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official-weasley · 4 years ago

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Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: cursing, mentions of alcohol, struggling with self-love, emotional self-destructive behavior, and mentions of mental health problems

Chapter 19

Rhylee

“I am so glad that you’re a Muggle-born.” I shifted on my heel, turning away from the mirror to Lyla who was laying in her bed, her head resting on her crossed arms, her eyes on me.

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me.” Confusion creased her face. “It’s supposed to be a compliment, right?”

“Yes.” I grinned at her. “If you weren’t Muggle-born, you wouldn’t know about therapy, and the therapist you recommended me might have just saved my life.” By inhaling sharply I turned back to the mirror and stared at my figure.

“It’s been all you, darling. You have to want help to actually gain something from therapy.” I locked my eyes with hers in the mirror.

I loved nothing more than her friendly smile. She was the best friend I could ask for and I am the luckiest person alive for her not to give up on me.

“I know.” I turned around to look at my arse.

“Can you stop checking yourself out in the mirror? The dress looks great on you!” She rolled her eyes at me.

“I don’t know.” I pouted. “Perhaps the blue one would be better.”

“You do realize that we have been doing nothing else but picking your dress for the last two days.” She smirked at me.

“Don’t give me that face! I’m nervous, okay!” I stomped my foot against the floor as if angry.

In reality, I was just hoping to calm down my nerves.

“It’s time to move on, Rhylee. You said it yourself that your therapist said it’s time you forgive yourself.” She stood up and took the blue dress which was hanging over the dresser door and took it off the hanger. “But just in case, try this one again.” She winked.

I appreciated how supportive she was. She was all I had left.

I was such a mess. I still can’t believe that I let myself get so low. I hit rock bottom and then went even deeper. It’s a miracle what 6 months of therapy can do for a person. How do wizards not have that!

Perhaps, they are afraid of the pain that it brings. Because it was painful. Especially the first few sessions when the therapist is getting to know you and you start figuring out what your problem is. I knew what it was. I just couldn’t get over it.

Everybody telling me it was an accident doesn’t just make the guilt disappear. It doesn’t make you feel better. You don’t just forget about it. When you do what I did, you don’t just move on. But as I learned from my sessions, you can’t blame yourself forever either. Forgiveness and loving myself was something that was missing from my life.

It’s crazy to think that so many people around you keep telling you that it wasn’t your fault and that you can’t just go around and search for things that will make you miserable just to punish yourself and you never believe them and always brush it off. But when you hear it from someone specialized to tell you things like this, you suddenly think that maybe, just maybe all your friends were right.

Of course, it didn’t happen overnight and I even tried convincing Dr. Whitmoore that I will never stop blaming myself for what happened in my seventh year at Beauxbatons but I got there…eventually.

“So what are you going to say to him?” Lyla asked as she zipped the dress for me.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I bit my cheek. “I don’t even know if he’ll want to talk to me.”

“Right.” She raised her eyebrows at me and laid back on her bed. “Are we going to go through this again?”

“I’m serious! I’m just going there to celebrate the love between two people.” I finally stopped looking at myself in the mirror.

I still don’t know which dress to pick.

“Mhm.” Lyla nodded once. “Let’s pretend that you have been picking out a dress for this wedding because you want to be there for Bill when he says his ‘I do’ with his future wife.”

“It’s…the main reason.” I proudly lifted my chin.

“Stop lying to yourself, love. This is all about Charlie Weasley.” She sent me a wink, got up, and went to the bathroom.

She was right. It was all about Charlie. There is no point in denying it any further. It has been all about him ever since Bill brought me home to meet his family for Christmas. I still remember the moment we were introduced as if it was yesterday.

He enchanted me the moment I sat down opposite him. With his smile and eyes full of passion about the creatures we both worked with. I know he wasn’t doing it on purpose but he was so flirty. With his eyes, his gestures. I just couldn’t stop staring at him.

And the feeling, the feeling I got while talking to him. I never felt that before and it was so strange. I knew Bill for years and here I was talking to his younger brother and it was as if someone ignited a fire between us. And the strangest part was that I am certain he felt it too.

The second I allowed the feeling to overwhelm me, fill my body with energy like nothing ever did before, my past came back to haunt me. I couldn’t sleep that night. The nightmares came back. Sweat running down my temples. I was glad Ginny was a heavy sleeper, she would think I was insane. Nobody in England knew my secret. It was the reason I ran away.

I buried the feelings, guilt and constant need to punish myself, make myself suffer and got the job at Gringotts. I was doing great for 3 years. I was quite proud of myself. I wasn’t hurting anyone and I didn’t let anyone get too close to me.

I allowed myself a fling here and there and I was happy with the way my life was. I could totally see myself doing this for the rest of my life and I was completely fine with it.

I was lying to everybody including myself when I said I didn’t know Bill fancied me but I ignored it, hoping he would move on if I seemed uninterested. Not that I wouldn’t want to date him. Are you serious, it’s Bill freaking Weasley, who wouldn’t want to date him!

But I made a promise to myself. I couldn’t. I knew what a good guy he was and I couldn’t allow myself to be happy. I didn’t deserve it.

I never expected him to get hurt because of my foolishness. Getting drunk and having sex with Charlie was a big mistake that I shouldn’t have allowed. Not that it wasn’t good, damn it was great and I let myself go and forgot about everything just for one night. Charlie had that effect on me. He made me forget about my worries and my troubles, even if just for a little while.

And how stupid it was of me to flirt with him the morning after and telling him it wasn’t just a one-night stand. What was I thinking! I should’ve just ignored the situation and moved on. But I couldn’t and I hated that I couldn’t. Something was pulling me closer to him. The curiosity of getting to know him better. To hear him talk about dragons. To feel his touch again. His lips against mine. His breath on my skin.

I had zero control over myself and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. Of course, the aftermath was something I didn’t expect. Bill asking me out was the last thing I wanted and then I was stupid enough to tell him I slept with his brother. The look on his face, telling me just how much I hurt him broke my heart.

I broke my promise of not hurting anyone and everything from my past came rushing back up. I didn’t dare to ask Bill if he and Charlie talked about the whole situation. I was even surprised when only a month later Bill started speaking to me again. I definitely thought I didn’t deserve that.

After that, things calmed down again and I hoped that I could put it all behind me again. I bottled everything down before, I can do it again, right?

Wrong.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie and it was driving me mad. Lyla, Lizzie, and I got drunk one night and they teased me and said that I should go work in Romania to be with him. My dumb arse actually wrote an application and we sent it that night. The second I realized what I have done in the morning I applied for the American Sanctuary too to calm the guilty feeling in my chest.

I can’t be trusted when I’m drunk. I relax too much and forget about my past and make mistakes like having sex with Charlie at the Burrow and then my actions hurt people and I feel even worse.

But the second I got the reply, seeing how excited they were to work with me I got so conflicted. They were offering me my dream job but I wanted to stop myself from accepting it because I knew Charlie worked there. I couldn’t face him, not even after more than a year.

However, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling the excitement brought me either. I just had to see him again. I wanted to talk to him and tell him everything. I accepted the job anyway, despite my better judgment. I was selfish, I know that now. I should never have done it, my mind being in a state as it was back then.

I don’t think I was ever so nervous as I was when I was standing in front of the Sanctuary gate. I tried calming myself down by thinking that perhaps I will work in an entirely different section than him and we even won’t see each other.

I couldn’t believe how wrong I was when I saw him approaching the gate. I wanted to apparate away, be swallowed by the ground below me, be fed to a dragon. I knew I made another mistake the second I saw the look on his face.

I know he wasn’t expecting me to stand there, how could he. It pained me to know that he wasn’t exactly happy to see me but at the same time, it gave me confidence. Perhaps, we can work side by side with each other and simply be friends.

The fact that I am never right about these things and usually the opposite happens could already tell me that it was only going to go downhill from there.

I tried staying away from him but I was pushing myself into him just as much. I just couldn’t help myself. In a different life, if I wasn’t as fucked up as I was, we could’ve been so happy together. I knew that and it hurt so much knowing that. What hurt, even more, was the look in his eyes every time we exchanged looks.

I knew how he felt, I knew he was falling for me and it was wrong. It was so wrong and I felt so helpless knowing I can’t do anything about it because I felt the exact same way. I was falling for him so fast that I didn’t even have the time to stop myself and at some point, I simply gave up trying.

The fact that everything that was happening between us was happening while I had a boyfriend waiting patiently for me to visit him once every 14 days made me an even worse person. I never wanted any of it to happen.

I knew I did the right thing finally giving in to all the nagging and going out with Nick. He was the only man I saw a future with because I knew how wrong he was for me but it was exactly what I deserved. An idiot without an ounce of empathy or feelings for anyone else but himself. For me, it was a match made in heaven and I knew that nobody would understand why I thought so.

I knew what I deserved. I wanted to be punished. I wanted bad things to happen to me so I could finally redeem myself for what I have done all those years ago. But nobody understood why I was doing it. Why be with a guy who doesn’t even make you happy instead of someone loving and kind?

Lyla got into so many fights with me over this. Many more than Charlie did. I know he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He caught me crying so many times because of Nick, because of my guilt, because of his gestures that told me just how much he cared for me.

And what did I do? I got drunk and had sex with him. Way to go, Rhylee! Way to break so many hearts, you idiotic bitch!

That night we spent together was the most beautiful night of my life. It showed me how happy I could be with him. How much joy he could bring me. He showed me my future with him and all I could think about was how wrong it was. How I have to run away from everything. What a horrible person I was to do this to him.

There was a moment when I thought about telling him everything but stopped at the last second. Truth be told, there were many moments like this and he knew it. He knew I had so many things I wanted to say to him but simply couldn’t. I was a coward, locked inside a loop of my own mind.

What I did at Beauxbatons was still haunting me at the time. The fact that everybody forgave me haunted me. That I begged the Ministry to send me to Azkaban and they laughed at my plea, telling me that people don’t go to prison for making a simple mistake.

That’s what they called it. A simple mistake.

A simple mistake that almost ruined my life and because of which I made so many people around me suffer. They just didn’t see it as I did and I knew they never would. But did that give me closure? Did that make me stop feeling sorry for myself and move on with my life?

No.

I was determined that if they weren’t going to punish me and lock me up, I will do it to myself. I wanted to completely destroy my life for it and be miserable as much as I can be. I will date a guy I know doesn’t love me and pretend I can’t hear the screaming voice inside my head telling me to be with Charlie because he’s the one.

He has been from the moment we shook hands and started talking about dragons.

I closed all the doors that could bring me happiness. I tried so hard to stay away yet I couldn’t. Yet I hurt him and Bill and even Nick in the process. They all suffered because I wanted to bring pain to myself.

How fucked up is that?

All because I just couldn’t stay away. No matter how destructive my mind was, no matter how much I was telling myself that I don’t deserve someone like Charlie, my body and my heart were guiding me right to him and I didn’t have the strength to stop it.

A few weeks after I told Nick and he told me that I have to stay away from Charlie, something broke in me. I couldn’t do it anymore. I made Charlie so miserable and my heart shattered every time I saw him. The longing in his eyes to save me. To do something to make me feel better.

I was completely aware of the fact that I let myself go. I isolated myself, barely ate anything, and tried to work on Kyan’s case so that I would do one thing right in my fucking pathetic life.

I was naïve to think that would do the trick. That Charlie would finally let me go. Move on. Find a nice girl and settle down with her. Be happy. That’s what he deserved. That’s what I wanted for him, ignoring the fact that I wanted to be his girl more than I wanted anything in my entire life.

But he didn’t. He didn’t want to give up on me.

So I did the only thing I thought would help him move on. I left. I didn’t want to, but I did. The second Nick opened the door, me standing there with all my bags, I knew what a mistake I’ve made.

For the first time in years, I thought that perhaps I suffered enough. Perhaps it was time to stop tormenting myself. I made a decision to stay overnight and then go back to the Sanctuary and beg Peter for my job back.

That night we fought and I suddenly started to feel dizzy and everything turned black. I woke up at St Mungo’s the next day and all my plans to return to Romania fell through when the healers told me I was pregnant.

I knew I couldn’t run now. I sealed my destiny and serves me right for doing so. I brought it on myself and since I was so convinced that I deserve a life full of misery the pregnancy was just perfect. Ironic but perfect.

I didn’t expect Charlie to come to the trial. I hoped he wouldn’t come. I just left without saying goodbye and I thought that would make him mad enough for never wanting to talk to me again. But there he was and he stopped me from fleeing.

He kept pressuring me to tell him the truth. I hated how well he could read me. How well he knew I was lying and yet I fed him more lies. I already knew the pain that he must’ve felt at that moment. How confused he must’ve been for me just disappearing, for acting like I don’t care about him.

I know he needed answers and Merlin knows he deserved them more than anyone but I couldn’t. I needed him to move on. It was too late for the whole truth. It wouldn’t have done either of us any good. I was carrying Nick’s baby and there was nothing he could do about that.

If I wasn’t pregnant I know I would’ve told him everything. I wanted to return to the Sanctuary for him for fuck’s sake. But it was too late now and he needed to know that so I told him about the baby. Just reminiscing on it makes me want to throw up. The pain in his eyes when he was trying to comprehend what came out of my mouth.

The painful goodbye when he wished for me to have a good life, knowing full well that it’s probably the last time he will ever hold me in his arms. It was good closure in a fucked up kind of way. If someone with so many mental issues wrote a fairytale I am certain it would make perfect sense.

I was fighting every muscle in my body not to go after him once he started to walk away. I knew that was it. He finally did it. He is going to move on and be happy. I regretted putting him through what I did, I still do. But at least he will be able to forget about me by hating me. It was for the best.

He deserves so much better than me. Someone who will love him unconditionally and bring a smile to his face and flutter the butterflies in his stomach not put him through the shit I put him through.

I finally got what I wanted. The punishment I thought I deserved. All my self-destructive behavior finally paid off. I was pregnant and living with a man that I despised. Welcome to my bloody fairytale!

If it wasn’t for Lyla, being the best friend she is, I would probably do much worse than hurt myself mentally. She was the one that opened my eyes and got me a therapist without even asking about my opinion.

After my first session, I decided to tell her everything. What I did, what Dr. Whitmoore and I talked about. Everything. We cried, sitting on her bed for hours. She couldn’t believe I hated myself so much to do these things to myself but in the end, she told me she understood why I tried so desperately to punish myself.

I felt relief knowing she understood and still wanted to be my friend. I was so lucky to have her. I don’t even want to think where I would be if it wasn’t for her.

A/N: I know that what Rhylee is dealing with can't be solved with 6 months worth of therapy as is stated in the story. I needed to fit it in the timeline to align everything with Bill's wedding and is the only reason why I picked 6 months. One of my best friends has a Ph.D. in psychotherapy and she told me that with everything Rhylee has been through (to be revealed in tomorrow's chapter) it is very unrealistic that she would be as fine as I wrote her to be - I am fully aware of that. I apologize if I made anyone uncomfortable with it or if anyone finds it offensive in any way.

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

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khali-shabd · 4 years ago

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Mental Health and COVID-19

The human brain is more complex than any other known structure in the universe. Made of billions of neurons, the brain has the capacity to store millions of gigabytes of data- memories about our past, moments of the present, hypotheses about the future- and it has learned to perform hundreds of functions at the same time. The in-and-out of your breathing, the wave-like peristalsis of your food pipe, the pumping of your cardiac muscles all occur at the same time as your brain sends and receives emotional signals, dispatches hormones that change your mood, and comprehends what is going on in your surroundings at the moment. However, it stands to reason that just like any other organ, the brain can also technically fall sick.

Like a broken bone, or a fever, your brain can face problems too- it can feel low, it can be ill-. but the way people and the society they form treat this sickness can be problematic. Often, we can even be part of the problem without even knowing it. The way we react to physical ailments drastically differs from the way we treat mental issues. There is a heavy, dark stigma revolving around mental illness, depicting it as a sinful, evil thing, but in reality a mental illness is no different from a regular sickness. When you have a broken bone, you just don’t ‘get over it’ and start walking. When you have the flu, you can’t just ignore your symptoms and keep moving as if nothing is wrong because you physically can’t. But this is the way people talk, think about and discuss mental illness. It can be alienating and painful to those suffering from it due to no fault of their own, and this mindset can even serve to worsen pre-existing symptoms. It’s just... not fair.

Now, especially, in these frightening, unpredictable times, mental health comes to the fore just as important as physiological health. We suddenly found ourselves living in a strange new normal, stuck within the four walls of our homes, distant from our friends and loved ones. We find ourselves trying to adjust to these circumstances nobody has really experienced before, diving headfirst into a routine we know nothing of- be it online school, work-from-home, video conventions, making connections on the internet- it’s all incredibly new and confusing and scary for everyone going through it. With our social circle being reduced to just a few family members, with the amount of time spent staring slack-jawed at the screen almost doubling, we find ourselves being cared for and taken care of reducing drastically. We present a version of ourselves to the screens, and we tend to hide what’s really wrong, and because of this it becomes increasingly difficult to check in on your loved ones and care for them. This also means that they can’t do the same for you, and we all feel lost for things to do to help each other fit into this new life. We tend to feel overwhelmed; with anxiety for the health of those we love, depression and loneliness from this isolation and repetition, endless fear and worry for the state of our planet. We feel stress and tiredness from the extra work we have to do to maintain our houses, finances and schoolwork; moodiness and irritability from being stuck inside the food walls of our homes; and a panicked hopelessness from everything going on right now.

It’s important to recognize when you are not doing okay.

It’s important to understand that these are not normal times, and that it is okay to not be doing okay. I myself often struggle with really being honest with my feelings, and being able to recognize when things are too much for me; but over the years I’ve also come to the conclusion that not expressing how I feel does no good to me or the people around me. All the pent up emotion can be released all at once in a very negative way, which can actually alienate those who love you and care for you by something that is no fault of their own. It is essential to every once in a while, look at yourself and ask- am I doing okay? And if your answer is ‘no��, do not beat yourself up over it. It is normal, it is fine, and it is valid if you feel not normal. However, you need to communicate this to people around you so that they can help you through this. If you have access to a mental health professional, try talking to them.

Last, but not least, take care of yourself. I know that there will be a lot of people encouraging you to work endlessly during this time, quoting ‘Shakespeare wrote King Lear while he was quarantined’, but again, none of us are Shakespeare. You owe it to yourself to detox, clear your mind, relax and take care of your mental and physical health during all of this extra free time. Take this time to focus on your hobbies! Exercise (just for the dopamine high), or take up yoga. The possibilities are endless, and so is your time.

792 million people have experienced some sort of mental health issue in their lifetimes. Multitudes remain undiagnosed.

#mental health #pandemic #coronavirus #covid-19 #self care #writing #write #non fiction #article

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morievna · 5 years ago

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Parallels between Yuki and Ugetsu and what they tell about past and future

In my earlier posts I alluded to fact that I find similarities between Yuki and Ugetsu – now I want to dig this topic more deeper to show what I exactly mean by this. After all one of reasons why I love Given so much is it how different couples foil each other at many levels. It is almost as we are presented the same struggle in different ways. This struggle is about finding balance in life - between music and love/normal life. Or if to put it in more abstract terms – between spiritual and mundane aspects. In this meta I intend to depict parallels between Ugetsu and Yuki and then use them as base to speculate on the latter’s choices. At the end I will try to predict how it can be handled in Mafuyu’s story-line in the future.

Since it is heavy topic I want to put disclaimer that I am no psychologist and I will look on this mostly how it was presented in narrative. Just keep it in mind that it is my interpretation and feel free to disagree.

Both of look here as they were in their own world, aren’t they?

Warnings: long post, spoilers and mention of suicide

Parallels between Yuki and Ugetsu are mostly indirect and tied to how they are presented in their relationships with respectively Mafuyu and Akihiko. Let’s start then from very beginning of these couples:

As you see both Akihiko and Mafuyu are in dark/shadow place in literal and metaphorical way. Both of them had problems with parents and were not getting enough love from them – Mafuyu had abusive father and Akihiko’s parents were neglectful and caught in their own drama. Their lives changed significantly when they met “light” (both Ugetsu and Yuki are standing in sunlight), who provided them with attention and love. Apart from it there is also motive of mutual understanding - Yuki empathized with Mafuyu because he had no father, and Ugetsu was first to recognize that Akihiko is delicate/sensitive person deep down. As trivia I want to add that these both encounters took place in summer.

No matter how they turned out later it is important that at first these relationships were positive for both parties and allowed them to find love, belonging and safety in their lives. We are shown Yuki acting very protective around Mafuyu a lot in flashbacks and it was Ugetsu who offered his house to Akihiko when the latter was homeless due to parent’s divorce. After all there is reason why both Akihiko are Mafuyu are having trouble of letting go of past and treasure these memories despite the pain.

Both pairings have strong soulmates vibes:

We are literally told this by Hiiragi and it is emphasized by ginkgo's leaves, which symbolize duality. In Akihiko/Ugetsu case it is shown too in a bit subtler way – they are almost always in black/dark and light/white clothes (something that anime picked up too) and in color illustrations are often used red and blue/green, which are complementary according to color theory. And stands count as well – Yataragasu (symbol for sun) and squirrel (symbol for earth).

By opposites we should take into consideration not only personality traits, but what I mentioned at start – mundane and spiritual (music) aspects. In other Kizu Natsuki’s original works there is similar pattern in couples too – where one person has more down-to-earth attitude and second one is more thinking of ideas in abstract terms. I like how this was put in words in blurb from “Yukimura-sensei to Kei-kun” – as providing spiritual nourishment to another person.

Both Yuki and Ugetsu’s talents are called in similar terms – something special and otherworldly. Unfortunately, this had not only inspirational but negative effect too– Akihiko abandoned his dreams and I assume that Mafuyu probably too felt overwhelmed since he waited for Yuki’s initiative to work together on music instead of actively asking about it.

Both Mafuyu and Akihiko are making strong association between love and instruments played respectively by Yuki and Ugetsu – as if guitar and violin was symbolically token of love. Just think how Akihiko compared explicitly his love to Ugetsu to love for playing violin in chapter 27. In addition to holding guitar all time in beginning Mafuyu’s songs are thematically connected to Yuki – first about pain of losing him and second about acceptance of his death and moving forward. It is a bit fascinating how music can be both positive and destructive. Thanks to music Akihiko and Ugetsu got to understand each other, but it also effected in split when it wasn’t balanced in life like in Mafuyu and Yuki’s case. It is a bit alike a Force in Star Wars.

And just like in Star Wars – without balance everything falls apart:

Though Akihiko is talking about Ugetsu and Mafuyu here, I think the same applied to Yuki. We know that after going to high school Yuki went to job to buy guitar. It was highlighted that it was expensive model, so he must spent a lot of time working to obtain it. And don’t forget that in his house single mother was only source of income, so he probably helped in paying fees and things like that too. To sum it all up he spent considerable amount of time on job to buy guitar and then later probably even more in studio playing – his life was basically dedicated to music at this point, no wonder that Mafuyu felt out place and strain appeared in their relationship.

And I think I don’t have to point out examples about Ugetsu spending really most of his time on music? Even though he got talent, he is practicing really hard to be at the highest level.

So let’s move from music to normal life.

It has similar vibe, doesn’t it?

Since both Ugetsu and Yuki are very immersed in music their basic needs are taken care by respectively Akihiko and Mafuyu. We have multiple instances in story where Akihiko is worried about Ugetsu’s well-being (like eating properly and so on). With Yuki there is only that one occasion, but I won’t be surprised if there will be more if we get more flashbacks.

Of course remember that both aspect are equally important and it very important to have them covered in life. According to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs we must find every one of the elements needed to seek fulfillment and change through personal growth.

And as you see love is very important too – we see in Given what happens when it is missing – apathy (Mafuyu), self-neglect (Ugetsu) and losing sense of living (Akihiko).

So we have parallels covered. I think that they clearly intentional and can be used as some kind of base to figure out more about Yuki and his mindset and choices. But firstly let’s take closer look on Yuki chapter 11.5

Judging on clothes – winter ones – it seems that it took place shortly before their argument. Even though they are together there is this vibe of being distant from each other. It is bit hard to put into word feeling of this scene, but it seems like some form of goodbye from Yuki like he wanted to make more memories so Mafuyu wouldn’t forget him easily. There is clear implication that he was feeling lonely. It may be a bit of over-interpretation, but I consider it interesting that Yuki got most of piercing in high school – after spending most of his time apart from Mafuyu. In some way it can be interpreted as sign of internal pain, since Akihiko got his piercing after first breakup with Ugetsu. I think it is safe to assume that Yuki felt depressed due to loneliness and separation from Mafuyu – losing his balance in life and music could not sustain him.

Before moving to their argument, firstly let’s take closer look on reasons why Ugetsu broke up with Akihiko. Because it is not simple as love for music was just more important for him.

This decision can be examined on three levels:

Identity / afraid of change – Ugetsu’s home is such great metaphor for him – ascetic, isolated from rest of world and dedicated solely to playing music. To me it feel like he thinks that music should be his priority because he has nothing except for it and it is only thing he is good at. So he thinks that he has to put music as first, because he is nothing without it and nobody would give him attention if he doesn’t play at the highest level. Accepting his feeling to Akihiko as equally important would mean that he has to change the way his was living and identity he build for himself.

Self-guilt –he blames himself for Akihiko abandoning his dream about playing violin as pro.

Loneliness – he has no friends and his family doesn’t seems to be supportive or take active role in his life either.

I want to highlight that it was bad decision, which caused only more pain for them both. Deciding arbitrarily what is good for another person and breaking up without telling reasons is bad. It is even underlined in narrative – Ugetsu thinks of himself as coward and lowest of low. Mafuyu thinks of this as wrong too (and again another parallel):

But saying “right words” would be talking about his insecurities to Akihiko, showing vulnerable side and stopping to run from his feelings – Ugetsu was not ready for this and took “easier” path to stop suffering by pushing away Akihiko. To me it looks as he wanted to turn back to state before knowing him, but obviously it didn’t work since love changes people and shutting out feelings is not something easy.

So keep all above in mind and now let’s take look on argument between Mafuyu and Yuki:

Identity / afraid of change – even though Mafuyu stressing out that music is tearing them apart, Yuki didn’t acknowledge this and simply want Mafuyu to trust him. It all sounds that Mafuyu felt betrayed, but is seems that Yuki didn’t want to change his attitude towards spending so much time on music and acknowledge this as something wrong – so I think that music is as much important to him as to Ugetsu.

Self-guilt – during this argument Yuki had learned how much this is causing hurt, so I am assuming he too thinks that “his existence fundamentally means suffering” for Mafuyu. Like you know thinking that Mafuyu words “Would you die for me then?” meant that Mafuyu would be better or happier without him.

Loneliness – despite having friends and supportive mother Yuki is pretty alone in this – it doesn’t looks that he tried to get help or talking with them. Even though Hiiragi was just observant Yuki didn’t try to talk with him. Just look below –from the way Yuki patted Hiiragi’s arm it looks to me as Yuki tried to pretend that everything was okay.

Unlike Ugetsu he can’t turn back literally before knowing Mafuyu since they meet as kids, so this is out of option. So he decided wrongly that there is another way to permanently “end suffering” for both of them. I want to repeat what I stated earlier – it is just my interpretation and maybe something else affected him too. But looking at major themes of story – how different characters has dilemma between music and life/love I expect Yuki’s story be something similar like that. I hope too that I sounded too judgmental – I am aware from my personal experiences that changing and fixing flaws is not that easy and sometimes reaching for help from others takes a lot of courage too.

God, it was hard to write I got so emotional. Okay I recovered so moving out to:

Just to make things clear – I don’t think that Ugetsu is going to die or something like that. Parallels are often used to emphasize differences in the end. I think that he is going to make amends and seek forgiveness for hurt he caused from Akihiko. His story resembles how redemption arc are usually done, but this is big topic for another time. I firmly believe that he will get happy ending, especially since Akihiko is very forgiving.

Since Yuki isn’t protagonist we will see rest of his story through Mafuyu’s eyes. I think there are two ways:

As mentioned before Mafuyu wanted to write song together with Yuki. I suspect that this wish will be fulfilled in different way. In recent chapter Hiiragi wanted to work on some Yuki’s song together with Ritsuka. Again because Yuki was special when it comes to music I don’t think it would be easy task. It is possible that we would get to see them all together working on this as some kind of collaboration between these two bands. Who knows, maybe even we get to see Mafuyu singing it. The tone and lyrics of this song would give us new information on Yuki too. And it would be interesting to know if this song was meant by him to be gift for Mafuyu. Besides, since Mafuyu seeks often Ugetsu’s advise on music I think he will be involved too. Honesty I think that just writing new song for Given by Mafuyu could feel a bit repetitive, so this way could make things more interesting.

Some alongside this way I anticipate that Mafuyu would open up more and talk about his bottled feelings about Yuki. Probably first to Ugetsu, with whom Mafuyu feels understanding and thus mirroring chapter, where Ugetsu talked about his relationship with Akihiko. Then later with Ritsuka. To be honest I feel like waiting for this so long. Main reason why I want this to happened – I think it would be good for Mafuyu to express it all during normal conversation (not just through music like before) to make final peace with past. And to solve Ritsuka’s issues with jealousy for good. I would also love to see Mafuyu introducing Ritsuka to Yuki’s mom and/or inviting her to LIVE performance.

Secondly, I think that near end of the story we will get dream sequence with Mafuyu and Yuki. To show their final goodbye, which they didn’t have chance to do in real life. It would signify that finally Mafuyu had forgiven himself and Yuki, made peace with past and is ready to embrace wholeheartedly present and future with Ritsuka. Kizu Natsuki pulled out similar thing in her other work “Links” so I think it is quite possible. After all subtitle of Given is - “I cannot say goodbye I am still drifting in your echoes” - I think that showing their final goodbye like this would wrap story really nicely. Because in the end the core themes of story are healing, forgiveness and finding love.

So it is all for today - thanks for reading. To end it on bit lighter tone I will borrow Bob Ross’s words:

#given #given meta #given manga #given anime #mafuyu satou #satou mafuyu #yuki yoshida #yoshida yuki #yuuki yoshida #murata ugetsu #ugetsu murata #akihiko kaji #kaji akihiko #given spoilers

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theeternalspace · 5 years ago

Text

See Me in a Crown 4/?

Buckle up folks! We’re back on this madness at long last! This chapter has been sitting done for a while, but real life got in the way several times. I am pleased to say we are here at last though!

it’s another dark one, back in the Imagination, and time to see what Virgil and Roman have been up to!

Previous || Next

Masterpost

Summary: Virgil must make a choice. Damned if he does.... and damned if he doesn’t.

Word Count: 7.7k

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders. Remy Sanders.

Pairings: Still platonic, still don’t know if its gonna be romantic, Prinxiety.

Trigger Warnings: Possession/Corrupted Side, Evil!Roman, blood, threats of death, implied death, not actual death. if I missed any, please, please let me know.

~~~

“Rise and shine darling!”

Roman’s voice echoed through the room - and through Virgil’s skull. It was as bright and as cheerful as ever. As though this was one of their sleepovers the four sides would sometimes do. Or some other, innocent normal activity and not a morning with Virgil a prisoner and recovering from a wound in his leg.

Virgil hadn’t been asleep. He wasn’t sure how long he had been awake for, lying on the bed and just trying to think. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here period. Time wasn’t real in the grand scheme of things, but it was even less of a constant within the Imagination itself. He could have been here a mere five minutes as far as the rest of the mind was concerned or he could have been here for days. It was all subject to Roman’s whims, to the level of control he was pressing down on it. If he was smart - and as much as Virgil felt sick to his stomach even thinking about it, he had to admit that the Intrusive Thought had shown some level of base cunning - then he would be speeding up time as much as possible.

Anything to make the world spin faster within its little globe, to make the sun rise and set. And to make Virgil suffer. The longer he was here, the harder it was to think of getting out. The fact that nobody had come to save him yet meant either the other him was doing a really good job.

Or worse, not enough time had passed for them to know he needed saving. Which meant he could endure what would feel like weeks and weeks of this hell in no time at all. It made Virgil want to cry from either rage or fear. Honestly, he wasn’t sure anymore which. It also made him want to get out of here, the need to try and break free a constant, near overwhelming feeling.

Thoughts of escape had been quickly dashed by the sensation of a heavy cuff and chain fastened around the ankle of his good leg. No amount of tugging at it manually or mentally could so much as make it wobble. Virgil tried to reach down inside of himself for that little bit of control he had over the Imagination, but no matter how hard he reached out, only empty space waited for him.

Somehow, Roman was blocking his connection. It left him adrift and more afraid than he was willing to admit. Virgil had become so used to that sensation of being part of Thomas and his thoughts that he had long ago started to take it for granted. So much so that it felt as though a part of him had been removed, as though he were missing a limb.

It was kind of surprising that he wasn’t missing a limb, considering his last memories before the pain. The arrow that had ripped through his flesh and then the added damage as Roman had twisted it spitefully. He didn’t know how long ago he had been injured. It couldn’t have been too long because the wound was still healing. It was an ugly mess of bandages and bruises on his leg, dark purple and green splodges peeking out from under the wrapping that had been placed around it. His jeans were completely ruined, most of one leg completely hacked off, as though Roman had attached it with gusto in order to deal with the wound.

After all of that, and the half remembered dreams that followed, Virgil had expected to wake up to more pain and torture. That seemed to be this twisted version of Roman’s stock in trade after all. Instead, he had found himself lying on a large and sinfully comfortable bed. If it wasn’t for the chain trapping him to it, he might had almost felt calm.

Part of him had been surprised, and then grateful, to wake up on a bed instead of crammed back into that tiny cage. Those feelings had quickly been followed by disgust, aimed at himself. How weak and pathetic was he, that after one night and one - admittedly serious - injury, he would be grateful that he wasn’t in the cage? That was probably what Roman had been counting on. Try and wear him down that way, have his own mind turn against him and do all the work for Roman.

And now, here he was. Ready to threaten him no doubt. Virgil had to remain strong, he couldn’t give in. Ideally, he wanted to get the cuff off so he could try and escape again and that meant playing along.

For now.

He just had to keep reminding himself that it was a trick on his part. That there was no shame in bowing to the pressure for the moment if it gave him an opening down the line. And that he wasn’t actually giving in. He wasn’t that weak and pathetic. Virgil repeated that pep talk over and over in his mind, reciting it almost like a poem, letting the words flow through his thoughts in order to give him the strength he needed to actually face Roman.

But just because he was going to let him think he was feeling the stress of recent events to the degree he would give up - for the moment - that didn’t mean he had to make it too easy for the beast.

Virgil opened his eyes to look at him, expression twisted into the most unimpressed scowl he could manage. He wasn’t about to feed to the thing’s ego by appearing cowed. Not to mention, there was always the worry that he might over do it. Sure, Patton said he could never overdo it, but Virgil knew that wasn’t really the case.

If he started acting too cowed and broken, then the Thought would suspect he was up to something. It was a fine line to walk, and Virgil wasn’t sure how to do it. All he knew was that he had to try.

“Hello beautiful, are you ready for work?” Roman asked, not in the least bit fazed by the look that was being sent his way. Well, at least he hadn’t immediately worked out that Virgil was faking it and decided to hurt him again. That was a positive. Not that Virgil was normally a very positive person but he needed to hold onto that right now. Thinking about Patton helped. It also made it worse, because asking himself ‘what would Patton say’ also made him imagine what it would be like if Patton was here.

And that was something Virgil would give anything to prevent. Not his Patton. Not any of his friends in fact. This was his mess, his screw up. He had failed Roman and he had to work out a way to fix it, without getting anyone else involved because if they got involved then they might get hurt. Virgil’s eyes narrowed in distrust, examining him carefully.

“Work?”

A trap, a trap, Virgil knew it had to be a trap and yet he found himself falling for it anyway. He was curious and now more than ever, he felt the truth of the old saying about curiosity killing the cat. It had already gotten him into so much trouble since this whole nightmare had started. But wasn’t it best to ask the questions? To learn as much as he could? Roman was going to do whatever he was going to do anyway. At least if Virgil knew what was coming, he could try and think of some way to handle it.

It hadn’t worked so well for him so far but sooner or later, he was bound to get lucky. As Logan would say, statistically, he had a better chance if he asked the questions. Some part of Virgil was still convinced that Logan was wrong when it came to him, that if he had a superpower it was to sabotage that statistic, so that he was always unlucky.

“I helped you when you were ill with your infection,” Roman explained, as though it was obvious. “I even asked you if you wanted my help. You had to know there would be a price attached and now it is time to repay that debt.”

Virgil had a vague memory of that moment. Of floating, suspended somewhere between pain and bliss. With a voice that he wanted to stop talking so that he could go back to relaxing, so he could escape the reality of his situation for a little while longer. Apparently, in that state, he had made a deal with the devil.

“And... what exactly do you expect me to do, to repay you?” Virgil asked. Yet more questions, yet more opportunities to see just how far his bad luck was going to take him.

“All you have to do is sit beside me as I make my judgements. I won’t even ask you to do anything. I just want you by my side.”

That sounded easy. A little... too easy and that couldn’t be all Roman wanted. No way was that all he wanted. There was going to be some sting in the tale, some trick that he wasn’t yet aware of. If nothing else, it would be full of petty mortifying moments.

Was he actually considering this?

Going along with what had to be a trap?

Then again, realistically, what choice did he have? Bitter experience had proven to him that Roman wouldn’t take a denial of his wishes very well. Sooner or later, he would be able to resist again. Sooner, he hoped, rather than later. The alternative would be more pain and he knew still ending up in the place that Roman wanted. There would be a time to fight later, when he wasn’t getting over an infected leg wound and he could move more freely.

A voice in the back of his head pointed out that this sounded an awfully lot like giving in and justifying himself in the process. A voice that Virgil needed to ignore as he started to get out of the bed. Even sitting upright felt like an embarrassing struggle, his limbs weak and trembling after his illness.

Carefully, Virgil stood. He took a shaky, uncertain step forward, feeling his leg buckle and give out under him. If it hadn’t been for Roman catching him, he would have fallen flat on his face. For a moment, Virgil couldn’t understand why he had caught him instead of letting him feel more pain. The confusion lasted right up until the other side opened his mouth.

“In my arms at last, little songbird,” Roman murmured, a wicked smirk on his face. It was obvious that he was enjoying this a little too much, that he was getting satisfaction from Virgil being unable to even walk properly.

With a soft, barely there snarl, Virgil pushed himself back upright. With the fury that was burning in his veins, he found he didn’t care about the pain that gave him. He didn’t care about the possible angry way in which the Intrusive Thought might react to Virgil attacking him. All he cared about was getting out of the embrace, no matter the consequences.

In a way, it was even worse when Roman threw back his head and gave a joyous laugh. Really, Virgil would have taken more pain that moment over the crushing reality that Roman didn’t even see him as a threat. To make matters even worse, the regal looking side then turned, showing his back without a trace of fear and left, assuming - rightly - that Virgil would have no other option but to trail after him.

Limping slowly, Virgil followed him out of the room.

Any ideas he might have entertained about trying to escape while Roman had his back to him were dashed by the sight of Terrance waiting for them both, the figment silently slipping in behind them. No doubt keeping a close eye on Virgil and why did he have to keep the ones that looked like Thomas’ friends around? There were so many faces he could use, so many people Thomas knew more casually or had passed in the street. But no, he had to pick the ones that would hurt the most. This Thought seemed unable to let the simplest thing go by without seeing it as an opportunity to twist the knife even further.

Virgil refused to voice any of those thoughts out loud though. He wasn’t going to let Roman know that the presence of a fake friend was getting to him.

Instead, he focused on keeping a steady pace, on moving as easily as he could when his leg hurt as it did. Realistically, Virgil knew he wouldn’t have been able to try and make a break for it even without Terrance’s presence, not when his leg was like this. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, to have two reasons why he was going along with Roman’s wishes like a good little pet. Like the songbird Roman insisted on calling him.

With each passing moment, it felt more and more as though he was just giving in and accepting the reasons his head was conjuring up as excuses when really he was just weak. Weak and pathetic. What good was he when he couldn’t even handle one imaginary wound? When he had such a need for being the center of attention and pity, that he had managed to get not only injured but then have the wound infected for good measure? Why was he even fighting any of this? Surely it would just be better to give in? He was a coward, he didn’t like pain and if he just kept on doing what Roman wanted then it would be better for everyone.

They paused in front of the large doors which lead into the throne room. As they stood there, Roman visibly stood up taller, his whole posture shifting into that of a stern but gracious king. The role he was born to play. In that outfit and with that Thought in charge, it made a mockery of everything his Roman had stood for.

Virgil took this opportunity to close his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose and trying to will those thoughts away. That wasn’t him. He was not his worst thoughts and he wasn’t going to give in to the fear and worry and well - anxiety - that was currently assaulting him. He was more than just his title, his role. Roman was counting on him and Virgil was not going to let him down.

With those thoughts firmly in mind, Virgil opened his eyes once more. Instantly there was the gleam of gold, light catching off the doors as they moved with an overly dramatic creak. The faintest wisps of red smoke drifted past his vision as he blinked a couple of times to try and clear his gaze and focus once more. Those doors were fully open now, Roman vanishing inside, still walking with his head held high. As though he had any right to anything in this realm.

A hand on the small of his back reminded him ever so gently, that Virgil couldn’t just stand here as he pleased.

Biting down the noise of pain that wanted to escape at the renewed pressure upon his leg, he started to limp forward once more. Each step was more and more painful. A fire that was burning through his veins and leaving him shaking and utterly spent. Virgil was so focused on not crying out or simply dropping to the ground and lying there unable to move, that he didn’t notice the changes to the throne room until he was a good way inside.

It was a lot longer for one. At first, Virgil had just thought that was his leg playing tricks on him. That because everything hurt so much, it felt like an eternity. But no, the room really had stretched out, the pillars lining the way were now almost twice as many as before. The colours had changed as well, shifting into muter, darker shades. The painfully ironic thing - everything was pain right now - was that Virgil almost preferred this new look. It was much more his style.

But it wasn’t Roman’s style and this was more than just his castle, the throne room was the beating heart of his world. If any place in it needed to be Roman, it had to be this room. For the Intrusive Thought to have twisted even this place... it made his heart sink even lower and raised new doubts about if Virgil could even sa- no. He wasn’t thinking that.

One step in front of another. One more. And then another. And another. Each step dragging him slowly but surely towards the dais which was waiting at the other end of the room. There was another difference here Virgil belatedly noticed as he dragged his aching body up the few steps which elevated this area above the rest of the room.

There were two thrones where once there had only been one. Admittedly, one was smaller than the other, set lower so that the person on it would always remain aware of their reduced position. It had a chain attached to the front right leg, a heavy cuff on the other end. The was obviously for him. Some part of Virgil was amazed that he was actually going to be allowed his own chair. A throne no less. He had expected something along the lines of the chain to keep him in place, but he had thought that Roman would have used it to further embarrass and shame him. Perhaps by making him sit at his feet.

Whatever the reason for his apparent mercy, Virgil wasn’t going to question him about it. Not out loud at least. It was added to the list of questions that were growing ever stronger in his mind, pushing at his thoughts and confusing him further. Every time he thought he got a grasp on this Thought, it shifted. If all it wanted was to hurt and humiliate him, why allow him so much as a throne?

Roman stood in front of them and gave a mocking bow, lips twisting into a triumphant smirk. And why shouldn’t he be pleased with himself? He had managed to get Virgil in here, he was winning today - he had won every day so far, but his victories had never been complete. It wouldn’t be complete here. Virgil still didn’t know exactly what Roman really wanted from him, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to get it. With another little wave of his hand, he gestured towards the smaller of the thrones. So he wanted Virgil to sit down?

Okay. He could have that. But only because Virgil wanted to sit down too and take the weight off his aching leg.

The hand that was still in the small of his back gave him another little nudge, sending him stumbling forward. He caught the edge of the lower throne before he could actually fall, letting it steady him and no matter how badly Virgil really wanted to sit down, he couldn’t rush this. He couldn’t let them know how badly the walk had hurt him.

Somehow, he managed not to slump into the throne, sitting on it and waiting. As he expected, Terrance immediately bend down, hands reaching for the heavy looking chain.

Virgil refused to let so much as a flicker of emotion cross his face as the cuff was attached around his ankle, tying him to the throne like a leash. It could have been worse of course - if it had been an actual leash it would have been around his throat and he really didn’t think he could handle that. Not now and not ever. He felt uncomfortable enough at knowing he really was trapped. That it wasn’t even his own weakness that was stopping him from moving now, but that he was locked in, chained down.

A wild Anxiety, chained and contained at last.

To his muted surprise, Roman barely looked at him after that. He sat on his own, higher throne, head still held as high as before. With an impetuous wave of his hand, he beckoned the first claimant forward and got to work with the business for the day.

If any of the figments filing through the throne room wondered why Virgil was sitting there in chains - or indeed, why he was there at all - none of them mentioned it. He had never really understood the details of Roman’s worlds. He didn’t know how much power and freedom the people within it actually had. Were they all following programmed orders? Or was this just at a level that Roman didn’t have much of a hand in? Just automatically generated things beyond his notice.

But if Roman had planned all this, surely he would have chosen more interesting cases than neighbours squabbling over whose responsibility a fence that needed mending was or if they had been allowed to pick fruit from certain areas. In fact, none of the so called cases seemed particularly taxing. Most involved the same few petty little squabbles over and over again. There was the slightest variation in some of them. A different sort of food, eggs instead of fruit. A dam that needed fixing instead of a fence but it all boiled down to the same few things. All very mundane and normal.

So how come Virgil couldn’t help but feel as if something bad was coming?

It was ridiculous. Roman still wasn’t looking at him. He seemed fully absorbed in his role as the Prince, the font of all knowledge and justice. If it wasn’t for the outfit change and the fact he had chained Virgil to the throne, he could have convinced himself that it was still his friend. The Roman that had cared for the well being of his people, who would patiently sit for hour upon hour if that was what they needed.

How he could stand it, Virgil didn’t know. He was growing restless as it was, a prickling tingle of energy sweeping over him as he tried not to fidget. How many more of these people could there be? How many more times was he going to have to see some people shuffle through the doors and creep forward in line. When they finally reached the front they would grovel in front of Roman and wait for him to decide their petty fates?

The uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away.

Virgil’s gaze flickered around the room as though he could somehow pinpoint whatever it was that was making him feel like that. There had to be something, something he might not have realised that he saw but had buried its way into his subconscious like a tic. He could brush and pick at the spot all he liked but the teeth had burrowed their way deep and there was no way to get them out. Not until he could understand what it was that he had seen.

Was it one of the guards? There had been a slight stiffening to the ones standing by the doors leading in and out. A somewhat sharper snap to attention as though aware of eyes on them. But surely that, on its own, couldn’t explain that feeling of dread.

“I sentence you both to death...”

Roman’s voice, calm, collected, cut into his thoughts. Only then, did Virgil realise how far away his mind had taken him. He hadn’t even noticed the passage of the last few cases. Or how there were now two cowering women in front of Roman. The darkly clad regal side was staring down at them, his face expressionless.

To Virgil, that scared him almost more than the anger or the mocking had. Roman’s face was no built to be devoid of feelings. He always carried a little of himself in his look. Be he happy, sad, thoughtful, excited, or whatever. It was always on his face and Virgil could always read it. Yet there was nothing in this look. Not a hint of mercy or pity. It was as if all the lights were on but nobody was actually home.

Virgil missed his friend. But here, more than ever, he found himself mourning the absence of Roman. He would never have looked like that or said such things. He would never lift a perfectly manicured hand, fingers twisted into a thumbs down like some Roman Emperor of old.

“You stole from the King’s forest. You know the laws, nobody may enter without my express permission. This is not the first time it has happened recently either. I have no choice but to make an example of the two of you in the hope that you may prove a beneficial example to the rest. You will be taken from this place and burnt in the castle grounds before the day is done.”

They weren’t real. They weren’t real.

That didn’t make their cries of terror and pleas for mercy any easier to hear. Virgil could imagine their deaths. He could picture the way they would twist and scream in the flames, the stench that would drift around the castle. The way the ash would get caught up in the wind and mingle with everything else. He could imagine their pain - did the figments feel pain? They certainly felt fear and it was making Virgil feel scared in turn.

Not to mention, how would Roman feel about this? Virgil still held onto hope that he would find a way to break through to his friend and he was going to be upset about everything that had happened as it was. Sentencing people to death, the same people he had sworn in his coronation oath to project might be a step too far for him to handle.

“Roman, wait,” Virgil muttered. The dread was still pulsing in his stomach like some living, breathing thing. A beast made out of sickness and anxiety, bad thoughts made real. This was going to make things worse. This was a mistake.

But doing nothing was a mistake too. Roman tilted his head slightly towards Virgil, his eyes still firmly fixed on the crying women. He didn’t say a word, but he neither had he ordered his guards to take the women away.

“Don’t kill them... you... if you kill them, the people will fear you. Resent you. If you show mercy, they will love you. I’m sure... I’m sure they will obey you after this if you make it clear next time you will not be so forgiving?”

Virgil pitched his voice as low as he could as he spoke. Something inside him told him that Roman would not appreciate him speaking any louder. Perhaps it was the silence from Roman. Or the way he had bend his head towards Virgil to allow them to whisper. Maybe it was every period or fantasy drama he had seen which included this kind of scene. They always whispered in those cases.

Advisers to the king. Was that what he had become? Was he steeped in evil because of it?

“Very well...” Roman said slowly. His gaze had never once left the two women. “My consort has begged for mercy and I am inclined to grant it. Whipping and public penance. Begone before I change my mind.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Consort?! Where had that come from? What the hell was the Thought playing at now? The two women didn’t need to be told twice, each giving him a series of frantic little bows as they almost fell over themselves in their haste to get out of the room, the guards following close behind. Virgil paid them no heed. His mind was still stuck on that one word, turning it over and over in his mind like a pebble, worn smooth by the countless, crashing waves.

“Did you like that title?” Roman purred, finally looking in his direction. His eyes were gleaming with none too subtle malice, clearly enjoying himself. “I couldn’t help myself, not with the throne you were sat upon. It is technically a seat for a Queen after all.”

Virgil felt his fingers curl into fists, nails digging into the soft smooth skin of the palms of his hands, pressing so tight that he was sure there would be moons scattered across his skin for all to see. Countless little half moons, red and pulsing. Ugly, hot little reminders of how easily Roman could bring everything crashing down.

One little word and he was able to slip through Virgil’s defences, to find the weak spot and press hard. That was all it took when you were a master of the craft as Intrusive Thoughts clearly was. He had no idea what he meant by that term, if it was just to tease or if there was some other, deeper, darker meaning at play. It didn’t even matter in the long run what the Thought had actually meant by it.

His intent paled in comparison to Virgil’s reaction. Roman knew him, which meant that the Intrusive Thought knew him. He would know exactly how badly Virgil would take any sudden shift, any great change. To be forever moving, shifting, going from one phase to another might be how people lived. How even they all lived. And on the whole, he could stand up tall and proud when he thought of his past phases... but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the transition between the two.

The idea that such a term could be thrown out so casually, as though it didn’t change anything when it did everything was almost physically painful to him. The fact that he almost certainly meant nothing by it only hurt Virgil further because that brought with it the fear that he would use other terms again just for the fun of it.

The Thought didn’t need to do anything further. Virgil would do all the work for him, would torture himself with that word. Virgil hated that. He despised even more the simple fact that knowing about the trap his own mind would create for him didn’t help him work out how to avoid it. He could see the pit of spikes in the road up ahead and yet his pace didn’t slow or alter.

Nothing to do but go to his doom.

“I listened to you, little bird,” Roman cooed. He reached out, hand cupping Virgil’s cheek before sliding lower to grip lightly at his chin. Virgil had been so caught up in his own thoughts, the worries twisting and turning on themselves like angry snapping Cerberus heads, that he could do nothing but let him.

“You did,” Virgil agreed hoarsely. His palms were stinging now, little spots of sensation that created their own constellations against the sky of his skin. This was all too much. Too much thought and feeling. Too much worry and sensation. He needed to get out of here, he needed to go. For the first time Virgil actually felt like the animal that Roman seemed to be trying to make him. The panic that rose in him was bestial, instinctive and devoid of any finer common sense. It was ruled by the desire to get out of this situation and nothing else.

He turned away - or at least, he tried to.

In an instant, the fingers had tightened around him, digging in deep. Sharp and cruel, pinning him in place. It was so much worse than the marks he was leaving on his own skin because it spoke to his lack of control. It was yet another reminder - as though he needed another - that he had no agency of his own right now. The Thought could do whatever he wanted to Virgil’s body. He had proved that time and time again from the cage to the hunt to this moment. He could do whatever he wanted to his mind too and Virgil wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight this.

“Since you think you’re so good at making judgements, you can make the next one,” Roman told him, carrying on the conversation as though he wasn’t gripping Virgil hard enough to leave marks. He twisted his hand, forcing Virgil’s head to turn and look towards the main entrance.

Virgil’s heart didn’t sink so much as plummet.

Because there, being dragged through the two grand doors were October and Sleep, affectionately known as Toby and Remy respectively. Toby had a cut over his left eye, his hair dishevelled. Remy was in almost a worse state because he had lost his sunglasses. He looked so... vulnerable without his glasses and Virgil felt bile rise in his throat. It stung and burned as it went, leaving an acidic aftertaste in his mouth. The two lesser elements of Thomas were forced down to their knees in front of them.

Their hands were bound behind their backs, guards on either side but it didn’t stop either of them attempting to struggle and fight their way free. Remy tried to meet his gaze but Virgil couldn’t hold it, his eyes dropping down to stare at the floor. They were stinging as hard as his throat now, tears burning at the corners.

This was wrong and this had been a trap. He just never would have suspected... this. Whatever this was actually turning out to be and he felt very slow, very stupid. There was a malicious cunning at work here, some level of cruelty that not even Virgil could predict.

Sharp nails dropped away from his chin, Virgil shrinking back into the throne as they did. His hands relaxed as well, no doubt leaving the little moon marks as he had already suspected. It wouldn’t take long for those to fade though, there was no permanence to them, no lasting harm. Not like the damage this threatened to cause. He could barely breathe, staring down at the knees of Remy and Toby. Why were they here? What terrible thing was going to happen now?

“Someone came snooping,” Roman explained, voice light and dreamy. He sounded as though he was talking about a dream he wanted to share or something cute he had seen that day, not the two prisoners he had captured.

What if what he had been doing to Virgil was just a warm up for these two? What if he was going to hurt them? Virgil had started this whole nightmare dragged in front of Roman - how long ago that seemed now. It felt almost like a whole different lifetime, sitting and chatting with everyone, helping Thomas with his latest drama.

Was he ever going to be able to help Thomas with some of his worries ever again?

“They found out more than they were supposed to. I can’t leave any witnesses lying around. But I’m a generous man. They both represent smaller fragments of Thomas. He can survive with one of them temporarily suppressed.”

“What... what do you mean?” Virgil asked, stumbling a little over the words. Roman couldn’t mean... surely, he couldn’t mean what he thought he meant? Not even the worst Intrusive Thought could go as far as to kill one of them. They wouldn’t stay dead of course - death could only come to a side if they chose to remove themselves. Even then, the trait itself would remain, would recreate itself with no memories of the previous version.

The only other way they could die would be if Thomas died and Virgil had no intention of letting that happen any time soon. Or, if he and Logan had their way, ever. Logan had a lot of interesting talk about extending life spans. Freezing people. That sort of stuff.

It made Virgil want to giggle a little, something high pitched and desperate. Here he was, thinking about how they could be cryogenically frozen in order to live forever and Roman was still talking about murdering one of their friends. It didn’t matter if it wouldn’t be permanent. There wouldn’t be a physical mark but this would leave a scar and he couldn’t even start to imagine how any of them could recover from that.

“I mean I’m going to make one of them fade. By the time they reform and eventually recover their memories to know what happened to them, it will be too late for them to get in my way. Am I not merciful?”

Virgil didn’t answer. He couldn’t, his whole body and mind felt frozen, locked into place as the meaning of those words echoed around a suddenly silent room. Roman actually... he was actually going to do that? He really was going to... Virgil wanted to scream, to cry. He wanted to jump out of the throne, chain and wounds be damned. To go for the throat of this monster which mocked him while wearing a friend’s face and plotting the destruction of other friends.

His body refused to respond to those desires, to the heat that lapped against the icy shore of his will. How could he do anything when Roman had already showed how easily he could capture and hurt others? There was Remy and Toby to think of, still restrained with the sword of judgement hanging over them.

Roman stood, movements slow and deliberate. Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil could see the dark trouser legs as he moved closer. For the first time, Virgil felt a pang of fear at the thought of Roman close by. This was so much worse than the hunt, or when he had laid at his feet in agony, an arrow in his leg.

Even then, Virgil had been able to summon up some sort of defiance. He didn’t know how to do that now, he couldn’t find it in him to be brave as Roman’s hand settled on his shoulder, fingers squeezing. Not hard enough yet to cause any actual pain but the threat was there, as clear as if he had actually said the words.

“I said,” Roman repeated, voice sparkling with not so subtle dangers. “Am I not merciful my little bird?”

Virgil thought of Remy and Toby, watching this whole scene from their knees. He thought of his own pain, the hunt and how unimportant that was compared to everything else. He thought of the friends that were still safe outside this nightmare, who were blissfully oblivious to the horrors being waged here. Virgil would do anything to protect them, to try and save Remy and Toby now. What was his own pride compared to that?

“Very... merciful,” he forced out at last, fingernails slotting back into the impression left from only a few minutes previously. Had it really only been a minute or two since he had last sat with his fingers curled into tight, biting little fists? So much seemed to have happened since then, and yet in reality, it had been such a short span of time.

“Good pet,” Roman replied, hand now petting at his hair as if he was nothing more than that name. The bile rose in his throat again, more acidic than before, threatening to scorch his throat and leave him decaying. The regal side shifted a little, one hand waving towards the two below them.

“Choose,” he announced grandly. “Who should I spare?”

The world seemed to tilt on those words, everything shifting and becoming alarmingly grey around the edges. Choose? He was supposed to choose? How could be possibly do that? How dare the Thought inside of Roman try and put this on his shoulders.

It was a gross perversion of everything Virgil stood for. Which, he was painfully aware, was undoubtedly the reason why he had decided to do it. What better way to hurt Virgil than through those he loved. What better way to hurt those he loved than to try and make Virgil be the one to wield the sword. He wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to play these games any longer. He wasn’t going to sit here and meekly play at being Roman’s trophy, his consort, his bird or whatever demented title he came up with next.

“I can’t. I won’t,” Virgil spat out, the intensity of those words surprising even him. All the fire he had tried to suppress was bursting free once more, a raging roaring flame that refused to bow down to something as undeniably wrong as the Thought.

“You won’t?” The question was spoken mildly enough, but in the same dangerous tone as before. That time Virgil had crumpled under the pressure, had told himself that he had to agree for the sake of the others. This time, he knew he had to disagree for exactly the same reason.

“No,” Virgil replied and it didn’t matter what Roman did to him. He could stab him in the leg again and twist it for all it was worth, but he wasn’t going to sentence either of them to death. He wasn’t going to hurt his friends, he would gladly take all the pain on himself.

Almost unconsciously, Virgil felt himself brace for a blow that didn’t come. Roman considered his words thoughtfully for a few moments and then shrugged his shoulders in apparent defeat. The gesture only made him that much more nervous because he had never given in before.

“Very well. Both of them then. They will both die.”

“No!” Virgil cried, his heart leaping to his throat and who knew what would happen to Thomas if he lose them both.

Losing Sleep would... be terrible. Perhaps not too noticeable at first considered how little sleep he got anyway, but give it long enough and he would start to really suffer. Thomas would hurt without Remy there. Losing October would be a problem for the videos but he was so much more than just a month. He represented all the joy Thomas had within that month. Virgil felt closer to October than any other monthly function. Toby was so much cooler than him of course, but they both loved Halloween.

Thomas needed them both and Virgil had to do something. Of course, if he did nothing, if they both died - were suppressed - then surely someone would notice? Patton or Logan or even Thomas? With both of them out of the way, Thomas’ behaviour would change. They would start to question, might follow the trail all the way back to this castle. They might be able to stop Roman, save them both and then -

It was a pleasant dream. A hope of a much better future, one that didn’t involve bars and blood. Virgil couldn’t do that however. As much as he wanted to get out of this hellish landscape, he couldn’t condemn them both to death. He couldn’t run the risk of Thomas being seriously - and who knew, perhaps even permanently - damaged by such a loss.

Roman arched a brow, his expression condescending.

“No? I gave you a simple choice my pet. I offered you the chance to spare one of them. One will die and one will live. Or both will die. If you refuse to pick, then I will. Shall we watch the double execution from our thrones? I could have them killed right here and now.”

“No!” Virgil repeated again. He gasped for breath, feeling himself teeter on the edge of a cliff unlike any he had ever known before. The rocks which were spread out below him were far more treacherous and deadly than anything else. This was a wound he was cutting into his own flesh. Plucking out his heart and shredding it between his own fingers.

Mouth opened and closed a few times, Virgil struggling for breath, for words. Eventually thought, he was able to force some out.

“I... I’ll pick.”

“Good boy. Very well. Who gets to survive for another day?” Roman leaned forward a little, an intent, excited look in his eyes as he waited for the answer. Although Virgil was deliberately not looking at them, he was sure the two on their knees were leaning forward a little too, both helpless and waiting to see where the blow would fall.

“Sleep,” Virgil whispered, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t give into temptation and look towards them both. Some small, dark part of himself wanted to, wanted to hurt himself by seeing the reaction, to let Toby glare. He wanted one of them to hurt him because then it might be easier to bear this hurt in turn.

Virgil was a coward though. The larger part of him couldn’t bare see the betrayal in Toby’s eyes. He felt physically sick at the words he had uttered but what else could he do? Sleep was a physical representation of a much needed bodily function. Thomas needed to sleep and while he could survive without it for a day or so, it couldn’t be much longer than that. Virgil couldn’t risk Thomas like that. He couldn’t take away sleep.

“As you wish. Take October outside. Do it in the Courtyard” Roman murmured, voice low and almost comforting. In the otherwise dead silence of the throne room it felt deafening, as though he was screaming the orders so that everyone would know what Virgil had done. How he had, to all intents and purposes, killed a friend.

There was the sound of guards moving around, the struggle of a body being dragged away and still Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look up. It was taking everything he was not to cry out in rage and guilt, to not make it worse.

“Take Sleep to the dungeon,” Roman ordered. Virgil’s head snapped up at that, eyes widening in horror. He had sacrificed Toby for Remy, had given up his own soul to protect him and now Roman was going back on his word? He had never made Roman promise and why hadn’t he gotten some oath out of him before galloping ahead with his choice? It was no excuse to allow himself to be so driven by fear and not rational thought. Logan would have been so disappointed in him. Then again, it wouldn’t have been as painful as the self hatred that was flowing through him now.

“You said you would let him go!”

“I said no such thing my little songbird,” Roman retorted, one hand lifting to rest lightly against his heart, as though wounded by the tone of voice Virgil was using. “I said I would make one of them fade. Nothing about what I would do to the other.”

tag list;

@stanley-jigsaw @applecannibal @cookiethedevil @i-will-physically-fight-you @jemthebookworm @4amanxiety @plaid-purple-patches @hikarisakurariver

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #angst #wip #dark #angst with happy ending one day #please be aware of warnings #see me in a crown #long post #aca writes

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tangyyyy · 6 years ago

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Sweet ELU!dads one shot

Heyyy ! Look people, I wrote a thing ! :D

Hope some of you will like it...

Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant

2,588 words cute story

"Hi Baby Girl..." He whispered, a sweet smile on his lips.

Sweet & Soft Lucas & Eliott as happy tired dads.

Naptime

Eliott was walking fast through the streets of Paris under the warm sun of July. He had forgotten to take his treatment this morning, he realised it around 2pm, in the middle of a working meeting. Without a second thought, he had jumped into the underground to reach his apartment and take his medicine. This concern was new to the young man. For years, he didn't really care, taking his pills during depressive crisis and stopping as soon as he felt better. He knew very well the risks that such a behavior might imply but it was stronger than him, he couldn't help himself. Lucas' love hadn't changed anything much. His man was beyond perfect, reminding him to take his treatment regularly but was never too insistent and didn't treat him like a child, but of course, it wasn't enough. If Eliott couldn't take this damn treatment everyday, it was because he didn't really want to. But that was before. Now there was Éléonore. Just at the thought of this beautiful name, a small smile appeared on Eliott's lips who walked down the rue Myrha.

Lucas and him had been together for over ten years. Living things minute by minute, step by step, they had moved in together when Lucas entered college. Eager to commit to each other, they married surrounded by their families and their closest friends, on winter of 2026. Getting married on February had been Eliott's idea, the latter dreaming of a romantic day under the snow. It hadn't snowed on the day of their wedding, but they still spent a wonderful day. Then they bought an apartment together, a former leather workshop located in la Goutte d'Or neighborhood. The poor condition of the building explaining its reasonable price, the two young men had spent nearly two years to remodel the place on their image to make their own nest. Life was going on, the couple working a lot, Lucas as a psychomotor therapist at the Hôpital de la Pitié Salpétrière and Eliott as a cartoonist in a small independent company. They often met with their friends, went to a lot of parties, saw plenty of exhibitions, loved good films and traveled to France or abroad as soon as they could. And then, when Eliott turned thirty one, the two young men started to dream to have a child. The need to create a true loving family, the dream of concretising their love around a little human being that they would deeply loved... They had shared this idea with one of their friends, Romane, an aromantic artist who was craving to start a family. After long months of deep thoughts, doubts and dreams, the decision had been made, a child would born of the love of Eliott and Lucas and the great affection they both felt for Romane. The latter would remain the child's mom and the two men would be his/her two dads. Éléonore Lallemant was born in the night of December 17 2031. Lovely little girl with big blue eyes of 2,855 kilos. Her birth had totally changed Eliott's life. He would never have thought that he could feel a love so powerful and unconditional as the one who had struck him at his daughter's first sight. He loved Lucas, of course, more than ever, but that love, that feeling he felt towards Éléonore... It was beyond words. From then on, he made a point of taking his treatment every damn day. If Eliott could tolerate (although shameful) the idea of making Lucas living Hell during his crises, it was out of the question that the little girl had to live all that.

Cheeks flushed and skin moist with heat, Eliott pushed the heavy wooden door of their apartment. Setting his keys hastily in a small box on the entrance furniture, he crossed the narrow corridor fully tiled of cement patterned floor and came in their living room. The place seemed deserted. "Lucas?” Called Eliott. Nobody answered him. Perhaps he had gone out for a walk with Éléonore? With this overwhelming heat it didn't seem like a very good idea, but why not? Eliott walked to the kitchen, grabbed his medicine in a small wicker basket they used to put some of their drugs and swallowed it with great sip of fresh water. He tried to call Lucas on his cell phone but he heard a ringtone on the living room table. He was out without his phone? It really wasn't in his habits... Now fully intrigued, Eliott went around the rooms of the house. Nobody in their room or in Éléonore's. God, the air was hot... Eliott ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. He loved this apartment, but he had to admit that it was difficult to keep some fresh air on the inside on summer time. One of the advantages of living in a big city... Their home office was deserted and the bathroom as well. However, walking near the large half closed patio door, Eliott recognised a sound that was very familiar to him. Putting a foot in the small paved courtyard, Eliott remained motionless for a moment. Lucas slept on his back, on an old mattress that was usually stored in their shed, his open mouth letting out sweet snores. On his bare belly rested the upper body of the little girl, she also deeply asleep. Under the shade of a wooden pergola covered with wisteria, their hair danced with the breeze produced by two fans settled at Lucas' feet. Visibly suffering from the summer heat, Lucas had wore flannel shorts only, while Éléonore was wearing her diaper for one and only piece of cloths. Eliott bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a sigh of pleasure. How beautiful they were, both of them asleep on each other. The young man looked at his watch. He was supposed to come back at work once his treatment was taken but after all, after these long months of hard work, no one would blame him for hanging around a bit... With catlike steps, he walked to the mattress, crouched and lay on his side, close to Lucas. Leaning on one elbow, he watched his man and his daughter for a long time. Eleven months old Éléonore wasn't a long sleeper. Still waking up once at a night and only rarely sleeping during the day, her tight sleep schedule had reduced the two men to a state of permanent tiredness. Exhausted, but happy, if they'd have choice they wouldn't have change anything. Or maybe adding two or three hours of sleep on each night? Nothing more. Staring at the dark rings under Lucas' eyes, Eliott lightly stroked them with his fingers. In his sleep, Lucas wrinkled his nose, moved a few inches and put a protective hand on Éléonore's back. Eliott switched his focus back to the little girl. Her round cheek resting against the firm and tanned Lucas' belly, she was sleeping with her mouth open, a small trickle of drool dripping from her pink lips. Knees resting on the mattress, buttocks in the air. Eliott was still amused by the funny positions his daughter adopted at naptime.

He stretched out his arm and stroked her hair. At his touch, the little girl shook her head. Eliott immediately withdrew his hand, not wanting to interrupt her light sleep. Unfortunately, this concern seemed a bit late when Éléonore opened her big blue eyes. Her face clouded with sleep, the baby hardly lifted her head and looked at Eliott. "Hi Baby Girl..." He whispered, a sweet smile on his lips. Frowning, the little girl remained motionless for a moment, her little mouth still open. She huffed, obviously struggling to wake up completely. "Did you sleep well?” Eliott smiled as he ran his hand through her thin hair, wet with warmth. "Papa.” Said Éléonore in a shrill voice. Eliott quickly put a finger to his own lips. "Shhh! Papa's sleeping, don't wake him up.” He said to her with big round eyes. Amused from her father's face, the little girl laughed out loud, revealing her baby teeth. Without wasting any more time and now a little more awake, Éléonore took support on her legs and rested her little fists on Lucas' belly. "No, no, Nour!” Eliott whispered, shaking his head and straightening up on his lap. Nour was the the little girl's nickname used by Lucas and him. One day, Sofiane told them that this nickname, which was also an arabic name, meant "light". Finding this meaning perfectly appropriate to their love story and their new family, the two men had definitely adopted it, rarely using her real name. The little girl, determined to reach Eliott's arms by the shortest way, threw herself on all fours on Lucas' stomach, snatching from the latter a plaintive grunt. If she didn't weigh very heavy, her 7 kg were enough to pull her father from sleep. Opening his arms, Eliott welcomed Éléonore against his chest, buried his nose against her skin and breathed her sweet baby smell. "Little devil..." He chuckled.

Lucas, meanwhile, stretched and blew. Opening an eye, he closed it immediately, disturbed by the sunny afternoon's light. He rubbed his eyes and groaned again. Eliott smiled. Éléonore and he made the exact same funny faces when they struggled to wake up. "What are you doing here?” Lucas stammered hoarsely. Eliott didn't have time to answer that Lucas, suddenly, rose in a sitting position, visibly panicked. "Shit! You're already home?! We slept that much?!” He exclaimed. Eliott chuckled and kissed Eleanor's head, still snuggled against him before putting a reassuring hand on Lucas's forearm. "No, no, it's barely 3pm. Sorry, I think I interrupted your nap..." Lucas sighed and dropped heavily on the old mattress. "For the trouble taken, you'll be the one who'll get up tonight and tomorrow night..." Eliott giggled again. "Ok, that's a deal." Lucas closed his eyes and stretched while letting go of a deep yawn. "You're not supposed to be at work? - I dropped by very quickly to take my med, I had forgotten this morning." The little girl was now playing with the leather and silver necklace Elliot was wearing around his neck, a gift from Lucas for his last birthday. ""Dropped by very quickly"...” Lucas emphasised. “And so? You're not supposed to go back?” He asked, his eyes still closed, comfortably lying on his back, enjoying the cool air produced by the discreet fans. Eliott sighed. "They don't need me that much... Understand me! You were so beautiful both asleep... -Right... So you thought, "Hey, I'll wake them up!” Lucas smirked. Eliott laughed softly, leaned over and put a small kiss on the moist temple of his man. "I'm sorry..." Feeling sleepy and deeply eager to enjoy the laziness of this summer afternoon, Eliott lay down alongside Lucas, sitting Éléonore on his own belly. "Nap time baby girl..." Eliott whispered, hoping that their daughter would fall back asleep. Unfortunately, Éléonore, now fully awake and ready to live a thousand adventures, had other ideas in mind. Gripping and pulling Eliott's tee-shirt, she put the fabric into her mouth. "Please, Nour... I know you're tired, come sleep a little longer..." Lamented Eliott.

The little girl began to hop and bounce on her father's belly. Finding it amusing, she moved and threw herself on Lucas' belly, hitting his pelvis' bone. "Auch... Nour, it hurts..." Lucas growled, turning himself to lie on his stomach. Way too happy and cheerful, Éléonore sat on the back of the latter and stirred her little buttocks, hitting his skin with her fists. "Hue... Hue!*” She exclaimed, asking to play at her favourite game which was walking around the house on her dads' backs. Lucas huffed. "For fuck sake... This girl is never tired..." Mused Lucas towards Eliott. The latter smiled, straightened up, took the little girl in his arms and put her between the two of them. "Come on, stop. Now, you sleep." Feeling no desire to sleep and frustrated at not being able to act as she wanted, Éléonore winced and began to whine. In order to stop her tears, Eliott put a small kiss on her cheek and Lucas kissed her on the head. These mere gestures had the expected effect, the little girl calmed down. But right after the two men laid down on the mattress, she started to cry again. Then, Eliott and Lucas kissed her on each side of her pretty face. This small game continued for long minutes. They kissed her, she laughed loudly, they went away, she groaned again. Then, after a few minutes, tired of this new game, Éléonore sat up, climbed on Eliott's body and walked on all fours towards the inside of the house. "Nour... come back..." Lucas called her, his voice still clouded with sleep. "Let her go..." Suggested Eliott. "Yeah, good idea... A 11 months old baby all alone in a house full of sharp angles and dangerous objects, I don't see where's the problem!” Lucas complained, yet not moving. Eliott giggled, getting up. "Yeah, you're right... Anyway, I have to go back to work... I bring her back to you then I leave.” He said, walking towards the patio door. Lucas, his head still resting on the mattress, opened an eye and watched his man vanishing in the inside of the house. Two minutes later, he reappeared in the small courtyard, Éléonore in his arms. The little girl held in her hand a little picture book offered by Lucas' mother during her last visit. Eliott put her down next to Lucas and crouched down. "I must leave now..."

Lucas got up with difficulty and sat cross-legged, ready to welcome Éléonore between his legs to read the book with her.

"Nour, come here..." He turned to Eliott. "Are you coming home late tonight?

-No, I'll try to hurry... Why? Do you have anything in mind?

-No, no, nothing special but... I'll may be a little more awake...“ Eliott raised amused eyebrows. "Hm... I must admit that I love this idea..." He purred, leaning close to Lucas's face. "You're very very very very very beautiful... Have you already been told? "Two or three times, yeah..." Grinned Lucas, tilting his head before staring at his man's lips with dark eyes. Eliott put his lips on his. The kiss was soft and tender like the the small courtyard's athmosphere. Then, as seconds went by, the two men deepened the kiss, playing with their tongues and their hot breath on their swollen lips. But after a while, Eliott and Lucas felt two small hands touching their cheeks. "Papa!” Shouted Éléonore, craving for some attention from her two dads. Lucas huffed, broke their kiss and turned to their daughter. "Ok, ok, come on, let's read that book..." Eliott chuckled and kissed the little girl's forehead. "Have fun baby Nour.” He kissed Lucas again. "See you tonight... Daddy.” He whispered sarcastically, emphasising the last word. "Oh fuck, you know I hate that! Get the hell out of here!” Lucas cried, unable to stop himself from laughing. Laughing out loud, Eliott rushed to the exit. Before crossing the patio door, he threw a last tender look at his man and his daughter, enjoying the sweet thought to have this two amazing people in his life...

* French kids say that (« Hue ! Hue ! ») when they play horse on people's back... Don't know if it's very understandable for foreign people but I felt like put it in this fic...

Note : Yeah, yeah, it’s totally fictionnal... Nobody owns a house like this one in Paris, except if you're a Saudi princess...

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nerdylittoyvoid · 6 years ago

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Sleepsong - Bastille (Connor x Reader)

Hi! This is a little fic for @tea-with-loki‘s 2k celebration! Congratulations to them!

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of death and depression

Synopsis: Post-revolution, now deviant Connor becomes overwhelmed with experiencing emotions; something that was once like a foreign language to him.

Being deviant in post-revolution Detroit certainly had its advantages. Nobody had to worry about Cyberlife from coming after them. Plus, humans and androids could live together in harmony; rejoicing together in modern technology.

However, one downside was the whole emotions thing. Connor’s understanding and tolerance for it was lacking. He never knew that emotions had physical manifestations besides facial expressions and crying. He would become concerned for his health when he started experiencing headaches when faced with pressing or stressful situations, by his heart seemingly aching when feeling sad or down on himself, by the sensation of butterflies in his stomach when he looked at you, and so on. He’d frequently report mechanical malfunctions to Jericho (the organization that now repaired androids), concerned that he was falling apart. When he’d been told that what he was experiencing was of emotional origin, he began to educate himself on physiological reactions.

He now understood where and how his emotions were affecting him. The main problem now was talking about them.

Connor is one of the best investigative androids known to the DPD. Maybe even to man. What seemed pathetic to was that one of the best pieces of forensic technology wasn’t able to articulate how he felt.

He still at the DPD, right in homicide. The desk that used to be Hank’s, now empty. He felt a certain heaviness, thinking about the man he considered his father to be gone. But, he wasn’t ever able to somehow rid himself of this heaviness. Instead, it festered. It caused him long nights or crying instead of rest. He suffered in silence due to his inability to simply talk to someone else.

Because of this, he felt inferior. He felt as if he wasn’t smart enough, that he was cold because of his fear to express his emotions. He wanted to make friends, to form a family of some sort. He wanted to get close to others, but this newfound freedom came with what, some would say, a high cost. The cost of rejection, of getting hurt by another, misplaced trust.

He remembered walking through the park while still working on those deviant cases. While Hank was still here. Strolling through the paved path passing the playground, he overheard a mother speaking to her son, who was most likely not older than 6.

“You can go play by yourself, just don’t talk to strangers.” The woman had warned.

Connor thought that was a brilliant way of living. Don’t talk to strangers other then when strictly needing to, would protect himself from getting hurt. From being vulnerable.

This avoidant type of living would come with a different cost altogether. Loss, distrust, disassociation and last but certainly not least, loneliness.

He pushed you away. The way you made him feel scared him. Your presence made him feel calm. He forgot about the pain that weighed him down on a daily basis. Your joyfulness and open-minded personality made him feel safe. The odd thing about that was, it scared him away. Fearful of saying something he’d later regret, he stopped talking to her altogether.

You caused his heartrate to accelerate, butterflies raging in his stomach when you looked him in the eye. He knew this was what love felt like. He had read about it because he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a pressing mechanical issue.

He loved you. After all, you had been there for him ever since he had come to the DPD, befriending him and showing him the ropes. You had shown him what true humanity was.

But now, due to avoiding you at all costs, you two slowly began drifting apart. You began becoming strangers again; and Connor didn’t think it was safe to talk to strangers. The physiological and emotional reactions you gave him made him feel vulnerable, so he found it best to stay away. He didn’t want to open up. So, he went to bed alone at night.

Granted he didn’t sleep, he couldn’t. He’d just close his eyes and try to relax, enjoying the softness of the bed and the comfort that it gave him.

He didn’t want to be alone anymore, the hollowness seemingly eating him up. The bright colours of the real world were becoming whitewashed by his apathetic, anxious and depressed state. It was almost as if his reality was being swallowed by the real one.

Suddenly the back of his mind took over. He just knew if he was alone for another hour, he didn’t know what he’d do; and that scared him.

With shaking hands dialed the one person he could trust the most, you.

This was his last resort.

Within 10 minutes you were at Connor’s house, practically cradling him as he let everything out.

You had experienced depression and issues with emotions and were no stranger to the struggles it brought. Listening patiently and open-mindedly, you tried to create the safe space that Connor needed so desperately. Although you were upset that Connor has experienced this alone, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. He had come back to you.

Little did you know, that in the end he’d always come back to you.

That night started a long road of knowledge and recovery for Connor, and you were there for him through all of it.

#wolfys2k #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor #detroit become human #detroit connor #connor rk800 #dbh hank

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whumpingwillow · 8 years ago

Text

Just a casual Spider-Man sickfic because I love love love Peter Parker. This is the first I’ve ever written, but I hope it turned out okay. Please be kind :) It’s from Tony’s POV because I just thought that would be interesting

Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming / MCU

Word count: 2209

Warnings: a bit of vomiting, but no vivid descriptions.

________________________________________________________________

From the minute Peter had walked in with Happy that afternoon, the kid had been unusually subdued. For any other person, unusually subdued might entail that person being a little more quiet and reserved than he or she otherwise would be. For Peter, it was so much more than that. Subdued was the very antithesis of his entire being.

Peter Parker was an unbelievably chatty person. He had so much to say that Tony had almost forgotten what he looked like with his mouth shut, and Happy’s voicemail hadn’t been empty since he gave the kid his number. Peter would talk to himself if there was nobody else around to listen, and he had even been known to strike up a conversation with his opponent mid-battle. Tony had seen the boy angry, excited, disappointed, close to tears… but quiet? Never.

Tony looked up from the web cartridge he was fiddling with to steal another glance at Peter. The kid was sitting across from him with his chin propped up on his fist, staring vacantly at the web fluid notes scattered on the table. Tony had invited him to the tower to discuss making some minor changes to the formula, but there had been very little discussion so far. Just some mumbled affirmations and half-hearted smiles. Now his eyes were slipping closed like he might fall asleep.

“Am I boring you or what?” Tony asked loudly. Peter was so startled his chair went rolling backwards and his elbow slipped out from under him, sending papers flying everywhere. His chin hit the edge of the table with a resounding smack.

“Mr. Stark! I’m sorry, I just zoned out for a second. I’ll pick these up.” Peter rubbed his chin for a second and then ducked under the table, scrambling around on the floor to rake up all the loose sheets.

“That literally looked like something out of a cartoon,” Tony commented, raising his eyes to the ceiling and sighing in a long suffering fashion before setting down the web cartridge and ducking under the table as well. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Peter reflexively sat up to answer, thinking Tony was still standing up on the other side of the table, and bashed his head into its underside. Tony winced.

“I-I’m okay!” Peter called out immediately, but Tony didn’t miss the way his voice cracked.

“Would you just sit back and take it easy before you actually knock yourself out?” Tony responded in exasperation. He plucked the notes Peter had already gathered out of his hands and quickly swept up the others with his arm. Peter miraculously didn’t protest. He just scooted backwards out from under the table and sat cross-legged on the floor, looking a little bit dazed.

Tony shuffled the papers into a neat stack on the tabletop and then made his away around back to Peter. He stuck his hand out, and Peter looked at it for a second before grabbing it and letting himself be pulled up off the floor. He swayed a little once he was upright. Tony noted his glassy eyes and pale complexion.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark, sorry about th—”

“Stop apologizing,” Tony interrupted, and then carried on talking through Peter’s obvious internal struggle over whether he should apologize for apologizing. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on? Because now you look a little like you might throw up,” he paused, gesturing vaguely at all the elaborate gadgetry surrounding them in the workshop, “on my multimillion-dollar equipment,” he finished.

Peter just shrugged. Teenagers. Tony tried to reign in his frustration.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Tony asked, holding up three.

“Three. I don’t have a concussion,” Peter insisted, shifting his eyes to the ground, clearly uncomfortable under Tony’s intense scrutiny. Tony was not inclined to take his word for it. Sure, he probably didn’t have a concussion from banging his head on the table, but Tony didn’t know what kind of wild antics the kid might have been getting up to earlier in the day or week. Something was clearly wrong with him.

Tony reached out and lifted the kid’s chin up, trying to get a good luck at his eyes to make sure his pupils weren’t unequal sizes or anything else just as alarming. Immediately he felt an uncomfortable warmth radiating from Peter’s skin that suggested something else was wrong entirely. Tony changed direction, smoothing a palm against Peter’s forehead, and his suspicions were confirmed.

“How long have you been running a fever?” Tony asked. Peter stepped away from him and sat back down in the rolling chair.

“Fever?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Don’t sound so shocked. You must have been feeling pretty rough for a while now. I’d chew you out for not telling me, but I can’t do it when you’re standing there shivering like a homeless Chihuahua.”

Peter looked a little indignant at the comparison but didn’t seem to have the energy to object.

“Alright, tell me how you’re feeling, and be honest. I don’t have the patience for any of that ‘I’m fine’ garbage. I spent a year actively dying and told no one, so I’m no stranger to the brave face routine.”

“You spent a year actively dying?” Peter completely ignored the question.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” Tony picked Peter’s backpack up off the floor. He stuck the papers and the web cartridge inside it, zipped it back up, and slung it over his shoulder like a schoolboy. “Happy’s going to take you home, but I’ve already sent him out to run an errand. I don’t know when he’ll be back. In the meantime, I’m taking you down to medical.”

“This is unnecessary,” Peter began, but one piercing glare from Tony ended that train of thought.

“Level with me, Parker. Is it your stomach, your throat, your head? Is it some infected festering wound you’re hiding from me?”

Peter put a hand across his abdomen, swallowing thickly, and then sighed in resignation. “Stomach.”

Yikes. “You need a trash can?” Tony strode across the room and grabbed the smallest one without waiting for an answer. Better safe than sorry. He thrust it at the boy, who wrapped his arms around it without any further objections and stood up slowly.

Tony sighed inwardly, taking in the the pallor to Peter’s skin, the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the exhausted slump of his shoulders. He should’ve put the pieces together sooner. Had the kid looked this terrible when he got here? With a flat palm resting between Peter’s shoulder blades, he steered him towards the door.

********************

They almost made it to medical without any incidents.

Peter had looked uncomfortable during the entire snail-paced walk, but Tony couldn’t tell if it was because he felt sick or because he felt self-conscious—probably both. Tony had rambled incessantly to fill the silence, and Peter had occasionally given a feeble laugh or smile to reassure Tony that he was, in fact, still alive.

They had just stepped off the elevator into the hallway where medical was located when Peter abruptly stopped, his knuckles going white as his hands tightened around the small garbage can he’d been toting around.

“Um, M-Mr. Stark, can we stop for a second?” Peter asked shakily, even though Tony had already halted and turned around.

“We’re almost there kid. See that room? Can you make it?” Tony spoke calmly despite all the alarms blaring in his head telling him to panic. Peter opened his mouth to reply but gagged unproductively instead.

Tony was entirely out of his element. Sure, he had held Pepper’s hair back on an occasion or two, but this was different. Peter was just a kid. Tony’s own stomach turned at the thought of Peter out web-slinging in this state or even under normal circumstances. Tony nearly had heart palpitations every time the boy got knocked over in battle and took a second too long to get back up.

The experience of worrying about someone certainly wasn’t foreign to Tony, but worrying about a kid? Feeling responsible for someone as youthful and reckless and unwaveringly kind as Peter, whose heart was as big as his mouth, whose self preservation instincts were constantly being drowned out in the interest of heroism? It was incredibly overwhelming; however, speculating about the blind terror of having a teenager right in the center of violent combat actually brought the current situation into perspective. This wasn’t life threatening. This was the stomach flu. Tony could handle the stomach flu.

As if Peter wanted to test Tony’s resolve, he gagged again, and this time it was followed by a sickening splatter in the metallic can. Tony put a hand on Peter’s back, vaguely alarmed at the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, and waited patiently for him to finish.

Peter’s hands were shaking. Tony really didn’t want him to drop the trash can now.

“Are you finished?”

“Uh, I think.” Peter replied shakily, which wasn’t particularly reassuring.

“Here, I’ll take that.” Tony pried Peter’s clammy hands off the rim of the can and took it from him. Then he guided Peter to the room on the right, holding open the heavy door with one hand and holding the bin as far away from himself as possible with the other. Peter shivered as the slightly cooler air hit him.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Adjust the thermostat a few degrees, would you?”

“Of course, Sir,” the A.I. responded.

Letting the door swing shut behind him, Tony slipped into the adjacent bathroom to deal with the mess in the trash can. Peter followed, insisting that he could clean it up.

“I can do it, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry, this is my fau—” Peter swallowed hard, getting a glimpse of the bin’s contents as Tony washed them down the sink.

“Lots of things are your fault. This isn’t,” Tony answered shortly, finishing his task and washing his hands thoroughly. “You must feel terrible already. Stop adding unnecessary guilt to the picture.”

Peter backed out of the doorway, allowing Tony to come back through to the main room. Tony, all business, immediately started hunting through different drawers in search of some kind of medication. What was it you weren’t supposed to give to a kid? Aspirin maybe?

“Mr. Stark...?” Peter’s voice wavered a bit.

“Yeah?” he replied, not looking up from the task at hand.

“...are you mad at me?”

Tony sighed heavily and turned around. Peter was holding himself up against the bathroom doorframe, innocently, like he wasn’t trying to break Tony’s heart with his wobbly knees and his unwarranted apologies and stupid questions like the one he’d just asked.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” Tony said in a much gentler voice than usual. “But I’m gonna need you to stop thinking you’re a major inconvenience to me, because that’s not true.” He turned back to the cabinet, resuming his search, and then spoke again in his customary tone. “Now please, sit down before you pass out and crack your skull on my recently polished floor.”

The creak of the bedsprings told him Peter had fulfilled his request.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you give me a read on Peter’s temperature?”

“Mr. Parker’s current temperature is 102.8 degrees. I advise fluids to combat dehydration. Perhaps some acetaminophen to reduce fever,” the A.I. supplied helpfully.

Tony frowned, digging a bottle of Tylenol out of the drawer and rattling a couple of pills onto his flat palm. Then he pulled a paper cup out of the cabinet and filled it with water from the sink. “This may not even do anything for you and your spider-esque body chemistry, but humor me,” he instructed, placing the cup in one of Peter’s hands and the medication in the other.

Peter swallowed the pills one after the other, with a gulp of water in between. His shaking hands sloshed a little water down the front of his shirt and then onto the table by the bed when he tried to set it down.

Tony made no comment. Instead he crossed the room to the supply closet in search of a blanket. He pulled an old blue one out from under a stack of crisp white sheets and tossed it towards the bed.

Peter’s reflexes were still sharp enough to catch it without looking.

“Why don’t you lie down for a little while? I’m going to go call Happy and see whereabouts he’s at. I’m sure you want to go home, but I think it’s probably a good idea to let your stomach settle a little before putting you in a vehicle for such a lengthy ride.”

Peter nodded and crawled under the covers. Tony asked FRIDAY to dim the lights considerably and to notify him if Peter got sick again before making his way to the door. He was pulling his phone out of his pocket to call Happy when Peter faintly called out his name.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Tony looked over his shoulder at Peter’s lanky blanketed form and smiled slightly, unable to contain the surge of affection he felt for him.

“Feel better, kid.”

#willow writes #spider-man #peter parker #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman homecoming #spider-man homecoming #tony stark #sickfic #emeto

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winds--of--change · 6 years ago

Text

No.562

Sunday, 28th July, 2019. I got drowned.

...

Last Sunday I went swimming.

I was swimming. Then I was out of breath. The water level was too deep to stand. I panicked and forgot to float. I struggled under the water for an instance, like a flash of second I felt I was in the water suffering, a friend’s figure was not far away from me as if standing really close by.

The next thing I knew, my consciousness was back with hearing voices, a lot of voices in Japanese, like a chaos, noise. Somehow I had a feeling I was lying on the train and fainted suddenly and that’s why people surrounding called me waking me up on the train. I heard voices yet not yet waking up, hearing as if I was the third person looking at a girl lying on the floor. Then the voices were louder and crazier, drawing me in, and somehow I was back to my consciousness, opening my eyes and realizing I was in a room with people around. The first thing I asked was ‘What happened’. I felt like I blacked out for a long long time, long enough for my spirit to travel all the way to a train and construct a story of me fainting on the ground instead, before I travelled back to the present and being drawn back to the present by hearing those chaotic voices.

But later when my friend described the whole situation to me, it seemed that I was unconscious for a very short period of time, and surprisingly I screamed during that time, like in a great great pain, as my friend heard it and felt as if I was really really in great pain through my screaming. The guard recorded the time of incident, so Kim told me at 15:28 they recorded her running out towards the guard asking for ambulance, in about 9 minutes the ambulance came. I was not aware of anything since the moment I lost my consciousness. I just felt I was unconscious for really long until I finally woke up at that moment. And I was still completely in lost of details about the whole thing even after waking up. I remembered I vomited, I remembered they let me go through X-ray check or something (Kim later told me it was like 3D X-ray examination, after which they showed my lung was almost completely white, due to water inside my lung), then I remembered they moved me. But it was very vague. I still remembered I saw my cousin and Kim was still there the very last scene, that I said thank you to Kim and my cousin and my cousin said some consoling stuffs, later Kim said that time when Kim left the hospital it was already around 11pm something. I didn’t feel like so much time has passed like that since around 4pm when I was probably admitted to the hospital in the emergency room, then I spent the night in hospital feeling absolutely terrible in my chest, nauseous and vomiting time after time, I called the nurse to ask for medicine to stop the vomit in the middle of the night, but the nurse said something like it was probably not possible to have medicine today and I would have to wait. My left arm was heavy, because of multi-injection lines and a huge pack of cover. Sunday was probably the worst of all days I was hospitalized last week.

Yet probably the worst of worst, the greatest pain that I screamed out and which Kim felt so vividly through my screams, was, fortunately, optional in suffering. I did not suffer it, in a sense that, I was unconscious, so literally my body felt the sufferings fully, but somehow ‘I’ did not. It was like natural euthanasia made by my brain or something, it switched off at the hardest moment so that I don’t need to ‘feel’, when I don’t feel, I don’t suffer, my physical body has felt, not my... ‘feeling’, my spirit myself or whatever it is called.

But now that my mind and body are back together as one, now that my feelings no longer get numb thanks to instinctive euthanasia, I kept crying. I was okay, then I cried and I cried, I felt okay again, but talking or writing about it right now here I cried and cried again. I am completely emotionally unstable. It must be, indeed, a traumatic event. After all it was a near-death experience, and for one second, though brief, I really felt the torture of water, the suffocation, unable to breath then when breathing, breathing water in and absolutely suffocated and suffering. I felt death, and somehow unconsciousness i.e. fake death, felt such a relieve of such suffocation, of the great pain that was persisting and retaining.

I remember in Steve Job’s Commencement Speech addressed at Stanford University, he said nobody wants to die, even if someone wants to go to Heaven, no one wants to die to get into Heaven. What is to me is that, I don’t want to die, or even if I want, I wouldn’t EVER want to go through that suffer, that suffocation to get to Death. After Sunday, it was like, nothing I wished for more than a healthy state of body and mind and soul, no more the feeling of suffocation nor nauseous feelings nor pain. I don't want those things, it is worse than Death.

Suffering is worse than Death.

Now I am well physically, and so my mental and emotional stage finally caught up to the suffering of physical state. I just cried, emotional unstable, I just can't move on somehow. I could only cry. I don't even feel the suffocation for water any longer, of course, it’s already long physically gone, yet I kept crying, I kept feeling really really traumatized and unbalanced. And it was also because of the feeling of stress, that I don’t have time to rest, I only have 2 weeks left to clear everything for a flight home, due to my visa’s expiry date. But I truly feel like I am not ready mentally at all for a flight, nor a journey, or just anything regarding a movement, a decision-making, or just a change. Right now I just want to stay still and deal with my mental stage and try to heal. I just want to rest completely for healing, rid of emotional distress.

I can't just feel ready for anything at all right now.

And my left chest pain kicks start due to the overwhelming aftereffects, my left arm still feels heavy and painful due to all injections, more than 10 shots of injection are still visible in my left arm’s skin, the scars have not yet been gone.

I am not ready for any movement nor change nor anything at all, physically and mentally and emotionally.

It stresses me out. I think, then I cry, then I cry again. I texted my friends because of the overwhelming emotion. Again, she kindly said, ‘just take one step at a time, take deep breath, one step at a time’. I am trying. I tried to mediate. I hope I will be fine.

Suffering is worse than Death. No one wants to die. Nobody wants to suffer either.

Nobody wants to suffer in order to die. We don’t want to go through suffering just to get to Death. No no no. Nobody.

Nobody.

#562nd

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deadspaceaus · 8 years ago

Text

Interview with Chris

Through the bleak moments and the madness that goes in between or viceversa, how deep you get involved within yourself to make Deadspace an entity upon others?

Deadspace for me has always been deeply personal. An emotional, almost spiritual beast in which I have allowed myself to absolutely lose control as a human being. For me it is the child within. Angry, tortured, disobedient but pure. Then the other members came into the picture. I think it’s ridiculous to say that they draw the exact same purpose from the energy that is Deadspace. In saying that, I don’t believe anyone will every understand it like I do because the inner workings reflect differently to people closely involved. But I can certainly say I 100% feel like the energy burns infinitely harder when we’re together as a unit. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why… but it is a feeling I live for every day. This is what we offer to our fans and loved one. This is a haven where you will not be judged or cast away for your lunacy. We consider it so that every Deadspace show is a surreal experience for all involved.

Can you describe the first time you fell in love with music?

Well that depends on what aspect of music we’re talking about. But here is a theory I have previously held value to, encompassing the idea of growth. From a very young age I was always fascinated with how a good song would reflect on an entire room of people and fuel an ambience. This was the first step for me, falling in love with how music could make you feel. Then as a more dissociative being, I became obsessed with the ability to disappear into music and to feel nothing. It was like a drug. I could put on a record and just disappear for as long as I needed. This is most likely where my love for post rock and severely heroin influenced stuff NIN stemmed from.Then I hit my teens and I got angry. I wanted to see people willing to destroy themselves for art. For some obscure reason I really put emphasis on this (and still do). I wanted to see Manson kick in speakers, I wanted to see Reznor fuck his keyboard and smash shit with hammers and the idea of people like Kvarforth and Carlsson covering stages in blood was neurotically exciting.You take these 3 moods and then you apply them to a day of Melbourne weather. All 3 feelings, about 5 times a day. It’s a mess, music has become the only thing that drives me insane and keeps me together at the same time.

In your formative years as a musician can you name a record or records that shaped your musical direction and why?

First of all, I’d encourage the idea of perhaps the ‘formative’ years still being in progress. Some albums that have seriously influences me as an artist are: Marilyn Manson - Mechanical Animals: This record blue me out because it had an overwhelming sadness to it while still being heavy and the vocal delivery feels very honest. Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile: This record just speaks for itself. Placebo - Without You I’m Nothing: I just don’t know another vocalist doing anything even close to Molko in so many aspects. I love the version of the title track on this with Bowie also. Beautiful. Anything Placebo is in my favourites. Jeff Buckley - Grace: My all time favourite favourite record. Jeff was, in my opinion, one of the greatest souls that ever lived and his voice will forever be untouchable. That’s just me, the other guys have their own tastes but this is my personal standpoint.

As an artist and performer how important it is for you to give your audience an endless memory by them saying "that was intense"?

Absolutely imperative although it’s not a challenge at all, it’s a given. Majority of shows we play, it takes me about 15 minutes to remember how to breathe after. Everyone gives it everything they’ve got and I think that’s the beauty about being on stage. We’re all 100% emotionally invested in each others crafts and we could be on a stage we’ve never been on before and it feels like home.

I was blown away by the violent way you can crate music but at the same time there is beautiful moments in there, how important is to have band members that share your same point of views in a musical way?

I think not as such same points of view, but members with eclectic and unique points of view, working together towards the same idea. The light and dark shades are reflective to life in general and I’d say these things being clear in our music is a reflexion of honesty. Honesty with ourselves, each other and our music/audience.

What is your thought in the current music business, how much effort a band have to put into to be heard and to have some sort of success?

Well you’re not going to put together anything like what we’re doing and earn a living off it in this country. The business side of things has always taken a backseat with us. In saying that, it’s important to a certain extent but we’re definitely (at this point anyway) travelling around, making friends and building up a strong/loyal community in which we would like to share this experience with. With anything, success if all conjecture. It’s a self established goal and the idea of succeeding in regards to your personal values. So in my opinion, we are successful. This is enough for me right now.

Your last release "Gravity" in my opinion is an opus, it feels like a life journey, how much input did everyone contributed to make this record a master of it's own?

Gravity was really just a little concept I was playing with at the time. I really wanted to get something strong out as a unit with our solid lineup. The concept is really quite observational and brutal in nature. Basically summing up the idea of birth, life, death and rebirth as transitional inevitabilities. The character takes form of a narrator, living inside a soul that is enduring and learning such fate. All members came together to create the piece. Whether it be shared duties recording piano parts or just handling their own instruments parts. Finally, Nish mixed and mastered the fucker, which was a massive learning curve for everybody I’d say. We’re all growing into the strongest versions of ourselves.

Chris your lyrics are just something that a lot of people can relate too, what makes you write such as strong and dark but at the same time meaningful, what sort of message are you trying to deliver?

I’ve always been a person that values truth and honesty over diplomacy. I just say it how it is and try not to fabricate complexity by adding superfluous vocabulary. The idea of my lyrics is to stimulate the senses. Either in a visual way or a nostalgic feeling that makes you feel alive. That’s for this record anyway. Truth be told, It all gets spat out on a piece of paper without any thought. Then when I wake up in a different mind state, I refine it so it still makes sense. Sometimes you’re feeling something so passionately that the actual words hold no meaning and need a second look.

Who were your main inspirations to write and put lyrics together?

I’ve always written, even as a child. I guess it’s always been something that nobody could ever take away from me and thusly has been a gift I’ve held dear for some time. To be frank, as many inspirational people as their are out there. My writing is on its own journey. I don’t want to say things other people have already said, no matter how amazing the sentiment may be. I’m very good at disturbing people’s beliefs and thoughts, not deliberately, but I love the idea of everything I’ve ever ‘known’ to be turned upside down. I’m also very bad at being certain about things. I’m not a logical person and the idea of certainty/stability bore me beyond belief.

The last song on Gravity has that spoken word at the end of the song and the part that strike me the most was when the narrator said "if you have any possessions, give it all away" what is the message you are trying to send across?

Well the whole idea of Rebirth was to throw a curveball. Birth, Life, Death - these things are certain. Rebirth is a concept dreamed up by humans, for humans. This is the shit that keeps life interesting. A lot of people don’t recognise this either that it’s actually the uncertainty that keeps their minds and souls alive. So who better than Alan Watts and his own words of wisdom to add the element of conjecture and ‘certainty in uncertainty’. “Don’t cling to things”, don’t hold on to what you know or what you think you have, it’s going to change and one day go away. But please note: with Gravity is was never intended to be a solid message for people. It’s just food for thought. It’s a personal reflection and I’m not by any means saying ‘live your life like this’. It’s just insight into where I was at that point in time.

Let's deviate a bit from the music side and let's talk about your views about society in general, is this a better world to live in?

Better than what? It’s the only world we have. It’s full of pain, suffering, joy, love, loss… The way I view the world is like a massive canvas. There’s paint everywhere but not all aspects of the peace are going to be the colours or shapes that you can relate to. I’m not entirely sure whether I see it like this because I’m a coward and need to take a back seat or if it’s just my place in society to think like this. As far as I can tell I’m not hurting anybody and hopefully actually bringing a few people up (lets not kid ourselves though). This being said, everybody has their own struggles. A lot of mine are internal and health based. I have a good family, a house I’m welcome in, I’ve travelled extensively. These inner issues provide me with some challenges but they also make me get up every day and want to do something with it. I think for someone with a different genetic make up, the challenges would be elsewhere, inviting them to see the world in a different light.

Also apart from creating music you love photography, how much inner peace you found when you see something that you want to capture and show it to the world?

It just depends where I am at a certain point in time. Sometimes the beauty is just too fucking beautiful to capture in any generic forms of art. If I didn’t have to work I would definitely live behind my camera by day and in a studio writing music at night. This would be incredible but for now I view the day job as earning my keep so I can continue to explore.

Would you "compromise" and make your music more accessible so it can be heard by a bigger audience or this is something that has never crossed your mind?

Not deliberately. But I don’t really see us as a severely underground or inaccessible band. Most of the inspiration comes from melody and the rhythmic aspects are not necessarily difficult to digest. We build our audience by emotionally connecting with them. And that’s what we’ll continue to do through our music and lives in general. The sounds will only change to facilitate getting out how we feel within the foundation of our musical integrity.

The balance between all your records are very different but still keeping the Deadspace sound, would it be major changes for the next record?

Exactly what I was saying before. Nish has grown as a producer, we’ve all grown as musicians. My voice is more of a reflection of where I am right now. We have new ideas on tones, new ideas on what is ‘us’ in general. The production on our split is a lot cleaner, the low end has been handled in a much more experienced way. I also tracked my vocals in a studio with a producer, mainly as a confidence boost as they are very defined compared to beforehand.

Thanks Chris for your answers, final question, what do you expect from 2017 and onwards?

I expect the world to keep orbiting the sun. I expect people to be people. Some will be born, some will die. One man will drink alone every night until he shoots himself, another with start a multi million dollar company and live on materialistic happiness until he loses a house in a divorce.

For us, I expect that we keep doing what we’re doing. Making noise, meeting amazing people, playing amazing shows and expanding our handprint on the world bit by bit.

#deadspaceaus #deadspaceband #blackmetal #gothrock #australianband

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swonkimn · 4 years ago

Text

Feelings

Let’s just get it out.

I’m feeling more and more dissatisfied with my life, which feels like a regular emotion for me. Isn’t it so familiar, typing in this online blog with its familiar navy background about dissatisfaction and unhappiness with myself. Wow. But I am feeling unhappy, and it feels progressive. I don’t think that I have a shopping problem, i think that I have an unhealthy fixation on the past and how seemingly “perfect” it was. I was at a thinner weight, with less responsibilities, more prospects, and surrounded by people who were mine--my blood family. But these days I feel bogged down, heavier, from my literal weight gain, my marriage that comes with obligations, a career that I worked to obtain for more than 6 years...and now semi-dread. I feel so heavy, and it makes me want to reach back to some familiarity and control...which manifests with a fixation on my weight. I feel like if I’m able to control my weight and go back to a lighter (literally) state of being, then I’ll also find the energy, gumption, and desire to revert back to the person I used to be. Who was happier, simpler, more positive.

The sad thing is that when I was dating Charlston, things didn’t feel happier--they felt more significant. (I felt important doing important things and striving after lofty goals and integritous pathways.) And I guess that’s true even now; my life isn’t happier, it’s more significant. I’m weighed down with caring for terminal patients, people whose lives are literally straddling the line between life and death; I’m weighted down with terminal MILs and with husbands who carry baggage that I can’t even begin to attempt to heal or touch or even mention. I’m paying for my mom’s new car and giving thousands of dollars to them to settle their debt because they can’t on their own. I’m filled to the brim busy taking care of other people’s lives. And now Charlston wants to start a family which will just be another life to add to that list--a life that will outlast even mine in length. Motherhood is significant, it’s “worth its while” as they say. (But really, stopping now to think is all of this truly the right way to think? Does this mean that my life gained “direction” and “value” and “worth” and “significance”? A life spent doing sacrificial and selfless deeds--is that more significant than a life squandered and selfish and gluttonous? Isn’t life just life? Starting this thought with the juxtaposition between happiness and significance made sense, but the deeper I probe, the more I just feel like I was becoming some kind of twisted self-importance. An arbitrary value system that I put on myself to figure out what I’m working towards).

So it’s just a whole bundle of repressed emotions that I don’t even know how to work out. It’s not that I regret my life, but I’m overwhelmed at how much my life has changed since my girlhood. It’s not that I wish for a luxurious life, like what Charlston says to me. I’m just internally reeling at the responsibility and significance of my life. I am filling my life with jobs and responsibilities that are significant but I’m none the more important to the people in my life. I am a grunt whose life has been filled with important tasks, but they can only exist as far as insomuch I refuse to exert the opposing force that I, too, am deserving of rest, service, time, and attention. Because it’s almost like people and things and jobs and responsibilities have become more prominent, but I myself am becoming edged out of my own life. When I’m alone at home, I don’t have a clue on how I want to spend the available hours anymore. It’s a much easier question to answer if I ask myself about the chores that need to be done. Being completely alone this weekend, I don’t know how to answer the question of how exactly I want to spend this day. Do I want to read? Disappear into a busy city? Lounge by the pool? Be with people? No I don’t want to be with people because they only expect from you and get disappointed if you don’t do something or say something that benefits them. And even if they don’t, they eventually will--because people by nature keep count. Maybe this is even me keeping count.

I think it’s important how I feel like I don’t matter in my own life. Even taking a break isn’t much of a break because there is the underlying messages that exist: there are so many things that just keep moving even when I want to take a break. I wish that a break could just mean that--that all things and involved parties and sicknesses and relationships could halt alongside me. But obviously life doesn’t work that way; when I am not present during a responsibility, someone else has to step in. My life is a shift, just like in retail or service work or hospitality. When I call out of work, there is another nurse/group of nurses who feel that absence. When I want to “call out” of my life and its obligations, the responsibility lands heavily on someone who has to put the additional work on their shoulders.

I know that these things must sound like obvious truths, but maybe what it is is that I’ve always had a very self-centered attitude. It’s been me thinking about me, but also not expecting others to think about me either. It’s not like my parents really were present during my adolescence or developing years. Or did they, and I am actually more selfish that I perceive myself right now? Did I take from others and also then deceive myself to be a self-sufficient person..?

I guess simply put, I used to give myself each day for my own enjoyment. My presence or absence never really mattered, except perhaps to my sister and parents. Even my friends realized that I go off on my own and find difficulty in staying connected with others when the interactions are not in person. But now I struggle with the reality that my life is maturing into ongoing connection--the people who are sick in the hospital continue to be sick even when I have a two day break, and they are often still there when I come back. I don’t know why I struggle so much with this concept, the idea of presence and absence being part of the same fabric. That absence from something means that I am present in something else, and vice versa. I think it bothers me because I then have to take into consideration what my absence will mean to these people/responsibilities that have grown to include me. The natural consequence, I think, for the avoidant person that I type myself to be, would be disengage from as many things as possible in order to not have any causal effect on anything. But...is that even possible? Such a life of no consequence? And is that really what I want?

I just feel like Charlston places a lot of his expectations on me which are unhealthy consequences of him dealing with his mother. Rather than seeing the situation for what it is, I feel like the entire family is romanticizing something that is actually unhealthy. Prolonging death is unhealthy to me. It’s not understandable to me. Death is death. It’s not noble when teachers sacrifice their lives and wages for their students within a broken down system; it’s not admirable when nurses all have to take stimulants and antidepressants to shoulder the burden of caring for so many patients; and it’s not right to praise a man who refuses to let his wife pass away. But Charlston and my siblings in law all do, and my FIL doesn’t know what he can and cannot control. Nobody is having that talk with him. It’s nobody’s place; it’s God’s place to tell us how life is meant to be lived, but as long as we’re including God in this picture...I feel like I’m not exactly listening to Him either. Either life is celebrated so that each and every doldrum moment is special and radiant and to be savored, or else nothing matters and nothing is of consequence. I may be thinking in extremes here, but I can’t stop landing at this conclusion each and every time my mind travels down this road.

I don’t know if this is a cynical part of me, but I’m starting to devalue life. Rather than life being something to fight for, death is more something that’s inevitable and looming and ever advancing. Rather than waking up each day as something to fight for, death is something that I grow to not wanting to fight anymore. Not that I am suicidal in any way--there’s no point unnecessarily killing a life when it’s healthy--but when a life has started to go down hill, I just don’t see the point in resisting it. For what and for whom? Does it glorify God when we resist death when God Himself created us as mortal beings? Why push back something that is part of our identity? When trees die and animals die and structures break and rivers dry up? It’s finite, this world and us. Life can’t just be trying extending our days can it?

Oh God, so what is life then? And can it be that I’m just having an existential crisis dressed up? Really? I’ve heard my dad say so many times that he’s just waiting to die, and sometimes I feel that way too now. Again, not in a way where I’m eagerly looking forward to death, but more like a mental posturing like death is the only exit and those who are trying to escape it for even one more day are just being delusional. So then health doesn’t matter, relationships feel like obligations and just people being disappointed in you when you don’t give them what they want; each day doesn’t matter, this body that we are encased in doesn’t even matter. Pleasure doesn’t exist because it’s often at the expense of other people’s time, energy, and suffering. To have something means that others are denied. What is this black hole of thinking that I just can’t seem disappearing into these days?

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tune-collective · 8 years ago

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Every Wonder Girls Single Ranked From Worst to Best: Critic's Take

With the release of “Draw Me,” a K-pop dynasty came to an end.

With the release of “Draw Me” on Thursday (Feb. 9), K-pop’s retro darlings Wonder Girls came to a final end. The bittersweet single served both as a farewell song from the girl group and a celebratory track to commemorate their 10th anniversary. While “Draw Me” is a sentimental rock ballad, it’s significantly different from most of Wonder Girls’ singles and raises the question of which sonic style worked best for the pioneering girl group over the years.

For the first part of their career, Wonder Girls favored nostalgia-inducing dance tracks and then in 2015 switched to band-oriented music. While they had several B-sides turned into singles (like “This Fool,” “Me,In” and “R.E.A.L”) and many great B-sides (shout-out to “Faded Love” and “To the Beautiful You”), it was 12 singles that propelled their career. So now that they’ve officially come to an end, it’s time to revisit the best and worst of Wonder Girls.

Read on for Billboard‘s ranking of every Wonder Girls single:

12. “The DJ Is Mine” (2012)

The song was created for the Wonder Girls’ TeenNick movie, when they were trying to make it big in the U.S. and, unfortunately, isn’t the girls at their best. Starting off from the dubstep intro, “The DJ Is Mine” didn’t really match the girl group that had built their reputation on pop tracks that reinvigorated the sound of yesteryear. The song morphed into an electro-pop number that utilized heavy Auto-Tune, before returning to that dubstep sound for Yubin’s rap bridge. It was so anachronistic from what Wonder Girls had been doing until that point that “The DJ Is Mine” wasn’t really the break-into-America single that it could have been.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doXnuStEf2I

11. “2 Different Tears” (2010)

Their first post-”Nobody” single tried to revive Wonder Girls’ retro styling with this disco-inspired track, which they released in both English and Korean. But after a promising piano-based, soulful opening verse, the song shifts to a rather messy dance track that tries really hard but falls flat after being flooded with digital beats and pulsing synths that just make the song’s composition come off as overwhelming. It was also, notably, the first song with member Hyelim after Sunmi left the group. (She returned in 2015, after members Sunye and Sohee left the band.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rxh3_sr5UAE

10. “Like Money” feat. Akon (2012)

Another English single that broke away from their typical sound, “Like Money” struggled with Wonder Girls’ desire to dominate the American music market and didn’t really fit into the band’s artistic style. Like “The DJ Is Mine,” “Like Money” was an electro-pop single infused with dubstep, but it didn’t suffer as much from saccharine banality. Instead, it featured Wonder Girls as the power vocalists that they are thanks to the song’s blaring melody. Though its composition was a bit awkward with a lengthy bridge from Yubin and featured artist Akon, “Like Money” was Wonder Girls at their most confident.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quE6Cq4Q2bs

9. “Irony” (2007)

K-pop debut singles are typically something to look at fondly, but not to necessarily listen to on repeat years down the line. “Irony” is pretty dated with its R&B-pop styling and redundant beat, but the sleek, hook-filled chorus was filled with promise. Plus it’s the only Wonder Girls single that was promoted with original member HyunA.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxFxoLxmcdg

8. “Like This” (2012)

The simple, repetitive clapping rhythm and the continuous synth whirring of “Like This” worked and felt very Wonder Girls, but it didn’t really have anything going for it except being ridiculously, perhaps irritatingly, catchy. While it featured some great vocal runs, “Like This” suffered from trying to be nothing more than a viral phenomena with an addictive chorus, which it definitely was.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EZTUYwjWBs

7. “So Hot” (2008)

Fresh off the success of “Tell Me,” “So Hot” was the group’s comical response to their sudden fame. The synthy song and its catchy “so hot hot” chorus went viral upon its release and proved that Wonder Girls weren’t just a one hit wonder with a capital W. It may not have aged well, but the campy single is a K-pop classic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmun5PO54VE

6. “Draw Me” (2017)

Their newest, and final, single, is a sweet rock ballad that equates their career to a painting that began with a blank canvas. Tinkling synths add a dreamy feel to the simple tune, and mellow raps from Yubin and Hyelim draw it together. Co-written by Yeeun and Yubin, the melancholic melody and sweet vocals featured in “Draw Me” are a touching bookend to Wonder Girls’ iconic career.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r73_xQrpSMQ

5. “Be My Baby” (2011)

More of a straight up motown pop song than many of their other post-2010 tracks, the frollicking “Be My Baby” featured vibrant clapping beats and soaring synths that made it impossible to ignore. The addictive chorus with its crooning pleas is so stereotypically Wonder Girls that “Be My Baby” reinvigorated life into the group after their overseas absence and the rather lackluster “2 Different Tears.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fy4cqWMhyI

4. “Tell Me” (2008)

No other song affected Wonder Girls’ career as much as the ‘80s-inspired “Tell Me,” which went went viral as YouTube was just beginning out and resulted in a dance craze in South Korea based around the single’s easy-to-learn choreography and Sohee’s meme-worthy exclamation of “omona!” (“oh my gosh!”) during the chorus. The song’s propulsive beats don’t really stand up to the test of time, but the electropop chorus lives on as a K-pop legend. (“Tell Me” was also notably the first single to feature rapper Yubin, completing what would go on to become the group’s most prominent lineup along with members Yeeun, Sunmi, Sunye, and Sohee.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vVHy0XoIN4

3. “Why So Lonely” (2016)

The psychedelic track was one of the best songs in Korea last year with its blend of ‘70s rock and reggae. The mellow lyrics and mid-tempo rhythm had the perfect beachy feel for a summer song, and “Why So Lonely” ended up becoming one of the biggest hits in South Korea last year. The song was so radically different from what Wonder Girls had been before that it appeared to signal a major shift in direction away from synthpop but ultimately became their final single prior to announcing their break-up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYGODWJgR-c

2. “Nobody” (2009)

The group’s representative song “Nobody” came on the heels of their successes with “Tell Me” and “So Hot” and had an undeniable impact on the Wonder Girls’ career, and K-pop in general. It revived the industry with a modern update to old school sounds that drew on Motown and the disco era for inspiration, which resulted in the single becoming one of the most popular Korean songs ever. “Nobody” was the first K-pop song to appear on the Billboard Hot 100 at No. 76 in 2008, resulting in the girl group heading stateside to try and break into the music market here. While their efforts ended up seeing few results, aside from the Wonder Girls touring with the Jonas Brothers and starring in their own TeenNick movie, “Nobody” and its addicting chorus was one of the first K-pop songs to bring the genre to the United States. The song was still a major, career-defining hit, and by the time the “Nobody” crazy had died down, Wonder Girls had recorded the song in Korean, English, Japanese, and Mandarin.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BA7fdSkp8ds

1. “I Feel You” (2015)

After member changes and three years out of the limelight, Wonder Girls returned in 2015 with a new, four-member lineup and a song that shook-up their career in the best way possible. “I Feel You” was a transformative song for Wonder Girls as the group went from a dance team to a band. Although it took until their 2016 single for the members to fully participate in the instrumentals on their music, Wonder Girls’ 2015 album Reboot was one of the best K-pop albums we’ve seen in years. The song mimicked ‘80s synthpop in both sound and visual style and was released alongside a music video that took place in 1987.

The sophisticated “I Feel You” featured sultry vocals and twinkling synths that modernized the sound of the ’80s without feeling too cheesy. Compared to their earlier retro-infused singles, “I Feel You” was miles ahead of the curve and proved that Wonder Girls were not only still relevant to the K-pop industry, but that were true leaders of the genre.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9QXQz6uE0M

Source: Billboard

http://tunecollective.com/2017/02/16/every-wonder-girls-single-ranked-from-worst-to-best-critics-take/

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