#source: seven psychopaths | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starkregret · 5 days ago

Text

Ease My Dread (Trembling Limbs Instead)

or: the soulmates au

when the first bruise appears, a sickly yellow color with purple that runs through it, annoyance will be the first thing that runs through quinn’s mind.

most are thrilled with the first mark; the reminder that someone is out there, for you, waiting for you to find them-instead, quinn wets his thumb and presses the tip angrily into the flesh, trying to rub it off, teeth gritted as he ignores the pain.

his mother will swat at him, gently, with an old stained dish towel and he’ll pull a face, a gentle: “mama.” as his hand falls and she’ll speak:

“most people,” she chastises quietly, “are thrilled when this happens.”

he grumbles, allows himself to slip further into his seat: “most people don’t take a fucking year to show.”

she clicks her tongue: “seven months, quinn.” she says gently and when she sees that it doesn’t perk him up she rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair gently: “some people are worth waiting for, quinn. give them time.”

months pass. quinn counts the time in the marks that appear on his body; the bruise that forms on his thigh, the long scratch down his arm, angry and red, the black eye that he wakes up with and lets his finger trace an outline of, ignoring the way it hurts under his touch.

“i think my soulmate is a psychopath.”

he flops into a seat, bites into his straw as he takes a sip of expensive coffee.

“maybe they’re just clumsy,” jack tries to counter, trying hard to not stare at the black eye that stares back at him: “you weren’t always graceful, remember that.”

quinn chucks whatever he can at jack’s head, this time in the form of a flat paperback that jack always dodges at the last second, something he naturally become good at from being around with him for so long.

for a few weeks, no marks appear on his skin. how he use to twist and bend and mold to look at himself in the mirror, stretching further

no. instead, you found a new way to occupy his mind.

he’ll remember, months later, when you’re tangled into him, how you appeared in these dreams long before he knew a source, before he could put the features together. when you were shaky lines with the contrast too high, a hum pitched too high that always made him wake up sweating.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you’d say in these dreams, your hand tangled into his. “find me. if you’re so smart, come find me already.”

“i must be smart,” he’d say back in this dreams, a smirk on his lips as he pulled you closer, his lips pressed against yours as he talked: “if i can make you up-“

he’d close his eyes in these dreams, ready to kiss you, to finally lean in, before he would awake in his too small bed, sweat dripping down him and the familiar taste of strawberries on his lips.

quinn tried everything but faking his own death to get out of coming to this party. knew by the misspelled text message inviting him it would be a shit storm. he was halfway through his notes app list of excuses when Jack came to his room, all but pulled him out of his room and forced him into the building.

quinn used the excuse of the smoke getting to him to get out of the house. said he could practically feel the smoke wrapping around his neck and choking him, taking his years away from him before he could even appreciate them. all his friends rolled their eyes, made the circle he was in smaller and all but kicked him out, forcing him into the backyard.

outside he could still hear the music but it was lighter, the words harder to understand, had to strain to hear what they were saying. he acted like he didn’t see someone puking in the bushes as he made his way to the kids swing set and plopped into it.

out of habit he slowly started kicking his feet, coming to a steady rhythm that would lift his feet off the ground. out of habit he lifted his arm up, inspecting his own body for any evidence that his soulmate existed.

“this seat taken?”

you don’t wait for a response as you sit in the too small swing seat, slowly kicking your feet.

it was like the sky opened up and projector lights flashed on you. he knew instantly who you were, the messy blob you were before now a perfect line, all the features he couldn’t make out before in front of him. like all those sleepless nights trying to make a perfect form of you, to try and memorize you was finally worth it-

“i dreamed of you.”

nice going, he thinks way to scare of your literal soulmate

instead, you hum gently, a familiar smile pulls at your lips. this isn’t how you imagined meeting him, had much more grander plans for this. didn’t imagine meeting him at a frat party, imagined yourself much more graceful and him more put together:

“was it a good dream?”

he’s staring and he knows it, knows it borders on being too creepy, too focused:

“never as good as reality”

his hand flies out before he can stop it:

“quinn,” he says gently, “i believe I’m the victim of the receiving end of all those bruises.”

you laugh, and it’s a familiar noise, one he didn’t know he was missing until he heard it, promises himself right there he’s going to do everything he can to make you laugh again and again, before your hand is out and shaking his, past the introductions:

“i’m glad i finally found you.”

and because that seems like too much, like that’s too familiar to say before you barely know their name, even if you dreamed them all this time, instead, he shakes his head: “i owe you some dates.”

#mags writes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes ff #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n

30 notes · View notes

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 months ago

Text

Sense Memory: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: An unsub is abducting women and dumping their bodies left and right, and it's up to your team to stop him before he hurts anyone else. Meanwhile, your birthday is coming up, and Spencer tries to put together something he knows you'll love.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If any warnings exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

Penelope calls back and Derek places her on speakerphone for all to hear.

"What do you have?"

"I checked all seven cab companies that service the Hollywood and Vermont area, and none of the drivers reported picking anyone up between 11:00 and 2:00 the night Linda went missing."

"Do they know that for sure?" Emily asks.

"Yes. They seemed really certain."

"One of the drivers may have picked someone up off the meter."

"Do the cabs have GPs?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah. Taxis are tracked more than Gaga's Twitter."

"What does that mean?" Spencer asks, confused.

"I'll explain later, baby," you chuckle.

"Yeah, teach him to worship the other Lady G, boss. Ta and ta."

She hangs up, and you chuckle at her witty banter.

"If there isn't say record he was driving on the clock, he could have been off the clock like Derek said."

"What about a gypsy cab?" Rossi suggests. "They roam around in unregistered vehicles with fake insignias that look legit."

"There are twenty-three hundred registered cabs in the city and at least as many unregistered. I don't know about you, but I hardly pay attention when I get into a cab. Now I might start," Bailey frowns.

"If he's unregistered, he's not gonna sit outside taxi stands and wait to pick up fares in the traditional way which makes him harder to find. This guy could be anywhere."

"Detective, can you gather everyone? We'd like to give the profile." Bailey leaves as do most of the team. The only ones left are you, Spencer, and Hotch, and your fiance is writing frantically on the whiteboard. "What is it, Reid?"

"When I was in school, we used to use methanol to separate chemicals from each other. Whatever we did, we'd clip a sample of the source material to label and keep next to the output."

"What kind of samples?" you ask.

"Square samples two inches by two inches." That's the exact measurements of the skin the unsub cuts off his victims' feet. "I think this guy's a scientist and he's experimenting."

You two follow Hotch to the main area where the officers are waiting for the profile.

"We wanted to get a preliminary profile to you as soon as possible because of the type of unsub we're dealing with here," Hotch begins. "We believe he's a male caucasian, driving an unregistered gypsy cab. He uses the vehicle to abduct the women. His victims have been between the ages of twenty and forty, and we think that he's in the same age bracket."

"Add to that his use of methanol for whatever reason and the aerosolization of chloroform, and we believe that we're looking for a very intelligent unsub which is not unusual. True psychopaths often have above-average intelligence."

"This type of unsub will not have injected himself into the investigation as we often see. He will not be following the investigation very closely. In fact, he may not even be concerned about whether he's leaving any evidence," you say.

"How come we can't find him?" Detective Bailey asks.

"Because of what he's doing to them. He's submerging them in liquid, which is washing away any forensic evidence that might be there, and then he's wrapping the bodies in plastic," Spencer answers.

"There is something about him that will be helpful. He's extremely antisocial. We've all heard neighbors say after an unsub is caught how surprised they all are. That will not be the case with this guy. Couple his explosive, antisocial nature with taxi driving and someone will have made contact with him. They will remember."

"We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible, that he's an unregistered taxi driver and that he's had confrontations with people in the city. Thank you very much."

The second Hotch wraps up the meeting, every single officer's pagers go off. There has been another murder. This time, the unsub dumped the body on the side of the road in the mountains. A biker stumbled upon the body and called the authorities right away. Hotch ordered a press conference which Derek stayed behind to be part of.

"You guys got a press conference up fast," Bailey says. "The body is this way. A couple of mountain bikers found her."

You follow the detective down the hill to where the body is, and you kneel to get a closer look at her. Again, the same taxi comes up when you try to look at her past.

"I see the same taxi. Not much else, though. It's times like these that make me wish I could control what I see," you sigh and stand up.

"She's still unidentified, but like I said, most of the victims weren't even reported missing."

Spencer gathered a list of what the unsub would need for this kind of torture and called Penelope about it. The unsub must need items to set up a laboratory like beakers, glass tubes, a vessel large enough to hold a woman, and enough methanol to submerge her. He has to be getting these things from somewhere. All of that plus addresses where large amounts of methanol have been delivered alongside chloroform.

Thanks to Derek's press conference, a woman calls in saying she just talked to what she thinks is the unsub. You and Emily take a ride downtown to talk to her. She patiently waits on the sidewalk until you and a few officers arrive.

"I don't know if he's the guy, but he was out of control. His cab was unregistered, and he actually made me, a paying customer, get out."

"Was that all that happened?" you ask.

"Well, I was on the phone when I first got in the cab. He was listening to something. Some dumb recording of himself talking."

"What was he saying on the recording?"

"I don't know. I tried to get his cab number down, but I was really flustered. I only got the last two digits," she says and hands you a piece of paper.

"Okay, ma'am, these two officers will take down all your information." You gesture to the officers. "They're probably gonna ask you to look at some photos."

"How long is that gonna take?" she sighs.

It's like she's bothered by staying behind and trying to help catch this guy.

"I'm not really sure, ma'am, but you may actually help save someone's life."

"Okay," she nods and walks over to the officers.

"If he's listening to recordings of himself, he's not only antisocial, he's probably delusional as well," Emily says.

You take out your phone and call Hotch to tell him what the woman said.

"Listen, there was another woman who just went missing right after you left. Anisa Gold. Her roommate says she was going to a job interview but never arrived. She never returned home either."

"Okay, Em and I will stay downtown and talk to some of the cab drivers." You hang up. "He has another woman."

"Let's go." You and Emily take a walk around the area before spotting a cab driver parked off to the side since he's taking his break. She takes out her badge to show the guy. "Sir, do you mind if we take a look inside your cab for a minute?"

You can feel the panic before you can see it on his face.

"It doesn't have anything to do with you, sir. We just want to have a conversation."

"Okay, sure."

"Thank you. Em, get in the back."

You get behind the wheel and she takes the back seat behind the passenger. You look around the place to see what might be logical about all this.

"So, why a cab? He could control the woman better if he had a van or something."

"Yeah, but a woman probably wouldn't get into a van voluntarily. A cab enables him to blend in when he's on the hunt."

"True, but he doesn't choose his victims until they get inside."

"Exactly. What is it about these passengers?"

You turn to face the road. "I doubt it's anything visual. He'd get a better look at his victims from the street as opposed to the back of his cab."

"Look at the partition. They aren't touching each other. It probably isn't based on that." She scrunches her face in disgust. "Ugh. It smells back here."

You look at Em through the rearview mirror. "What if it's smell? I can smell your perfume from up here." You two get out, thank the man, and you dial Spencer who is back at the station. "Could it be smell?"

"What?"

"Could smell be what's attracting him to his victims?"

"Distillation extraction. It's gotta be that. Methanol can be used to create scents or aromas. If you soak something in it for hours, it draws out the essential oils. Y/N, let me call you right back, okay?"

"I think Spencer has something. We should head back."

You two drive back to the police station where everyone else is.

"Unless the victims all wore excessive amounts of perfume, it would take one hell of a nose to detect smell through a taxi window," Rossi says.

"Not necessarily. People with the olfactory disorder hyperosmia have an oversensitivity to smell. They typically pick up scents that other people can't. I don't think he'd be going after their perfume. It's already artificial."

"Then they weren't wearing any perfume. What if it's something about their natural scent that compels him?" you ask.

"Smell's a powerful trigger for memory. He might be trying to bring back the memory of somebody he lost." Spencer's phone rings and he answers Penelope's call. "You have something?"

"Yeah, this is wonderful and totally uncommon. I have exactly one address at which every piece of equipment you listed was delivered to. It's already sent."

The FBI and the police force don't waste any time getting to this man's house. If he hasn't already killed Anisa, he will soon. You get out of the car once you get there and keep your gun in front of you the whole time. You pause when you see cameras on the outside of his house. If he doesn't know you're here, he will soon.

"Morgan, Y/N, take the back," Hotch orders.

You follow Derek to the back of the house and notice a garage with the door wide open. Headlights shine in your face as the man speeds out of it.

"He's running!" you yell.

"Reid and Prentiss, search the house!"

"Come on, Derek. Let's go."

You and Derek hop into a car before he floors it after the man. Hotch and Rossi get into the other car while the officers stay with Spencer and Emily. If Anisa is at his place, you hope they find her alive and well. By the time Derek hits the road, the man is nowhere to be found, but you see his energy all over the road.

"Take this north. I'll tell you when to turn."

Derek speeds up with Rossi and Hotch on your heels. He takes the dirt road that separates one neighborhood from another which then leads to the main road. Derek is going so fast that when he gets onto the main road, the car bounces from a dip in the road. There are tire marks on the street that tell you where the man is going, but you're locked knot his fear.

He isn't going to let them take him alive. He'd rather die than go to jail.

"Turn right here!"

Derek makes a sharp turn onto a busy street that leads right over a bridge. Cars try to move out of your way but some of them aren't fast enough. Derek has to drive onto the clear sidewalk to get around traffic. There are a few taxis on the road but you have your eyes locked onto the one running from you.

Derek does a good job in keeping up with him but he won't ram him because of the other people on the road. He doesn't want to put them in danger.

The man takes a sharp left down an alleyway just as a trash truck pulls out. You're forced to wait for him to move before continuing the chase, but it gives the man extra time you couldn't afford to lose. Once it's clear, Derek hightails it down the alley until you get to the next street over. Rossi stops right beside your car, unsure of where to go now.

This street is empty but there are no signs of the man or his cab anywhere. You're forced to split up, so Derek takes the right and Rossi takes the left.

"Alright, Y/N, use that nose of yours. Where is he?"

"Keep going straight. Follow this road all the way down." It's easy to hide from the police when it's dark outside and there are alleys everywhere, but it's hard to hide from someone like you. "Okay, slow down. He made a right into this one. He might be lying in wait."

"Got it."

Derek turns into the alley and you can see the outline of a car on the other side of it. Knowing he is caught, the headlights turn on and the man starts backing out of the alley from the other side. Derek presses on the gas to get to him faster, but the man escapes the alley with ease.

He swiftly turns the car and starts heading east to an intersection of a main road. Rossi and Hotch catch up to you at the intersection, nearly touching the cab's back bumper. The man turns back to see just how far you are, so he doesn't see a work truck backing out of a business. The man turns back forward and swerves to the left to avoid hitting the work truck.

However, there is a crane right in front of him that he doesn't avoid. His cab smashes into the crane, and it takes the top off like a can opener. There is no way the man survived that. Derek slams on the brakes right before you can crash, and you gasp at the outcome.

Like you said, this man wasn't going to let them take him alive whether this was accidental or not.

The good news is that Ansia is going to be okay. She might need therapy but she wasn't physically hurt by him.

This wasn't one of the worst cases you've ever been on but it'll stick with you as one of the more adrenaline-induced ones. You're glad to be back home where you can focus on your birthday with your fiance. Your birthday is on Sunday but Spencer planned something for Saturday night, and he won't tell you what it is.

He makes you wear a blindfold so that you don't ruin the surprise before he's ready to show it to you. However, the second you step foot onto the sand, you have an idea of where you two are at. That, and the smell of the ocean fills your senses.

"I'm sure you already know where we are, but take off your blindfold." You do and you gasp when you see a picnic set up on the sand overlooking the sunset at the beach. "I know you love the beach so I figure what better way than to enjoy some food on it."

"This is amazing, baby. Really, this is awesome."

"I might have gotten Penelope to help me cook most of the food, but the rest was all me."

"I love it. I bet it's delicious."

You two sit on the big blanket. To avoid a fire, there are battery-powered candles around the picnic to give it a romantic glow. Instead of reaching for the food, Spencer reaches for a present that's sitting right next to it and hands it to you. You can't help but rip open the wrapping paper like a child on Christmas Day.

Inside is a care package filled with self-care items like soaps, face masks, makeup, and other items you know you'll use. Alongside that is a certificate for a spa weekend trip that you'll take Em, JJ, and Penelope on. Then, at the very bottom is a ring box but instead of a ring, it's a beautiful blue sapphire necklace.

"Oh, my God, Spencer. This is beautiful. I would have been happy with the other things. This must have cost you a fortune."

"Nothing is too expensive for you. I figured you could wear this at our wedding. This can be your something blue."

You look up at him with tears in your eyes. You lean in and kiss him with every ounce of love that you have.

"I love you."

He rests his forehead on yours.

"I love you."

"Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it." - Vladimir Nabokov

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite

23 notes · View notes

thesiltverses · 1 year ago

Note

Diff anon but: thank you for your opinion on the new True Detective. It's been tempting me but I'm kinda picky Abt "murder mystery detective" type stories. Would you recommend the first 3 seasons? Your work is amazing!

Hello and thank you!

With caveats and of course a reminder to check the content beforehand, I'd definitely recommend Season 1 of True Detective - not least because it was a source of inspiration for TSV but also a few other recent genre-hopping works, like Disco Elysium.

Since we were talking about Bong Joon-Ho last week, I think Memories of Murder is a pretty good comparison in terms of atmosphere, tone, unease, and ambiguity (albeit without the dark slapstick violence). Both works effectively capture the dread, wonder, and rising terror of peeling back a rock at the bottom of the garden and finding something horrible writhing underneath.

I do have strong personal disagreements with some of the writing choices: the show explicitly and thoughtfully grapples with the pessimistic cosmic-horror idea that we might learn an unbearable truth at the heart of all things which destroys us and drives us mad (in the Ligotti quotes, in the Chambers references, in the theme song itself) - it ultimately ends up disagreeing with that notion, but in my opinion it never produces any particularly satisfying or interesting counter-arguments on its own behalf.

It's a well-read show and actively explores human beings' tendency to regurgitate narrative and philosophy in the pursuit of meaning, but also flirts itself with outright plagiarism to an extent that I find inappropriate (it is, after all, a big-bucks HBO programme cribbing from comic-books and relatively impoverished horror writers).

It's consciously attempting to skewer male entitlement, male self-mythologising and misogyny within a heightened framework that turns the toxic-masculinity angle of detective shows up to 11 (female characters all appear either indoors or close to the threshold; only dead women are allowed in the wilderness. All of the female characters are effectively imprisoned, with no real ability to alter their circumstances onscreen other than through offering or withholding sex) but I think it sometimes falls headlong into the trap of 'be careful that you are not mistaken for the object of your satire'.*

Season 2 feels like a scabrous, frenetic, not particularly enjoyable meta-commentary on the response to Season 1 (Seven Psychopaths to the In Bruges of S1). Season 3 in turn is stolid and heartfelt, an over-cautious course-correction to an incautious course-correction.

I'd try S1 and see what you think.

*likewise, the show is openly about, and critical of, whiteness and heteronormativity, but its narrative utilisation of black characters and a single queer character in the margins of the story is something that has its own unintended consequences and, I think, failings.

50 notes · View notes

thelustybraavosimaid · 1 year ago

Text

Bro you just killed my Kid Cudi listening sesh for this. How many times are we going to go over this with you people for fuck's sake

Rhaelya stans hate Sansa because...

Let me stop you right there. I am a Rhaelya, a Jonrya, and a Jon stan. I don't think about Sansa unless I'm forced to. My hyperfixation is on certain characters. Sansa isn't on my radar enough for me to hate her. Like Jon, I feel little else but indifference for her.

Sansa being a hostage makes Lyanna...look like she was a hostage...because there are parallels in both their situations.

But it's *not* a parallel, and here's exactly why.

Rhaegar is not like Joffrey.

Rhaegar actually died with Lyanna's name on his lips, as was confirmed in the official World of Ice and Fire App.

He was also described as a "love-struck prince" by the author himself:

At last I was able to ask him the question I had sent for the tombola. I have always been fascinated by how ASOIAF embodies the theories put forward by Acemoglu and Robinson about countries with extractive institutions (which hamper development). So my question was: Why do you think the political institutions in the Seven Kingdoms are so weak? His answer: the Kingdom was unified with dragons, so the Targaryen's[sic] flaw was to create an absolute monarchy highly dependent on them, with the small council not designed to be a real check and balance. So, without dragons it took a sneeze, a wildly incompetent and megalomaniac king, a love struck prince, a brutal civil war, a dissolute king that didn't really know what to do with the throne and then chaos. Interesting answer.

[Source]

Joffrey had no real love for Sansa. He saw her as an object to mistreat and misuse. He had no empathy and a deep lack of consideration for other people. He had her beaten because it gave him momentary gratification, because he was a psychopath. How is this comparable in any way to Lyanna at the tower of joy?

In fact, the whole point of what we are finding out about Rhaegar through Dany's chapters is to prove that Rhaegar is literally not the monster Robert has been making him out to be. That all Robert has said was due of his blind hatred of him and little more. So again, how is Lyanna's experiences in the tower of joy comparable to Sansa being beaten and harmed as a hostage in King's Landing?

How could this be a parallel, and can you back your claim with anything other than headcanons that have no basis in the books?

There is a reason why the tale of the winter rose was told to Jon specifically — because Bael the Bard and the Stark maiden is analogous to Rhaegar and Lyanna.

George says this about romance:

It's interesting, to get back to this issue of romance that you raised earlier. When I was in Spain a few years ago, I had dinner with a woman — a Spanish academic — and a big fan of both science fiction and romance, and she had read a lot of my stuff because people said I was a very romantic writer. And she sort of launched at me and said, "What are you talking about?! You are not a romantic writer, you know. Nobody ever lives happily ever after in your books!"

I was defending it, saying, "Well, but that's a different tradition of romance. I don't — I'm a romantic writer in the tradition of The Great Gatsby and Romeo and Juliet, and, you know, the Beauty and the Beast. These things don't necessarily have happy endings, but aren't the most powerful romances the unfulfilled romances — the romances where people go their separate ways, but they'll always have Paris, like in Casablanca, one of the films I showed here. You know, they go separate at the end, but they'll always have Paris." And she basically said, "No, you're wrong. They have to be happily ever after together for it to be romance, otherwise it's just sad."

[Source—clip starts at around 03:19]

This traditional telling of romance is shown quite clearly with both Bael the Bard with the Winter Rose and Rhaegar with Lyanna. Bael the Bard's tale was briefly happy:

No. They had been in Winterfell all the time, hiding with the dead beneath the castle. The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son, the song says...though if truth be told, all the maids love Bael in them songs he wrote.

But also ended in tragedy:

"The song ends when they find the babe, but there is a darker end to the story. Thirty years later, when Bael was King-beyond-the-Wall and led the free folk south, it was young Lord Stark who met him at the Frozen Ford...and killed him, for Bael would not harm his own son when they met sword to sword."

"So the son slew the father instead," said Jon.

"Aye," she said, "but the gods hate kinslayers, even when they kill unknowing. When Lord Stark returned from the battle and his mother saw Bael's head upon his spear, she threw herself from a tower in her grief. Her son did not long outlive her. One o' his lords peeled the skin off him and wore him for a cloak." (Jon VI, ACoK)

Rhaegar left to fight in the War of the Usurper, lost and died. Lyanna died giving birth to Jon. And Jon died trying to save "Arya" from Ramsay.

This is what George means by a romantic love story.

And they also love Arya, because...Arya...looks like Lyanna

Or maybe we just like Arya because she's a fantastic character. Idk OP, could be that.

and isn't as hyper feminine as Sansa

This ties in quite well to the misogyny some "fans" of the series have to women like Arya. It's not because Sansa is "hyper feminine" that I don't care for her. I'm just indifferent to her. Femininity has absolutely nothing to do with it. I don't know if you know, but women can and do express themselves in different ways.

therefore her fans think she aligns with Rhaegar

?????????????

because they...hate Sansa and pretend its a love story

That is 100% the way George is taking R+L's story. This is quite literally his preferred telling of a romantic story. One where they share a brief affection for one another despite the eventual consequences, but end up separated, or worse.

Even though the point of Lyanna Stark is that her untold narrative is comparative to both Sansa and Arya

How is Lyanna's narrative comparative to Sansa? The only thing you've given was a non-parallel of being in the Red Keep/tower of joy, but there's nothing to suggest that Lyanna was trapped, beaten, or harmed there.

The king frowned. "A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it."

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert's hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. (Eddard II, AGoT)

For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not. (Eddard IX, AGoT)

You do not find it strange that the brother of the woman who was supposedly trapped and imprisoned at the tower of joy has no ill words to say about the man who supposedly committed such heinous crimes?

#asoiaf

62 notes · View notes

thejollywriter · 1 year ago

Text

where did Delilah Jones come from? (pt 1)

Skinner sat quietly in a dark archives on the south end of Redwood proper. Papago Welles was to the south, the Obsidian Pearle the north, and all around him, a kind of anonymity where counties find their borders.

The console glowed brightly, the only source in the dark archive aside from the green EXIT sign above the door, far away.

He leaned back, closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, tried to sooth the growing ache therein. He'd asked around about this Jones character when he'd arrived. It's what his contract stipulated, his mission was singular, but he was neither reckless not foolish.

He'd never failed to apprehend and annihilate his prey. But every target began with research. Know thine enemy, and catch them with their hubris, exploit their patterns, their blind spots.

These points of weakness weren't always easy to find, but there were always indicators of a fault in the metaphysical weld.

But for Delilah Jones, he had a contradictory confusion. His client had a veritable mountain of information that detailed the supposed personality of the target. Except, despite the depth of information, it offered almost no clarity.

The confessionals, stories and encounters drawn from any of a hundred cases that'd occurred across the city of Redwood, California, detailed a singularly driven person with an unparalleled appetite for violence and an unyielding willingness to dish it out.

Such people are not subtle. They are not careful. Skinner's experience reflected a simple reality. Psychopaths such as this are not prone to caution, nor self-preservation.

Which means there'd be evidence, tangible reports, that reflect the reality of such a person. Police reports, news articles, blog posts, incident statements. Dispassionate observers that deal in fact, not speculation.

And yet there was frightening little. Almost no reports. A single police incident where a massive bounty was placed on her head by late CEO Michael Lense. The bounty had been considered collected immediately before a catastrophic PR disaster detailed the ways a vast segment of Redwood's law-enforcement community were criminally compromised by the same CEO.

And nothing before, or since.

But he found a vaguely related thread. The name, Delilah Amelia Jones, was not as old as the thirty-something 'freelancer,' that roamed Redwood.

Pull the thread. The name was legalized seven years ago. And a different name was surrendered in order to assume the new identity.

The thread unspooled rapidly.

Jones was an orphan. Lost her parents, both, in a tragic car accident that miraculously spared her life. She was put into the care of a paternal uncle, the only living family of direct relation that could be found. She was thirteen years old at the time. Reports do not give a reason, but Delilah chafed viciously under her new circumstance.

All of this took place far north from here, in Seattle, Washington, and its outlying counties.

She made a habit of running afoul of law enforcement for fighting, gambling, and hustling, in and out of juvenile detention for the next four years, until she just up and disappeared.

There's only one further incident, when she was twenty-two. During this event, the bodies of four Italian mobsters were found dead, and despite her strongly being suspected, she was released based on lack of evidence and witnesses.

This was the end of her saga in Seattle. Six months, address chance, and this mysterious hooligan brought her traveling circus of violence and chaos to Redwood. And that's when things got really interesting.

***

Not to break character but this is an interesting idea I've had lurking in my brain that I'm going to write as short little narrative bursts that tell the story, from a slight distance, of Delilah's origins. I'll do similar things to talk about Redwood, and where the fictional city came from.

All of this comes from an effort to simply share more of my favorite OC, a righteous gunslinger living in the lawless Cyberpunk city of Redwood, California.

We'll see Skinner again as he tries to come to grips with the LEGEND that is Delilah Jones.

Until next time, if you want to read her exploits yourself, here's a link. Dollar gets access, and from there, there's TWELVE stories to sink your teeth into.

Thanks for reading <3

#the adventures of delilah jones #the redwood files #the jolly writer speaks #lgbt books #lgbt writers

2 notes · View notes

marthashlyn3 · 1 year ago

Text

The entire point.

God this entire time: “Y’all still don’t see these consistencies Marthashlyn is pointing out?! It is truly the end of days. Hold on! Get tf out of my places of business! And these two are MFEO because I’ve declared it so since they were born! Don’t tell me what to do. Stay in your place. ..And I’ve reimagined the prophecy in revelation. 😏”

Also God: “With these two together, I can get more work done. I need them together NOW!”

Also God: “I want a wedding for those two.”

Me: “I think they’ve gotten the message boss. 🫡👩🏾‍🔬👩🏾‍🎨”

Also me: “Do you all know how long our celestial spirit has been catching our attention speaking as loud as he has been for us high vibrational to instantly pay attention?”

Le monde is waiting for the bird class on the farm to get it together. The farm animals too. Y’all still human to me too. And the story is clear. Just eyes & leveling of oxygen & salt in the water. It’s greeky too. The lining is golden and the background is gray.

The real tea while the adults try to fix the spiritual issue that arose around 2016; I’ve entered gracefully of age around 2020.

See how I could point it out since then & many still do what they want to do? I’m waiting for God still. It’s interesting 🤔

Many suddenly wanted to attack me & I’m only a new entrepreneur focused on my spiritual growth.

A mass majority of people are never present as a whole. Mind, body, & spirit.

Witchcraft and perversion like crazy since our last senior pastor’s dismissal is evident everywhere every day.

Psycho mania as a result of being cursed by the lord for God knows what is also evident.

Many are lost in extreme self-comparison in feeling inadequate, overcompensating, burnt out.

Many are stuck in an extreme state of flight or fight.

Many are also sleep deprived from spiritual menaces & stress.

Private time for many are still interrupted by spiritual menaces who are actually terrorists for illogical reasons pertaining themselves never discussed too; many only pray & sing to keep rooted in their personal spiritual journeys.

The seven deadly sins are blindly linked. Many cannot stop. They’re blind in what they are doing & cursed.

An extremely perverted & corrupted reproved favorite is the real source of these issues with her boatload of parallel equals. Elderly & young adults alike. While all, also seeking to be loved by someone who wants nothing to do with them. As do many others. Lost in that. Their ears don’t work.

Others show evidence of extortion & exploitation, slaving and whoring one another, seeking to have that pass on the next generation

So, yeah the devil amongst plenty still..

I’m also a light worker providing insight as I grow on my journey.

Grey space simulator energy while I am not present in the room or stretching off to the side somewhere listening to music will not continue.

I only feel that energy. A serious grey spell with people stuck in a primitive psychopathic criminal state barely able to directly communicate was 2 to 3 sabbaths now. Lost in a traumatic way. They don’t even realize it.

I’ve walked the track at the park for 2 sabbaths in a row now. Spirit led. A third time, I’ve only stared at the building. I know nothing. Just energy change. After church, I only do my energy conversion.

Extreme reality falling apart & coming back together things. “Checkerboard” to me. A black whole may show up there.

I’ve already walked through a rip of white space there too a while ago. SOBER. Completely dry.

All of this, is added to God’s organic chemistry at work and chakra voodoo/Matilda tricks shared with the general public, among many other things

My reserved and I are waiting for a peaceful transition to be in completion, although, everything was finalized formerly in the lord.

#whole point #consistency #active psalms #an actual conversation #harmonic alignment #growth #entire point #life problems #checkerboard chemistry #I’m no doctor #attention seeking people #spiritual terrorism #Tired Trinity #trying hopeful #testimonial #SSVU

4 notes · View notes