively. Before he could realize what's happening, you push him back against the door, slamming it behind him.

Smug about catching him off guard, you smirk at the taller male, whose body was closely pressed against yours. "Were you worried?" You tease.

"About losing my job? Yeah." He scoffs, turning his head away from you but not bothering to push you away.

"Why is it always about the job?" You tilt your head to meet his eyes again.

"Because I'm at work?" He states with a raised eyebrow, as if it sounded stupid for you to even ask that.

You run your hands gently over his chest; even through layers of clothing, you could still feel the firm muscles concealed by the black suit. "Well, maybe it's time for a break." You grin innocently.

"You do know you can't fool me, right?" He takes one of your hands away from him but doesn't let go of it.

Rolling your eyes, you move away from him. "I'm not fooling you; I want us to have fun! Neither one of us is enjoying this anyway." You cross your arms.

An unexpected response sparks excitement within you. "Well, what do you suggest we do?" You knew he was only being sarcastic, but it gave you a pathway for more methods to push his buttons and witness his reactions.

Closing the distance between both of you once more, you stand on the tip of your toes as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. "Oh, I have a lot of suggestions." You whisper in his ear, feeling him flinch lightly at your suggestive remark. You could tell he was trying to hide it and pretend he wasn't phased, but you'd already noticed it, and he knew it.

"You're gonna get me fired." Cheeks slightly red, he turns his head away and gently parts your bodies from each other. "God, why is it so hard to handle you? It's like dealing with a troublemaking child."

"You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions." You stick your tongue out at him. "Plus, father won't know anything if neither one of us told him." You point out what seemed to have escaped Klaus's perception of the situation.

"You want me to lie to your father." He laughs in disbelief.

"Mmhm, not quite. More like not telling him the full truth."

"That's exactly what lying is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"Okay, stop! Fine, lie! I don't know!" You fling your arms in the air out of frustration. A novel sound catches your attention, immediately flushing away the frustration. Klaus was laughing. Not sarcastically. No, a genuine laugh was echoing across the bathroom.

"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing if we talk a walk for some fresh air and come back." He smiles. "Just this time though!"

An uncontrollable grin spreads across your face, and you immediately throw your arms around Klaus. "Thank you!"

"You gotta stop..doing..this.." He awkwardly pats your back, careful not to touch your bare skin.

"No promises!" You shrug, before grabbing his hand and rushing outside, making your way to the exit.

"Miss (Y/N)?" You freeze in your spot. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, um.." you stutter, not expecting to have to explain yourself to your companion from earlier.

"We got an emergency call; we'll be right back." Klaus, in his usual composed state, 'explains' to Mr. Knight.

"Ah, I see." Red head may be an idiot, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell something wasn't right, but he either chose to let it slide or he just didn't care. Regardless, you were thankful. "I'll be waiting for your return then." With a smile and a bow, he left and disappeared into the crowd.

"You'll catch a cold." Klaus states, watching you twirl and run around in the chilly October weather.

You weren't cold, or maybe you didn't dislike being cold. It wasn't the type of cold to make you unable to take a few proper steps and force you to do an awkward penguin walk; rather, it was the type of cold to merely caress your skin, decorating it with goosebumps. "Don't worry; I'm alright."

"Just take my jacket. Your back and shoulders are exposed; you must be cold." He spoke with such certainty that it almost made you rethink for a few moments about whether you actually felt cold or not.

"Are you worried or are you just intimidated by how sexy I look?" You strike a pose far from seducing.

Klaus, who had his jacket held out for you, resumed walking as he put his jacket back on. "You know, on second thought, it might be a good thing if you catch a cold and stay at home for a week or so." He passes by you, leaving you and your sexy pose alone.

"Hey! That was mean!" You catch up to him.

"Nothing new, then." He shrugs, a slight smirk forcing itself onto his pink lips.

You speed up a little then turn around to face him once you're slightly ahead of him; you remain walking, but backwards this time, allowing yourself to look at him during the conversation. "How could you be mean to such a beautiful lady?" You pout.

"What beautiful lady?" He looks around, pretending to search for something.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How could y-" Your sentence was inconveniently cut off by your stumble; or perhaps, it was a slightly convenient situation when you think about it from a different perspective: Klaus, as sharp as usual, was able to grasp your arm, preventing you from falling.

"Uh, thanks." You breathe out, nodding slightly. Once you begin to straighten yourself up, Klaus lets go of your arm, only to watch you fall to the ground immediately after. "I think my heel broke.." you frown, staring at your left shoe, now with its heel lying a few inches away.

"You think?" Klaus earns a glare, urging him to put aside the sarcasm and help you up.

"Those were such a cute pair.." you sigh, placing your arm around Klaus's shoulder for support. Your arms were already hurting due to the height difference; it was like hanging from a cliff but not quite.

Klaus places an arm around your waist. "Well, I can buy you another one. You need another pair to get back to the party anyway."

"What if I don't?"

"Don't what? Get back to the party? That's not what we agreed on! Your father-"

You cut off his rant, "We'll get back there, and I'll call dad and inform him that my heel broke; he'd immediately allow me to leave. It's already late anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

######

"Yes, Klaus, I'm sure he'd let me go home if I tell him my heel broke! Of course, Klaus, there's no way he would have some other plans for me!" Your bodyguard mimicks your voice and tone (terribly), as you sit in the back of the car your dad sent with a brand new pair of shoes.

"How would I have known he would do this?!" You complain, tightening the straps of the new shoes around your ankle.

"Well, hurry up, knight dude is probably waiting for you." Arms crossed, he taps his foot impatiently. You merely groan in response.

"I can't believe he didn't even tell me he booked a room for me at the hotel! And that I have to attend the same event tomorrow too! I didn't even bring any change!"

"Um, Miss (Y/N), your father asked me to hand you this too.." the driver quietly places a small suitcase on the back seat next to you.

"There you go; he packed stuff for you." You weren't sure if Klaus was trying to tease you or comfort you, but either way, you just let out a sigh.

After a long, mentally and physically exhausting night, you were finally allowed to leave. And boy, were you delighted to recieve the news.

"This one." You pause in front of the room that had the same number on the keycard. Klaus had already placed your bag inside earlier, but it was your first time viewing the room. "At least the room is pretty." You shrug.

"Didn't think you'd admit it." Klaus chuckles. "Well, I have to go; so, good night, Miss (Y/N); I'll be back here tomorrow." He bows.

"Wait!" You stop him before he steps outside the room.

As I have reached the 100 block limit, I'll complete this in Part 2...which I'll literally post now and it'll be shorter than this cuz it's just the ending 😂

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 4 years

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The curve flattened I'm told due to evaporation.

Evaporation is allowed to occur when 3 or more people in one house have COVID-19 and give consent to immediate travel to their home place -- some aliens prefer not to call it a planet but it is

So when they are diagnosed they are sent home in NY state including NYC. And so it's made s remarkable difference in numbers.

The evaporation numbers are electronically recorded live in a databank

So dead bodies to dinosaurs and handle that nasty drama or evaporation and hands free and clean.

And as a doctor or nurse, "you are diagnosed with COVID-19. You will have an adventurous future. Please go home and enjoy your ride. Here's two prescriptions to help you on your life's journey"

I mean really. Try a little flavor.

"Bitch you gonna die yo! Here take this pill so you shut the fuck up while you dien' ain't no one wanna hear you yo! And push this down and suck when you be coughin like you dyin cause you will!!" I mean i Don't even care. What are they gonna do? Complain? When? They about to die. In case they do "I explained the medication use and how to and when to and I said the future is different than it is now. And i need a break. Care to join me away from this soon to be home individual?" now its only for now and i really don't recommend you to talk to someone like that except people like me, just wanna punch some fucking ass holes in the face.

Besides some people find that kind of interaction comical and they actually do prefer it to normal doctor talk. Its humbling. Some get upset like Denise.

And i just walked by Uncle Dad and he said to her when she borrowed $2000 from me and lied it was for bills but it was so she could go to Hawaii and she said "just between you and me i borrow this Don't tell dad" and she was talking about it because I walked by and he said "yeah Denise just between you and me You got a bloody broken nose"

Because he wanted me and my daughter to go. And she borrowed almost all my savings and i didn't have enough for 3 plane tickets to Hawaii when she already had $2,000 and 2 paychecks go in and had over $6000 of her own money on the trip after bills paid. So she had $8000...

And i couldn't go. She she got a busted nose. She was until 6 months ago assisted leader of Zulululu on Eaerth.

She insisted that Nathaniel try to initiate sex with me at that time and lost her rulership.

Because in reality she told him to rape me. That's what she fucking did.

Anyway point. If someone talks in a different manner to a COVID than usual. But isn't abusive as i was not abusive in the passage above i expect it to be excused and accepted and discontinued soon. As it is ONLY for COVID-19 activated and not carriers (which will only show up in DNA4U)

A lot of people The most strong people have been invaded by aliens. The strongest.

And we been beat down. Over and over.

I'm gonna pull out the NHRA because some of them kids are real special to me.

32% are human. 92% of the remaining percentage are alien. That's just the drivers.

72% of mechanics are human. 4% of the remaining are alien. (Cause they're fucking lazy -- not just an opinion)

The rest evil humans.

So of 600 drivers... Take 32 times 6 and you got some fucking number i ain't a calculstor but it's about 3x6 is 18 plus in the ones column 2x6 plus Yoir carry.

192 I'm assuming out of 600.

So that totally isn't right. 32% of drivers. 1/3 of 600 is 200

Fuck tree msn noe he says there's 900 drivers. Makes me laugh

So over 300... Why does the calculator say 288??

Why does this not work? 32% oh is not 33.333% it's less than im all thinking 30% is 1/3.

Fuxk math.

I'm sloppy in math. I have good humor about it tho and tree gets a good chuckle at me because I get so dumb about it. I was looking for 35% which is about 315.

See why Yall need 8 hours or more of restful sleep? Denise kept me up all night acting stupid screaming and then Nathaniel woke me up early worried about his livelihood. So i got me like 4 or 5 hours.

So 288 people surrounded by 900 people.

This is often the case then the remaining (i have a calculator here) 612 people try to drag down the 288 i can clearly see that they are outnumbered by over double

So that is a two on one unfair fight. Two not even being allowed to be on the fucking planet!!

And the one alone to stand or ball up to defend is nearly defenseless.

Then in the NHRA to make matters worse the aliens lie and manipulate to get their mechanics behind them.

So i developed a system that the driver team that wants to fight fights as a team and they have to pay real cash money starting at $10,000 that just goes up and up. If they intend to fight a human and Easter Egg occurs and the aliens that put up the bounty to warrior can't fight and must award all cash to the human ran team. Like Erica Enders.

And if she catches you talking shit after the cash award (usually a wire payment) and she will. She racks up fees and fines aka charges. Then she can beat the shit outta the alien team that has to stand there with their hands at their sides or in their pockets after the pockets are cleared by the awarded team and each person gets 5 hits to the face or ribs then the shit talker gets 10 from each team member from the human side.

Since 2013.

Aliens do not belong on Earth. Many of the drivers are the worst offenders of human trafficking which is why They are allowed in the NHRA so we can spy on them and is why rhe mechanics are so many humans.

Because by default humans hate aliens. Its just a distaste we are programmed and then we feel sorry for them for our programmed hate..

It is a very vicious cycle and very painful. Because we can't stand the way they act or dress or the way they're so fucking happy. And its because they lie and hide who they are from us and we feel it.

Thus the distaste

No matter how hard we try to like them and enjoy being with them the hiding and lying over and over of their true identity is terrible.

Queen hid from me her identity and I was all who the fuck are you? Like it wasn't like i would be rammed if i asked.

She said "pardon?"

And i was like oh shit and i got all red... And i was all oh im sorry I should not talk to her like that she's elder and proper! So i said "im sorry ma'am i was Just wondering who you were"

"Well I'm the fucking Queen!!"

I must had looked like a turnip by then all the blood rushing to my face to feed my brain.

"Of who?! What? Where?!"

"Of England" and she folded her hands in her lap on one side and looked all dignified.

Holy fucking shit who would thought?! Not me!

But an alien will lie "I'm just like you but ...." And never dignify themselves to say they are alien. And it is irritating.

When Queens or Kings don't announce themselves its full of mystery and wonder.

When an alien DOES then it's full of mystery and wonder.

When they don't it's absolutely full blown annoying.

Sometimes we can act like children and allow a person to follow us around and copy every move like the other kid doesn't know how to live. But there comes a point even a child will explode in temper.

They just don't fit on our planet!

Even Venus. Neptune and Mars when they transferred to human Because they earned the right by following the rules we still had to tweak their brains and look and so on.

Neptune looked like Ewoks. They were so fucking cute!!! I love Ewoks. I slept with one forever in my bed when i was a kid - a stuffed one from the store.. A fake non living one. I didn't know. I just felt a lot of love.

And i was being really abused by Denise and Nathaniel and i felt really better to,wake up to its cute little face. It was the one thing Denise didn't try to destroy because she knew the truth about them but she sure didn't tell me.

So although I have and the whole human race has a severe dislike and distaste for the alien race I did ensure that their deaths are one I would want for myself. For my children. For the proper Queen of England who can joke around and make my body feed my brain to keep me alive for one more day.

Something kind.

Evaporation is a slight accordion feeling mainly in the chest and then off they go.

So no one intended for Donald Trump to be running his mouth telling people not to listen to me

Simple bronchitis treatment then home to their families to discuss the ability to leave and when and where. And apparently there's a website you can organize yourselves on so you don't go alone.

I have tried every other way and it was unsuccessful.

I'm not destroying my own planet that was a gift because some aliens are fucking rude.

Im just gonna send their asses home as i should have done long ago.

Its not about being bitter or wanting revenge.

Simple fact is they don't belong here and they have their own home and their own Gods.

Its straining for their Gods to switch between their home and here.

Not my creation. Not my responsibility.

Not the nurses nor doctor nor military.

Not the mailmans nor Amazon's.

When yall voted for an American Revolutionary War 76% voted yes. Of the world wide population of nurses and doctors and health cate professionals 81.5% voted yes. Over 81% voted for a Revolution

So i expect no problems from now and the next 13 days.

24% of Y'all were probably aliens. Tree says... 16 and a half % which then leaves probably evil humans. Snd tree says yes.

So 100% of Humans says yes fuck this shit.

So y'all drink your grocery store wine. Have your cheese. Leave me some extra sharp cheddar but get you some too and get your ice cream. Buckle down and take your tests for money to buy all that. Don't pay no rent nor mortgage

We will talk to car loans i expect. Talk to your car loan providers. I don't want no dude towing your car cause he know it's at home and you didn't pay the monthly payment.

So use your DNA4U to pay your car loans and car insurance and get your food..

Don't be paying baggers online. I got a couple I follow here on Tumblr always a medical or food need. Go on the street corner and work for that yo.

They can get same as you to take a test

Get your student loans deferred.

If you have no DNA4U access and you did and you got an email saying why then you're leaving the planet So click the link and make your arrangements to get on your way.

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