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knifefather · 3 years ago

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Looking Up at Us [Submission]

'Looking Up at Us

|*| DISCLAIMERS: Hello! It me! This is my first fic ever. Uhhh, Giorno’s a giant dick and Narancia’s an angel (literally and figuratively :] ) So yandere-ish themes, manipulation, and other mean things. This is a three-year span after the events of VA. |*|'

I APPLAUD YOU ON YOUR FIRST FIC ANON!!! This one really hit me right in the feels :'') Honestly you wrote Giorno so well because I literally wanted to strangle him!! He reminds me so much of Dio here and I fucking love it. I can't believe he stole their song ;a; OP outlined the yandere and manipulation content warnings, but there is also some major character death! Please be warned!

“Hey, when we get married let’s use that Aerosmith song.”

Narancia laughed as the smaller of the two let out an embarrassed squeal and tried burying her head deeper into his neck. They laid together on his bed in his rather untidy room talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds. But he was always so brash, and making her red was a favorite pastime of his. “Duuude, don’t even joke about that!’” she giggled, “We’re, still, ya know teens,” she emphasized that by flicking her hand around. He continued laughing, tightened his grip on her, and kissed the top of her head. Even if he was teasing the poor girl, he always meant what he said.

“You’d look really pretty in this dress I saw the other day. It wasn’t long as shit like those rich people…” Narancia slowly trailed off realizing she wasn’t responding. When he looked down at her, he saw she wasn’t smiling anymore and looked lost in her own thoughts. He wiggled away from her a little to look at her properly and softly called her name. “Hey, you good?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she looked at him earnestly and caught the poor boy off guard. What was going through that busy head of hers? He was speechless and for a moment he gawked at her. The frenzied teen then added with intensity, “You better stay with me forever and ever and and- I don’t- just… please..” And it finally clicked what she meant, and he gave her his biggest smile.

“Don’t worry, miele! You’re gonna have to deal with me for a while,” he chimed as he pulled her closer and gave her another peck to her forehead. She looked up at him with watery eyes and smile, “I’d love nothing more. Just promise me, please?

He leaned lower to kiss her softly on the lips. They both knew that was an impossible promise but still, “I’ll try my best.” He snuggled back up to her and they both slowly sunk back into the previous loving tranquility. They’ll both try, but mafia life was so unpredictable, but it’ll be worth the try if they could stay together.

“So, what are we gonna name our first kid?”

“Narancia Ghirga!!”

“Yeah, Mrs. Ghirga?” Narancia couldn’t stop laughing even as he was shoved off the bed.

Three months. It’s been three months, but his voice still rings in her head. His goofy smile, bubbly laughter, his smothering hugs were all nothing but distant memories that no longer warmed her, but instead chilled her core. Their places where they caused mischief and held impromptu dates only held ghosts of what was and what could have been. These thoughts haunted her every waking moment. Even when she slept, they caused nothing but sweet dreams that left her bitter and empty in the morning. But Narancia wasn’t the only one she missed dearly. Finding Abbacchio in the state he was and running back full of hope to the colosseum only to find out Bruno was the final victim. But thanks to him, they find out he was actually the first. Giorno had admitted after their discovery that they had been travelling with a reanimated corpse. At the time her, Mista, Trish, were too busy crying to even care.

For the new Don’s first year, she was present. When Fugo returned, she welcomed him with open arms. She stayed for as long as could but looking at Giorno mad her sick. Violence and anger grew inside by just being around him and his voice made her gag. Staying there brought her closer to the edge as she struggled between collapsing into tears or killing her Don in a fiery fit. That’s when she distanced herself from everyone. Of course, it worried Fugo and Mista to death when the last surviving member of their gang suddenly went off the radar. Even if it was for the wellbeing of everyone there, it didn’t sit right with anyone. Especially Giorno Giovanna.

The two-year absence was hell, for her anyways. At first jobs would take her resumes and interviews, but soon they would turn her away at sight of her face or sound of her voice. Her temporary apartment kicked her out and hotels refused service to the point she was forced to either stay in motels or rent somewhere for a while until they too kicked her out. When people started to whisper and gossip as she passed by, that was the final straw. It was lonely. It was frustrating! Was it because of the mafia association? No, that should guarantee a decent job and place to stay. And then it clicked. The root of her problems lies at the head of Passione.

So, here the young woman stood in front of him, arms wrapped securely around herself, as Mista stood watching them at the closed entrance. Giorno’s grown, nearly six feet and obviously physically stronger than before. She squeezed tighter hoping to mimic Narancia’s hugs as she tried to gather her courage and find the words. For a while it was suffocating silence as no one dared to speak first. They were both strategizing, planning how to attack and counter the other’s words. But finally, the devil’s replacement spoke, “Hello, tersoro. I’m glad to see you’re-“

“Cut the crap. I know what’re you doing. Stop it.” And with that she turned to leave. Mista stepped out the way to let her go until a soft laugh stopped her, “Are you still torn up about them? Really?” She stopped and slowly turned to face him. She finally snapped.

“Are you serious?” She spat at him. “Why wouldn’t I be upset that you killed my friends? My family?!”

“The love of your life?” She glared at the blonde as he had the audacity the smile at the thought of their deaths. In that moment, she wanted to kill him. Her stand was at the ready. Mista didn’t even attempt to reach for his gun as he knew she wouldn’t do something stupid like that, but he, too, thought of shooting Giorno as well. Giorno tsked and slowly walked around his desk to lean against the front of it, showing just how little her threat meant to him. “My dear, you don’t understand. They were steppingstones to help change Passione for the greater good.”

“Steppingstones?! Don’t act like their bodies were your path to “greatness”! What exactly have you fixed, huh? There are SEVEN more assassin squads. You haven’t stopped drugs like you promised Bruno. Instead, you’ve barely stopped selling it kids ten and under! Don’t act like they were your sacrifices!” The rage burned inside her, and she could no longer control her words. “Why did they have to go to heaven, huh?! They deserve to be here, not you! Bruno should be where you are! Leone should’ve left you die! Narancia should be back in school! It’s all your FAULT!” They both lunged at Giorno only for GER to grab the opposing stand and for Giorno to effortlessly grabbed her fist. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist and the other then swooped in and tilted her head up to kiss her ever so softly.

“My, my such a temper,” he murmured, “I’ve always loved that about you.” In that moment all the fire that was built up for years turned ice cold, as fear gripped her insides. She wasn’t expecting this strength. Wide eyes stared up into the unnatural turquoise of his. He slowly turned her head from side to side, as if examining her. “You poor thing. You look so tired and overworked,” and she was. “I bet those horrible businesses could see it on you. Turned you away like street trash. Poor, poor thing.” The young woman’s voice had left her as she tried to process everything. Just what was he planning?

“D-Don’t act like you didn’t do all that crap to me” She hated the sudden stutter in her voice but was thankful words even came out. The young woman started fighting in his grip which caused him to tighten. “Let me go! What was that kiss?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” But she was only met with a chuckle. As he spun her around and pressed her back against his chest. “My dear, I was only trying to bring back what was mine. Tesoro, mia. So independent. We’ll have to break that.” She fought harder and let out a cry of pain as Giorno dug his fingernails in the meat of her cheeks, getting annoyed at her fighting spirit.

“Now, I want you to listen to listen to me. I really don’t want to repeat myself,” he nipped her neck, “nor do I want to hurt more than I should.” Giorno leaned closer and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ve loved you for too long to let you get away and whore around like you did with him.” He shoved her to the ground and held her there with his foot, pressing harder with every squirm. “Go against me, and your little angelo will be dug up, burned, and flushed down a portable. Or maybe I’ll finish off the rest of your gang.” She struggled to look up at him as he glared down at her. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he spoke again, “Whose to say mafioso even go to heaven, hm? My sweet, delusional darling.” Giorno dropped to the floor and scooped her up in his arms again hugging her tightly. She was too scared to fight back. Not knowing what would set him off. He quietly laughs at how broken the poor woman was. So easy to break in already.

“Let me take care you. Love you. Cherish you like you deserve. You’ll learn to love me.” He gripped her arms in a bruising grasp and whispered dangerously smooth, “Or you’ll die trying.”

___________________________________________

Her wedding gown shimmered and swayed gently as she and her new husband made their way to the center of the dance floor. Each step weighted heavy on her heart as the gravity of it all grew. Their movements were calculated and coordinated, just like everything else because it was all artificial for her. There was no true love, no true feelings in this forced arrangement. No more fight in her dull eyes that refused to make eye contact with anyone because then they would see just how much he’s broken her in just a year. One wrong move will surely be the one she’ll ever make.

No one in the ballroom could see the despair ripping away whatever dignity was left as she wrapped her arms around his neck or the bile she choked back as he greedily slipped his arms around her waist. If only she could keep tightening her arms like a noose until he was no more but a horrid memory. The room was filled with ‘awws’ and loving gazes as the couple settled gracefully into the position they had practiced many a times before. She finally turned her emotionless gaze to him. Giorno Giovanna chuckled at her. His new wife was so dramatic.

“And now the newly weds will share their first dance together!” someone, who she didn’t care enough to learn their name, announced as if he was getting paid on his excitement and not on the fact if he squealed, he gets killed. She closed her eyes as the crowd cheered, swallowed her sickness, and sighed. She made it this long without throwing up or crying, she can get through this dance.

“The groom has picked this song out specifically for his new, beautiful wife. Isn’t that romantic?” The crowd cheered and clapped in blissful ignorance at the display of affection. The bride’s eyes snapped open at this new revelation and stared in shock at Giorno who only smiled. But when the music began, her heart finally burst. Tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks as that Aerosmith song, their song, played and she was forced to move to its now bittersweet beat. Giorno’s wife shakily looked up at him and chocked on her tears. Once again, chuckled and lean in to whisper with honeyed venom his final victory,

“Oh miele, I bet he’s looking up at us right now, amore mio.”

(OK Tumblr formatting is weird but I wanna add: Yes it Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that Narancia and darling picked as their first dance which Girono stole. And Narancia was the only one allowed to call darling Miele as an inside joke for “Honey! I’m Home”. Also WHY WAS THIS 2K+???)

#god im still in awe of this #so freakin good #narancia ghirga x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #cw yandere #cw major character death #submission #not mine #jjba #not sfw #suggestive

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lexosaurus · 4 years ago

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I Love You

My fic for day 5 of DP Side Hoes Week (yes I’m a day behind).

Character: Jazz Theme: Hospital

This oneshot exists within my Everything Was White fic series [ao3]. You do NOT have to be following Everything Was White to understand this fic, this one exists as a prequel in the timeline and I give enough context in the text for anyone to be able to understand it.

Okay, enjoy!

---

Jazz sat on the armchair, her gaze blank. Hazy. She hadn’t moved since she sat down some time ago. Time moved without reason, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been. Her back hurt and her lips were chapped, but she hardly noticed her discomfort.

The only thing that mattered was the person laying on the bed before her.

The person she hardly recognized.

Four weeks. That’s how long he had been missing from their lives, that’s how long the Guys in White had him. Twenty-eight days on the dot.

She could never forget his eyes as he was dragged out the door. They were wild, desperately staring down their parents who were both pinned down by government agents with guns trained to their heads. He screamed, struggling against his captures.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because in the end, he was thrown in the back of a white van. All while Jazz stood on the stairs doing nothing.

She should have freed him. She could have helped. But she was too weak.

Too weak.

Her eyes stung, and she wanted to cry. Break down. Sob. But she had already used up her stock of tears hours ago, when she finally saw him for the first time since he’d be transferred out of critical care.

He was frail, tiny. Nothing but skin and bones. His body was scarred, torn, encased in gauze and casts. Doctors fluttered about, talking in hushed tones as they analyzed her brother’s body. They tried not to show it, but Jazz knew they were baffled by him.

There was talk about his injuries. He hadn’t woken up yet, at least not completely, but Jazz was already told of the more...drastic injuries.

The Y scar on his chest.

The paralysis.

The starvation.

No one knew what the permanent effects were going to be. No one knew how he was going to fair once he woke up. But there was one thing they all knew for certain, a truth that none of the Fentons had said out loud yet:

Danny was not going to be the same anymore.

She crumbled, allowing her head to fall into her hands. Apparently, she still had more tears to give. A sob tore its way from her throat, pulling with it a wave of emotions that Jazz had just spent the last few hours desperately trying to repress.

She was tired. So, so tired. And yet, this nightmare refused to end.

“Danny, I—I’m so sorry.” Jazz’s voice was raw. The naked truth was hanging right there in front of her, the consequences of her complete failure.

She should have been there for him during the ghost fight. The one between him and Skulker that ultimately led to his revelation right there high in the skies in front of the entire town. She could have helped him.

She should have known the Guys in White would then come surround their house and take him.

She should have tried harder to find him and break him out of the government compound. They tried so hard, but they couldn’t find the stupid building.

She should have practiced her questions better in court. Maybe then the jury would have decided sooner. She could have gotten him released before he was hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

“I love you so much, Danny. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“You alright there, son?” Jack asked. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It didn’t seem to matter. Jazz doubted Danny even heard their father’s question. She was honestly questioning if he even realized they were in the room.

His eyes wandered around the room as if he were still trying to take in the walls of the hospital. He woke up four days ago, and yet every day had been the same blank wandering gaze.

Jazz hoped it was just the pain medication the hospital was giving him. She desperately clung onto the belief that her brother would snap out of it one day and would come home and he would be back to normal.

Back to how he was before.

“Your mother and I are going to meet with the surgeon.” Jack put an arm around Maddie, pulling her into his side.

Her face was white, streaked with red as if she’d been crying recently, and the bags under her eyes had never been so pronounced. But Jazz couldn’t blame her. After all, she probably looked more or less the same.

“Stay with Danny, alright? We’ll come grab you after.”

“Sure, Dad,” Jazz said, putting on a smile she hoped was comforting.

Her mother muttered something that Jazz didn’t catch, and then both parents were gone.

And Jazz was alone. With Danny.

Again.

She turned back to face him. The doctors had said that he’d sustained significant brain damage, and they weren’t sure yet how much communication he would be able to do. He was too drugged up still, too out of it.

He couldn’t speak, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand her.

Or maybe that was her hopeful side talking again. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. She would only be hurt in the end.

“Hey, Danny,” Jazz tried. Her voice was thin. Dry. She tried to wet her lips and spoke again. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re comfortable. If you were wondering, you broke your spine. I mean, I’m sure you already knew that but—” Her voice cracked. “—you know. That’s why you, um, might be uncomfortable right now. It’s the brace.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

Just continued staring at the ceiling.

Jazz wondered if anything was going through his mind. If he had any questions. She would if she were Danny.

She tried to imagine the sort of things he would say. His voice, crackling through the throes of puberty, as he poked fun at her in that annoying way only a brother could accomplish. She tried to envision a world where he could still do that.

And she tried not to think about the fact that there was a good chance that she’d never hear his voice again.

“Your SCI was incomplete, you know. So there’s still a chance…” Jazz shook her head.

There she was getting hopeful again.

“Everyone really missed you, Danny. I—I really missed you.”

He blinked slowly. In her imagination, Jazz heard him say “I missed you too.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“What band are we in the mood for today?” Jazz asked, scrolling through her playlist.

Danny was starting to come to. He seemed to be able to hold eye contact, albeit not for very long, and his minute facial expressions showed at least some understanding of what was happening around him.

Although, he still hadn’t spoken yet.

Jazz glanced brightly down at him. Now that she knew he was conscious of her presence, she couldn’t afford to show up at the hospital in sweats with her tear-stained face anymore. She had to be there for him. She had to be strong.

Maybe she had been too weak to help him before. Maybe back then, she had failed him.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t strong enough to help him now.

“What do you think? MCR? Blink-182?” she asked. “I got these band names from Sam, by the way. So if she lied to me about what music you listen to now, don’t blame me.”

Danny just stared at her with his owl-ish expression.

“Here, if you want, you can choose.” Jazz held her phone screen out in front of him, watching as his eyebrows scrunched up ever so slightly as he gazed up at the screen.

Jazz felt her smile falter for a split second before she pulled her phone away and straightened herself up on her chair.

She had to be strong.

“It’s okay, I’ll just choose one.” She tapped the screen and set her phone down.

The sound of over-compressed guitars filled the tiny bluetooth speaker on the windowsill, and Jazz beamed down at Danny, waiting for that tiny flicker of recognition to hit his face.

And, to her delight, some of the fog in his eyes momentarily lifted. He looked over to Jazz as if he were seeing her for the first time, the shock and disbelief seeping through the blank slate that was his expression.

Jazz was hardly able to keep the glee out of her voice. “You like it?”

His eyes flickered between Jazz and the bluetooth speaker. Back and forth again before settling back on the ceiling.

“Well, I’ll have to thank Sam for the recommendation later! She can’t wait to see you, you know. The doctors are only allowing family in your room right now, but maybe next week if you’re feeling up to it, Sam and Tucker can stop by. I don’t want to make any promises right now, but you never know.”

Danny’s eyes slowly traveled around the ceiling.

“Are you thirsty?” Jazz asked. “Hungry? Well, you’re probably not hungry. Doctors have been monitoring your nutrient intake a lot. I’m glad, too, because you have some color in your face again.”

His eyes shut, and a content smile twitched on his face.

Jazz couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so peaceful.

“I love you, Danny.”

He didn’t respond.

---

Danny was home now. That should have been a good thing.

It should have been.

And it was. In so many ways, it was wonderful having him home again.

But in so many other ways, it wasn’t.

Jazz had been under some illusion that once he made it home, things would go back to normal. Sure, he would be in a wheelchair until his PT started, and he might not be able to turn into a ghost for a few weeks either, but her brother would be home.

Except, Danny never came home. Physically, he did. But mentally he was still trapped somewhere far away.

He was talking now at least. He’d started talking the week before he’d left the hospital. He wasn’t able to speak in full sentences, at least not without pausing, and he wasn’t able to really understand long sentences either, but this was a start.

Jazz wanted to hope that things would get better, but hope was a dangerous drug.

After all, even though he’d started speaking again, he still refused to talk about what happened to him. Anytime Jazz would try to bring the conversation up, he’d clam up and close off for the rest of the day.

And that hurt. It hurt so bad. She so desperately wanted to be there and support him, to help him talk through the trauma he’d experienced, but he just didn’t want to.

But that was okay. It had to be okay. She had to be strong.

She stood in front of his door, pausing only to compose herself before knocking.

He didn’t acknowledge her knock, but Jazz wasn’t expecting him too. He was trying to isolate himself, and Jazz wasn’t going to let him.

She’d already failed him once.

“Good morning, Danny!” Jazz bursted into the room, her voice chipper despite the fact that she hadn’t slept last night.

She doubted that Danny did either.

Danny was lying on top of his comforter, already dressed. Their mom must have gotten him situated before shutting herself down in the lab.

Their parents seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“Come on, get up. I come bearing an activity!”

“Too early,” Danny grumbled.

Jazz ignored him, sauntering into the room brandishing a large, easy piece jigsaw puzzle she’d just ran out to buy that morning.

It was hard to find one for kids that wasn’t either a princess castle or a race car scene. Fortunately, the store had one on sale that had colorful, cartoon baby ghosts covering the image.

“Either you get up, or I drag you up. Either way, you’re doing this puzzle with me.”

“Puzzle?” Danny asked.

Jazz tried not to stare as he struggled upright, only swooping in to set his pillows upright behind him. “Yeah, puzzle.”

She set the box down in front of him, pulling off the lid and revealing the large pieces in front of him.

“That’s...so Boring.”

“Well, the doctors still want you avoiding screens for a little while longer. I figured this was better than staring at the wall.”

Danny eyed the box, his face impassive.

“Here, wait.” She went out into the hallway, grabbing a large piece of cardboard from the wall. “I brought something to make the puzzle on. Figured it would be easier than the mattress.”

“Okay.” He picked up one of the pieces, inspecting it slowly as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“So…” Jazz plopped herself down on the mattress next to Danny and put the cardboard over their laps. “What do you think we should do first?”

Danny gazed blankly down, his eyes trailing between the cardboard and the puzzle piece in his hand. He blinked, and then put the puzzle piece down on the cardboard.

“Okay, we can start with that one!” Jazz chirped.

“No…” Danny ran his hand through his hair. “No that’s not...need to sort.”

“Oh?” Jazz grabbed another piece from the box. “So what should I do with this one then?”

Danny gazed quizzically over at Jazz, grabbing the piece to inspect it. “Edge,” he finally said, setting the piece down on the opposite side of the board from the first piece.

“So we’re sorting the edge pieces from the regular pieces?”

Danny hummed, grabbing another piece from the box.

“Sounds like a good plan!”

They worked together in near silence after that, Jazz only stopping every so often when she could feel Danny’s attention slipping to ask him to help her sort a piece. It was almost cute how determined he was to complete the task correctly. It almost reminded Jazz of the quiet determination that would slip onto his features in the moments just before he transformed into Phantom.

Solving the puzzle was a whole different beast. If Jazz were honest, she wasn’t sure if they would have been able to finish in one sitting. Danny still tired far too rapidly throughout the day, and he still slept for more hours than he was awake.

But finally Danny snapped the last piece into place, completing their simple blob ghost picture.

“Nice job!” Jazz put her hand up for a high five.

Danny blinked, slowly processing the motion, before his brain caught up and he gave a little smirk, a tiny eye roll, but met Jazz’s hand all the same.

She put the cardboard with the now completed puzzle on the floor before sitting back against the fluffy pillows. Breathing out, she allowed herself to sink back into the cushions for just a moment.

She was so tired.

Her brain swirled, and she wanted to sink deeper into the darkness. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Are you asleep?” Danny asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A quiet trepidation settled over the pair. Jazz could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air like forbidden fruit ripe for picking. But the apples were just out of reach, and she knew the branches wouldn’t sink lower until Danny was ready.

But he had to come home first. He would never be ready to tell her what happened until he finally came back to them. And Jazz didn’t know how long that would take.

“I love you,” Jazz said.

Danny didn’t respond.

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2021 #everything was white #no beta!!#my writing #phicc #i'll probs go back like next week and actually edit this oneshot #but not rn during the event week

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retromotherfuckers · 4 years ago

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Six Years (Part 1)

Pairing:

Past/Eventual Bellamy Blake x Fem!Reader, Platonic Octavia Blake x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Octavia knew who she was now, but you couldn’t figure out what the hell you had become.

Warnings:

Some mf ANGST, themes of mental illness and addiction

Word Count:

1.2k ~roughly~

A/N:

FUCK JASON || I will write a part two if requested

It was just supposed to be a few years. Five to be spent underground, escaping the radiation-soaked earth so Praimfaya could finish ravaging the planet.

The arrangement seemed good on paper, but as soon as those steel doors closed, chaos ensued. Clan leader after clan leader came after Skairipa; everyone wanted the bunker to themselves, despite the initial decision to unite. The youngest Blake held her own, taking each of them down, spouting the same phrase after each and every one of them.

“You are Wonkru or you are the enemy of Wonkru. Choose.”

At some point, they gave in, deciding that living under someone else’s reign was better than dying bloody. It was then that a new energy seeped into the bunker, red stained the walls and ghosts lurked the halls, their reminders to choose or die. No one dared to defy her again.

Now, it felt weird to call Octavia, Octavia. That woman - the one wearing her face - that wasn’t her. That was Bloodreina; a ruthless, unforgiving dictator doing what needed to be done to keep her people alive. You and Miller were the only surviving members of the Hundred in the bunker and there wasn’t a day she didn’t ask you for your council. Along with Kane, Indra and Abby.

All that being said, as she lost more and more of herself, so did you.

Everyone could see what you were doing, why it was you and the Red Queen being judge, jury and executioner. You had seen how things were going and decided to take a page from Clarke’s book. It forced Octavia to split the load, even if she didn’t want to.

We bear it so they don’t have to.

You were doing just that when you pulled the trigger that day; but, you couldn’t stop the guilt that filled your stomach, nor the bile the crawled up your throat at the view of the light leaving that blonde girl’s eyes. You held the sobs in, only letting a few silent tears fall as Kane’s begs echoed through your ears. His attempt to beg for the life of a girl with a target between her eyes, futile.

You had a job to do and only when Bloodreina gripped your arm in support, did the two of you raise your guns.

That’s when you remembered what Lexa used to say.

Love is weakness.

Bang!

Leksa kom Trikru was the last thought you let yourself have of before. If you thought of anything or anyone else, he would slip into your mind. You knew that if he was there with you, none of this would be happening - he would stop it at all costs. That simple fact was overwhelming, leading you to sneak into the infirmary and take the same things as the doctor. You saw the stashes; she was stealing things periodically - so you started pulling from the morphine stock.

The irony didn’t escape you, but it kept you breathing. Every kill, every beating, every memory, sucked the air from your lungs. Eventually, thousands of days bled into nights and not only would he not recognize you anymore, but nobody would. It started getting harder and harder to resemble that person staring at you in the mirror; just as difficult as it was to see whatever was left of Octavia.

Then, you got caught, and the confrontation with Bloodreina was exactly what you expected. However, she was anticipating a fight - a last string of hope that maybe you weren’t all lost, that maybe you still wanted to live. When you confessed at the immediate accusation, you saw a flash of a girl you used to know in her eyes.

A flash of the girl they found hidden under the floor. A flash of the girl you held when her first love was killed in front of her. A flash of the girl that is simply a little sister and a daughter, terrified of seeing what life wanted to throw at her. A flash of Octavia. But it was just that. A flash. For Bloodreina saw no trace of the girl her brother loved, all remnants of who you were, gone.

You broke the rules again and no one, no matter the status, was to be exempt from punishment. The Red Queen knew what she had to do and within two days, you were in the fighting pit being reckless. You had no strategy and relied entirely on how well you handled the axe you grabbed at the jump.

Somehow, at today’s reaping, you and Kane ended as the final two. He stared at the crimson liquid you bathed in, the way your shoulders heaved with each breath, and the tears pooling in your eyes. The only sign you were still in there.

You had forgotten Marcus Kane. You had forgotten that the man who raised you was the man standing in front of you. Your axe was at the ready, almost to his neck, but then your father’s eyes connected to yours and you froze. With a deafening screech, the sword in his hands fell to the ground. His mouth was opened to speak, voice low and comforting - words hitting you directly in the chest.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. If this is what you want, it’s okay.”

Neither you nor Marcus noticed the commotion surrounding you, eyes locked on each other’s. It didn’t matter that a hole had opened up from the ceiling; all you could see was the absolute devastation that lived in his muddy orbs, disguised as reassurance.

It ruined you.

There was a sudden change, a ghost you had given up on ever seeing ever again stood in front of you - a torn type of resistance to his posture. He pushed himself between you and your father, your name spoken precisely and with caution. “What are you doing?”

All other thoughts of the current predicament were discarded, only one thing running through your mind. This cannot be real. Why your head decided to fuck with you now, after almost four full years of never letting him in, was what confused you. You couldn’t fathom why he looked different, he looked older. A beard adorned his face, his hair was longer and it looked like he spent the last decade exercising.

Unconsciously, your arm came down, moving the deadly weapon from play. This didn’t feel like a memory, it felt like a memory being created. You felt yourself be dumbfounded when he repeated the question from before, his voice deeper than you remember.

“Bellamy...” The name left your lips in a breath, it tasted so foreign, one you hadn’t spoken in years; it didn’t even feel like you were the one that said it. Taking the smallest step towards him, you just wanted to feel him again. It was as if every time you had pushed him away was meaningless; your heart fluttered and the smallest bit of a wish blossomed in your chest.

But he immediately stepped away from you, something unrecognizable in his eyes - it was a look you had never seen someone wear towards you. You gazed at your father, not knowing if it was for support that you weren’t completely lost or confirmation that you had been gone for too long. You couldn’t read him anymore, and you guessed that was your answer.

It snapped you into the reality that you’ve tried to avoid at all costs.

They’re fucking scared of you.

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phynali · 4 years ago

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Dean’s Body as a Punching Bag

Ever since I made this post about Sam and (his lack of) bodily autonomy (as well as the follow-up post that carries the theme through the other 10 seasons), I’ve been trying to determine what the corollary for Dean is. Re-watching 5x01 made it jump out at me in a huge way:

The bodies of the people that Dean loves are consistently used in a way that hurts/harms Dean and metes out violence against him. And it is specifically his loved ones’ bodies themselves, not shapeshifters or lookalikes or Leviathan either. It is the people he loves’ hands and fists and weapons.

(I need a snappier way to word that, but bear with me).

Where Sam’s bodily autonomy violations occur before he’s born, and are seen as early as the pilot with Azazel in his room and with the Woman in White, Dean’s analogous theme doesn’t sneak in until the mid-season finale with Asylum.

In this episode, Sam gets infected with a sort of ghost-possession/ghost-sickness (another example of a violation of his bodily autonomy) and his internal anger becomes external, focused on Dean. Sam attacks Dean violently, and Dean goes so far as to hand over a (thankfully unloaded) gun and in this altered state, Sam actually tries to shoot him.

Ouch. The person Dean loves and most wants to protect had his body violated and used against Dean. This theme is going to carry us through the next, eh, 10 or so seasons, with some tail-end examples even after that.

In Season 1 we have Asylum mid-season, and we have the finale in which John is possessed by Azazel and hurts Dean most grievously, almost kills him. In Season 2, Sam is possessed by Meg and shoots Dean (in the arm). In Season 3, we had a writers’ strike and a season cut short so I can’t think of any examples there (but lots of other shit to unpack for another day).

The in Season 4, we have Sex and Violence, which is super interesting. While Dean is the one targeted by the siren and therefore the one whose body is used against his brother to hurt him, the actual violence doesn’t start until Sam is also infected. Sam’s body is violated by being held at knifepoint by his brother and his mouth forced open to accept the siren’s venom, but then it’s a fist-fight, a showdown. Both brothers’ bodies being used to hurt the other, but getting to that point required Sam’s body to similarly be ready to be used against Dean.

Season 5 is literally bookended by instances of this happening. First, true to the idea that Dean sees Bobby as family, Bobby becomes possessed by a demon and he violently attacks Dean. And then Swan Song, most famous example by a huge margin, Sam is possessed by Lucifer and is fist-fighting Dean, destroying his face and killing him with his fists, and it is his overwhelming love for Dean that allows him to overcome this possession and save the world.

The theme is carried forward for a few more seasons, pretty much until that narrative turning point in Season 10 that I mentioned in my post about Sam. In Season 6, soulless!Sam allows Dean to be hurt by a monster, harming him by proxy. In season 7, Sam is hallucinating and almost shoots Dean. In season 8, Cass is programmed by Naomi to kill Dean, and in the episode Goodbye Stranger beats him to a pulp before overcoming this programming. In season 9, when Gadreel reveals himself and takes over Sam’s body and kills Kevin, he also attacks Dean.

Skipping Season 10 for a hot sec (more on that below), Lucifer also later possesses Cass in Season 11 and harms both Sam and Dean. In Season 12, we get brainwashed Mary attacking her sons (and overcoming possession thanks to Dean). And possibly examples from S13-15 that I’m missing (Garth being affected by Michael? Cass being affected by Rowena’s spell? Both Sam and Dean were affected by the Witch from Wizard of Oz, right? I honestly can’t recall the late seasons near so well). But regardless we see the theme play out in the final 5 seasons, just less and a bit different than it had prior.

Now, let’s unpack the S10 shift a bit, and why it changes things for this theme of Dean’s.

In S9, Dean takes on the Mark of Cain under the weight of guilt and self-loathing from having violated Sam’s bodily autonomy by tricking him into being possessed by an angel (and forcibly having him possessed by a demon to then fix that angelic possession). In this instance, Dean is willfully taking on something that alters his own body, and the narrative between he and Sam is flipped. Now Dean is the one with something ‘evil’ marring his body and impacting it outside his control, and now Sam is the one who is ignoring Dean’s protests and autonomy in order to save him from this thing, consequences be damned.

That 2.5 season role-reversal arc was huge for how it changed Sam’s storyline for the final 5 seasons, and similarly huge for how it impacts Dean’s.

Dean is now the one whose body is being used as a weapon against those he loves most, and he is the one suffering that loss of autonomy and control over himself. He is sick with bloodlust, is turned into a demon, is drawn to the First Blade, and is not in full control of himself. When the Darkness is unleashed and Dean suffers the emotional consequences of feeling tied to and drawn to this monster (woman? celestial being? godlike person?) against his will.

The Mark/Darkness narrative shows us that Dean’s body might belong to him, but it too can be corrupted against his will. Dean learns that he won’t always be able to choose, learns what it means not to have control over his own body. That while he puts his family as his duty above all else, while he would sacrifice literally everything (his body, his soul, the entire universe) for his little brother, the opposite might also be true, even if Dean doesn’t want it to be.

(And I said elsewhere that I fundamentally believe this narrative role-reversal was a consequence of him overstepping his ownership over Sam by tricking him into taking Gadreel. Their positions are swapped because they have to be, because narratively it becomes necessary for Dean to know what this loss of autonomy feels like, and for Sam to override his brother’s choices, or else they may never find a sense of equilibrium again).

By the time this Mark/Darkness narrative wraps up, Dean is fundamentally, irrevocably changed. Where in Season 5 it was completely unthinkable that he would agree to be a vessel for Michael, it is in the finale of Season 13, just two seasons after the Darkness storyline wraps up, that we see him take Michael into himself as a snap, in-the-moment decision. What was previously unthinkable is now canon.

Because Dean is now different. Because his core of protecting Sam is the same, but his theme of how others' bodies are used against him has now upended itself, and he now has had his body used against others.

In my post about Sam, I said that in the end for the final seasons, the narrative has shifted from Dean owning Sam’s body to Sam also owning his own, and them acknowledging that they are in this together as a result of Season 10. I believe that happens with Dean as well, owing to this reversal. Sam has now taken some ownership over Dean’s body by getting rid of the Mark, and Dean has relinquished some of his tight-fisted control over himself.

So Sam is sharing ownership over his body with Dean (in the vein of “I can’t pretend you won’t do whatever you can to keep me alive, even if I don’t want it, but we’re in this together” and “if we die we do that together too”), and Dean is also sharing ownership over his body with Sam (in the vein of “I’m no longer convinced you’re going to abandon me, so the things that I will do to keep you by my side will be met equal between us” and “when it comes to keeping you safe, it’s my autonomy I will give up first, not yours”).

But what does this particular form of bodily-violence-from-family say about Dean from a thematic standpoint?

In my post about Sam, I talked about how the themes of possession (ghost and demon) and demon blood are inherently about bodily autonomy and free will.

For Dean, thinking through this theme of his loved ones being used to hurt him, I’m torn trying to find the way to word it, but I feel that it has to do with his themes of self-effacement as love, as protection and duty. It’s about being willing to suffer anything (even to the point of death) to protect his family, the ones he loves most. Family is the end-all-be-all to Dean, and protecting his family (most especially his little brother) is the core and heart of his character. It is a duty and a responsibility and a calling and a purpose.

To remix a quote from the film Legend, Dean’s devotion to his brother (and to a lesser extent, to everyone else he calls family) is how he measures himself. There’s no single word for it, as it’s a mix of protection as love, as an instinct, but also as a fundamental duty, an identity. His internal compass.

So Dean’s narrative invokes free will in a very different way than Sam’s. Dean always had and has free will. He had the will to sell his soul, the will to refuse Michael. He has autonomy over his body and he has choice, so much so that he makes choices over and over for Sam. Instead, Dean’s struggles with autonomy of self as related to his constant effacement (to the point of complete ego-destruction and physical loss of self) for the people he loves. He will die, sell his soul, let himself be beat to a pulp, and anything more that the situation calls for, so long as it means protecting or not harming his loved ones.

The original Swan Song end is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, in the style of Greek tragedy. Sam’s struggle for autonomy, and the moment he claims that autonomy for himself, he falls into the Pit for eternity. Dean’s original intended Swan Song ending is analogous: a struggle to exist as more than his duty to his family, and right after he accepts that Sam is allowed to choose Lucifer and death for himself while Dean may continue on living, he then chooses to fall into the Pit after his brother so they could be together (in Hell, in the Cage) eternally.

Both of them have these absolute tragic flaws and in the first Kripke-era arc, tragic sacrificial ends. Sam’s relating to will and autonomy, Dean’s relating to love, family and protection/duty. Both of them belonging to themselves and to each other.

A few extra things about this theme worth noting:

1. the people who love Dean are always in an altered state when they harm him, whether it be possession, brain-washing, siren venom, soulless, etc etc, which I think goes to show in some ways how this love as a given to people who will never deliberately harm him.

2. in a huge proportion of these instances, Dean is saved by the person who loves him reclaiming themselves over and above their altered state. John overcomes Azazel’s possession (arguably, I would say, deliberately from Azazel, but let’s not quibble). Bobby stabs himself in the stomach to save Dean. Cass overcomes Naomi’s brainwashing. Sam overcomes the literal Devil possessing him. Mary overcomes some brainwashing (I think?). Etc. So Dean's love as sacrifice is rewarded?

3. Sam’s body is the most frequently used to harm Dean.

#supernatural #supernatural meta #spn #spn meta #dean winchester #dean winchester meta #oof #i made myself sad #i gotta stop thinking too much about these damn brothers #long post #long post for ts #violence tw #abuse tw #family violence tw #in a weird way #ask to tag #apologies for typos this got away from me

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

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Golden Bullets, Epilogue

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 1200

Gif is not mine ~ is it from the greatest showman though??

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, blood, sexual themes

~~~

The chime of the elevator arriving to its floor rang out through Harrison’s ears, and he slowly stepped out into the hall. Leaning on his newly acquired black cane, he walked down the familiar hallway to Q’s lab.

“You look like shit.” Tom commented as soon as Harrison stepped into the room.

“Nice to see you too.” He replied. “Anything new for me?”

Tom let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “You’re not in the field anymore, remember? M would have my head if I give you a new gadget.” There was a pause between the two of them as Harrison didn’t know what to say, just looking down at the table of blueprints and computers. “I know why you’re here.”

“And any updates?” Harrison asked.

“You know as much as I do.” He said, “M has been quiet about it, even Moneypenny doesn’t know.”

“I just would’ve thought we’d know something by now.” He mumbled.

“We? Or you?”

Tom’s words made Harrison go silent again, and he turned around to leave the room. He stumbled a bit, still getting used to his cane. Tom called out to him just as he reached the elevator, “Cuba. Last I heard.”

Harrison stepped back into the elevator, leaning against the cool metal as the doors shut once again. He sighed, closing his eyes in hopes of finding some peace. His free hand ghosted over the stitches on his hip from the bullet wound.

If someone would’ve asked him two months ago where he thought he’d be in his life, he wouldn’t have said here. No, he would’ve never even guessed that he’d be anywhere near this physical and mental state. He didn’t feel like an agent anymore, he didn’t feel like a famed womanizer; he just felt lonely.

It had been one and a half months since his last mission ended, since he got shot when trying to protect you from Oddjob’s bullets, since he was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery, since he saw you. You had stayed by his side until he went into surgery, but once he came to, all patched up and okay again, you were gone, vanished without a trace.

The original rumor going around MI6 was that you went awol, mia, rogue. Those rumors still lingered, but then it got out that you had been corresponding with M, on a special top-secret mission. Moneypenny, M’s most trusted assistant, and Tom, M’s most trusted genius, didn’t even know. Harrison hadn’t even heard from you, not truly. All he had was a “wish you were here” postcard from Venice and that didn’t even have a message on it except for a small 006 written in the corner.

For the past few weeks, his life had been full of readjustments. The MI6 physician had barred him from any field work, placing him on temporary leave. He was supposed to keep exercise to a minimum, which was why the only time he got out was when he journeyed to Q to ask him the same question once a week.

When Harrison got back to his apartment, it felt colder than usual as if the window was open, and he never left the window open. He clutched his cane tighter, finger hovering over the trigger button that would turn the simple object into a knife, one Q had designed for him for protective measures. Slowly, his eyes scanned his dark living room before flicking on the light.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Nothing except for the new “greetings from Havana” postcard sitting on his coffee table.

Smiling to himself, he eased up as he saw the recognizable “006” in the corner. He toyed with the postcard in his hand, making his way over to the open window across the room. The moment he shut and locked it, he heard a creak in the floorboards down the hall in his bedroom.

He set the postcard back down on the coffee table on his way through the living room and down the hall. He stepped into his bedroom, turning on the light in the process. Just as he was about to go check further in his apartment, he noticed a new object in his room. In the armchair in the corner of the room sat a familiar hat- the hat of Oddjob, and peaking out from under the hat was a golden gun.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a martini around here?” He heard a voice from behind him. “Shaken. Not stirred.”

Smirking, Harrison turned around. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

He barely got the words out before your lips were on his for a passionately tender kiss. Harrison dropped the cane to wrap both of his arms around your waist. Your lips pulled away from his, “I told you I’d kill Oddjob. Sorry it took so long.”

“Anytime away from you is too long, angel.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.” You smiled, but the playfulness dropped when your hand brushed over the wound. Your fingers felt the scarred skin, still recovering from the bullet, as his own fingers traced over your old bullet wound. You whispered quietly to him, “So now you know what it feels like to get shot.”

“It’s a feeling I never want to experience again.” His hand trailed up from your hip to cup the side of your face.

“Me neither. I know that you can handle yourself, but you really scared me that night.”

“That’s the job, love. I’m fine now.” He reassured you with a smile. You raised your eyebrows at him, pressing harder on the wound and he winced, grabbing your hand to take it away from his skin.

“Fine, huh?” You teased, bending down to grab the cane off the floor.

“Fine.” Harrison replied. As he went to take it from your hands, he noticed the cut through your jeans and the gash on your leg, running down the side of your shin. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” You insisted as if it was a simple scratch. With his cane, Harrison made his way over to his bathroom, getting out the first aid kit. You sat down on the bed, already knowing what he’d ask. He sat on the edge with you, pulling your leg over his lap.

“Did Oddjob do this to you?” He asked, moving away the torn material of your jeans to apply disinfectant to your wound. When he finally got a good look at it, he realized it wasn’t very deep and the blood hadn’t fully dried yet. “I thought you were in Havana. How is this wound so fresh?”

“Let’s just say I won’t be climbing through the window anymore.” You watched with a smile on your face as confusion crossed Harrison’s face before he was struck with realization and that signature smirk played on his lips.

“My window did this to you? Wow, 006, you’re really slipping up.” He teased, wrapping your leg with a bandage.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back your smile. “I will beat you with your cane if you tell anyone at MI6 about this.”

“Oh, will you now?” Harrison asked, pressing down onto your cut and you grimaced, just as he had earlier.You shoved his hand off you and scooted closer to him, your faces just mere inches apart.

“You’re the worst, Osterfield.” You laughed, your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips as you leaned in closer to him.

Just before your lips met his, he mumbled, “Yeah, you’re pretty insufferable yourself, Y/L/N.”

“Dickhead.” You playfully slapped his chest. Harrison just chuckled before his hand came to the back of your head, leading your lips to his. He deepened the kiss, and you shifted fully into his lap, mindful of both of your wounds.

“You’re the best partner I could’ve asked for.” He said softly, his lips barely leaving yours as he spoke.

“I know.” You smiled before continuing to kiss him. Both of you were more than content to be back in each other’s arms.

~~~

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read this series and supported me throughout it! I’m sad it has come to its end, but I hope you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I have! Lots of love, Sammy!

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @holandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series

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passionate-reply · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

On this episode of Great Albums, we explore a fabulous mini-LP by one of the most underrated stars of New Wave: Bill Nelson! (Not to be confused with the former senator of Florida.) Full transcript under the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today’s album of choice is a bit less than an album, but more than an EP--a mini-LP, if you will. It’s Bill Nelson’s Chimera, released in 1983. Chimera features six tracks, and plays at 33 ⅓ RPM, so I’m going to go ahead and count it as an album. Whatever it is, it’s certainly something great. To quote the Bard of Avon, “though she is but little, she is fierce!”

If you aren’t familiar with Bill Nelson, I, and many other enthusiasts of his work, would be quick to recommend Chimera as an ideal introduction. Its brevity and tight aesthetic focus certainly make it an accessible listen, for one thing. And for another, Chimera captured Nelson at the arguable peak of his career, while he enjoyed the unfettered creative freedom that came with releasing music on his own private record label, Cocteau Records. Nelson’s early 80s releases were all over the map: he experimented with ambient electronic music, scores for stage and screen, and the continuation of his previous work in the 70s: New Wave art rock with a substantial synthesiser component.

Music: “Flaming Desire”

Nelson’s preceding LP, 1982’s The Love That Whirls, is a mix of poppier cuts like “Flaming Desire” as well as pieces that show his more progressive, psychedelic side, like “The Crystal Escalator In the Palace of God Department Store.” Chimera leans towards the former, but it isn’t without touches of the latter, either. Its opening track, “The Real Adventure,” is dense and complex, but its soaring refrain makes it rather easy to love from the get-go.

Music: “The Real Adventure”

Side one of Chimera is dominated by these more forceful, driving pieces. All three of them were composed around drum tracks sent to Nelson by Yukihiro Takahashi, of Yellow Magic Orchestra. Nelson is one of those artists who’s consistently resisted settling down and getting too comfortable with any particular band, and the contributions of his many guest musicians add substantial character to his releases. The second track on side one, “Acceleration,” features one of Nelson’s more consistent collaborators: his younger brother, Ian Nelson, who plays the saxophone here. I think that sax lends the song a lot of its free-wheeling, liberated sense of excitement.

Music: “Acceleration”

While there were no proper singles released from Chimera, “Acceleration” did receive a dedicated 12” in 1984, and its hooky appeal certainly justifies that. On its flip side, Chimera is much more dreamy and playful, though it maintains a strong pop core. “Glow World,” the second track on side two, features the bass guitar work of Mick Karn, formerly of Japan. I like to think “Glow World” approaches the same sort of misty, beguiling exoticism that Japan had been aiming for on their final LP, 1981’s Tin Drum.

Music: “Glow World”

The bittersweet final track of Chimera, “Another Day, Another Ray of Hope,” is both a favourite of Nelson himself as well as many of his fans. As the title suggests, the lyrics encourage listeners to look ahead with optimism, but the song’s downer melody seems more grounded in a tumultuous present than a promising future. On this track, Nelson makes remarkable use of “E-Bow guitar”--that is, using a device that allows players of electric guitar to produce sounds akin to those achieved by playing an acoustic guitar with a bow. Nelson was a pioneer of this technique, and a virtuoso guitarist in general. He may be something of a guitarist’s guitarist, but his intricate solos have always been stirring to my lay ears as well.

Music: “Another Day, Another Ray of Hope”

Chimera’s cover features stills from the music video for “Flaming Desire.” Stark and mysterious, they quite clearly channel Nelson’s interest in the experimental films of the Surrealists, like Cocteau Records’ namesake, Jean Cocteau. I suppose they’re a somewhat misleading inclusion, as “Flaming Desire” doesn’t appear on the album, but they do create an atmosphere of intrigue and mystique. Its rich fuschia background is quite striking and eye-catching, and when combined with the golden text makes for an overall pleasing colour scheme.

Chimera was originally going to be titled “Sextet,” in a clear nod to its six track length, but Nelson changed it in response to the release of Quartet, the sixth LP from Ultravox, his arguable rivals in the arena of synth-rock. I actually like “Chimera” much better as a title. If nothing else, simply being more abstract and open to interpretation makes it more interesting. Chimeric beasts composed of opposing parts, such as satyrs and minotaurs, were a common theme of the Surrealists Nelson admired, and they were often used as symbols of people torn between Freudian ego and the desires of the subconscious mind. The name fits not only the way the album’s two sides pursue different themes, but also the composite nature of the individual tracks, which were mostly stitched together in the studio. On “Tender Is the Night,” for example, Nelson himself is credited with playing every single instrument we hear, from synthesisers to marimbas.

Music: “Tender Is the Night”

After Chimera, Nelson spent several years focused almost exclusively on ambient music. But he never fully lost interest in making vocal-oriented pop, and in 1986 he aimed to release another album in that vein through a major label--in this case, CBS Records. But, as is often the case, his artistic vision for the LP ended up getting sacrificed in certain markets. Its sleeve design was replaced, due to controversy over the conflation of occult symbols and Christian imagery, and its title changed from Getting the Holy Ghost Across to On a Blue Wing. Not to mention a confusing reworking of its tracklisting!

Music: “Rise Like a Fountain”

After this release, Nelson seems to have retreated back into the world of small-time publishing for good, and it’s hard to blame him. Given the choice between kowtowing to higher-ups and sticking to his own aesthetic guns, Nelson maintained that he wanted to do the latter, and it’s hard not to respect him for that. These days, you’ll find most of his latest releases on a new private label of his, “Sonoluxe.”

My favourite track on Chimera is the last one featured on side one, “Every Day Feels Like Another New Drug.” While it starts out sounding similar enough to the first two tracks, its outro blossoms into something surprisingly experimental--a cacophony of samples, showing Nelson’s remarkable willingness to lean into advancements in electronic music technology. It’s something that sets him apart from other art rockers of his day, whose electronic dabblings were often much lighter, and something that I simply enjoy the sound of a lot. That’s all for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Every Day Feels Like Another New Drug”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #new wave #bill nelson

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darks-ink · 5 years ago

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Parasite

Prompt: Plasmius is an evil ghost that has possessed Vlad since his accident. Vlad fights back as much as he can – silently apologizing to overshadowed businessmen while they share a mind, diverting malicious attention away from Jack and Maddie, and holding back against Danny long enough for him to learn Plasmius’ weaknesses – but he won’t be able to on much longer Prompt by: @sapphireswimming Word count: 4,056 Genre: Angst with happy ending

Content warning: possession, loss of control, powerlessness, self-sacrifice, dark themes

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

Plasmius, Vlad was sure, was the world’s punishment for any and all bad thoughts he had ever had. It was the harshest wake-up call imaginable… and unimaginable. Because, honestly, who could ever believe such a thing?

With the power of hindsight, Vlad had come to know, and acknowledge, that he’d been an awful human being. In college, he had constantly shunned Jack’s kindness, every attempt at friendship despite Vlad’s prickly responses. And Maddie… Oh, Maddie. He had refused to accept her interest in Jack, sure that he just had to convince her that Vlad was the better choice.

He’d been toxic, from top to bottom. That, Vlad was sure of.

It was not all that surprising, then, that this flaw of personality drew in equally toxic ghosts. Or, one ghost, specifically. A type of spectral parasite, which latched onto Vlad during the accident with the Proto Portal.

Vlad had not been in a good place, back then. He’d been in pain, horribly mutilated. Had been going through an experience no one else knew of, could sympathize or help with.

And all of that had been so much, that Vlad honestly hadn’t even realize that part of it wasn’t his newfound part ghost nature. Part of it had been a parasite, possessing him.

It had started slow. Had whispered bad thoughts into Vlad’s ear, its core pressed against Vlad’s until they were impossible to tell apart.

Had they ever truly been separate? Vlad didn’t know. Maybe not. Maybe he had only ever become half-ghost because a full ghost had possessed him.

Because that was what this was. Possession. Most people think that there is no difference between overshadowing and possession, but there is. It was just that most ghosts wouldn’t lower themselves to possession. There was no point to it, really, for most ghosts. It would allow them a foothold in the human world, yes, but it came with severe weakening. With a constant struggle to overpower the human they mingled with.

Plasmius had gotten lucky. He’d gotten his claws on Vlad just when he’d been sick, and weak, and ecto-contaminated.

And Plasmius had dug his talons in until Vlad couldn’t throw the ghost off anymore. Plasmius had integrated himself so neatly into Vlad’s very anatomy that removing him would surely kill the both of them.

The ghost had waited until Vlad was at his weakest, most inclined to listen to the venomous thoughts in his head, and then lunged. Had hard-handedly torn the steering wheel out of Vlad’s hands, pushing him into the crevices of his own mind, his own body.

At first, Vlad had let him. Plasmius wasn’t held back by any of Vlad’s weakness, his sickness, his lack of control. Plasmius wielded their ghost powers like an expert—because he was, really, an expert. Plasmius settled the ectoplasm and the flesh into their right forms, into a perfect mixture of the two, until their body was no longer wracked by sickness.

Plasmius dreamt of the things that Vlad wanted. Of getting riches, of getting revenge on those who hurt them, of getting the love they deserve.

Sometimes, Vlad wondered if he had influenced Plasmius right back. If he had carved the ghost’s mind into the same patterns as his own. Most times, however, he decided it didn’t matter. They had long surpassed the part where Vlad could influence Plasmius.

Freed from the hold of the hospital, of their sickness and weakness, Vlad had rejoiced. With Plasmius’ help, even his skin cleared up, scars fading away like nothing had ever even happened.

He’d asked, foolishly, what he could do for Plasmius to repay him for services rendered.

And Plasmius had laughed, in their shared mind space. Had cackled, sharp and vicious and unkind in every way.

“You won’t do anything, anymore,” Plasmius had told him. And after that, Vlad couldn’t remember anything.

The memories got muddled, then. Plasmius had torn control away from Vlad entirely. The only things he knew was what the ghost had accidentally slipped through into their shared space.

It was something about the way the ghost was constructed, Vlad thought. He could have his thoughts to his own, and speak to Plasmius only when he wanted to, but the ghost could not. All of Plasmius’ thoughts were direct, and easy to read.

They were the only thing Vlad knew, most of the time. He had no input from his body, from their shared body. Nothing from outside. Nothing but Plasmius’ thoughts.

So, over the years, Vlad had had a lot of time to think, and to reflect. To realize his many mistakes. To vow to do better.

Occasionally, Vlad was joined in the mind space by another mind. The first time it had startled him, but he knew what had caused it. Plasmius desired money, because money was power in the human world. But Plasmius was no businessman, had no financial smarts.

Instead, the ghost used the thing he did know: his ghostly abilities. Plasmius overshadowed businessman after businessman, forcing them to give their possessions, their riches and businesses, to Vlad. Or, more accurately, to Plasmius in Vlad’s body.

And, every time Plasmius overshadowed someone, the poor soul would gain temporary access to their mind space.

At first, Vlad apologized to every person Plasmius overshadowed. The businessmen, especially, he silently apologized to. Silently, because he didn’t want to draw Plasmius’ anger, his ire. The ghost probably couldn’t do him any harm, but the same could not be said of the people he overshadowed.

Later on, after Vlad realized what Plasmius was planning for their future, he started asking people to stop them. To stop him. He apologized first, of course, but then pressed on to point fingers at Plasmius. Begged people to please, please, inform authorities of Vlad Masters, dangerous half-ghost.

Plasmius had to be stopped, even if that came as the cost of Vlad’s life.

Nothing ever came of it. He didn’t know why. Didn’t know what to change so he could just convince someone.

Vlad Masters became a rich man. The proud owner of a Wisconsin mansion, decked out liberally in green and gold and Packers memorabilia. Plasmius, apparently, had decided that the Packers were an interest they shared.

Plasmius’ eyes started wandering back to the rest of his list of goals. Of acquiring Maddie’s love, of doing away with Jack.

And Vlad… Vlad thought back of all the scared businessmen that Plasmius had hurt. Of Maddie’s lovely smiles, and of Jack’s overly jubilant attempts at friendship.

He steered Plasmius away. To the best of his abilities, of course. He threw up distractions, made suggestions for Plasmius to pursue.

Two decades, he made it last. Two decades of holding off Plasmius, before the ghost finally decided it was time to chase down Jack and Maddie.

Twenty years was a long life, Vlad had consoled himself. And he peeked in on Plasmius’ vicious plans, and suggested, meekly, a college reunion.

The invites were sent out in Vlad’s name, of course. Two of them went to a little town by the name of Amity Park, addressed to Jack and Maddie Fenton. Plasmius had been beyond anger, but Vlad…

Vlad was glad. He was happy that those two had found support and love in each other. That they hadn’t been driven apart by his own accident.

Plasmius was still gunning for Jack, Vlad knew. Was sending all matter of ghosts after the man, yet none of them had succeeded. The few that dared to return to the mansion explained that another ghost had stopped them.

This, Vlad realized, was driving Plasmius crazy. The ghost decided, apparently, that he would just do the job himself.

See, Vlad had steered Plasmius towards a college reunion in the hopes that the ghost wouldn’t be crazy enough to murder Jack Fenton with so many witnesses. Now, he had started to worry that that might not be the case.

He had still been busy wondering if Jack and Maddie had held onto their interest in ghost hunting when Plasmius got agitated all over again. The ghost that had thwarted Plasmius’ attempts at killing Jack in Amity had come along.

Danny Phantom. The half-ghost son of Jack and Maddie Fenton.

Plasmius had tacked another goal onto his to-do list. To kill Jack, to acquire Maddie’s love, and to destroy Danny.

“Why not recruit him?” Vlad had asked, foolishly. “Isn’t he like us/you?”

This, apparently, had been the wrong thing to say. Plasmius had gotten even more agitated.

As it turned out, little Danny Fenton-Phantom was an actual half-ghost. They were a thing of legend, something that no one thought could exist. Plasmius had designed their shared body with this in mind. No one would be able to tell that Vlad was possessed, because they would be unaware of what was normal for a half-ghost like them.

Danny, however, would know. Or would lead others to know.

So the boy had to be destroyed, lest anyone else figure out what was wrong with Vlad.

And Vlad had looked at this teenager, this boy barely fourteen years old, and prayed for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

He had started pushing. Prodding Plasmius into lashing out, into making more and more vicious plans, in revealing his hand. And, simultaneously, in coaxing Danny to find their weaknesses. Steering the boy into knowing what Plasmius could do, and how to take him down.

Danny had to know that Vlad Masters—Vlad Plasmius, apparently—was trying to kill him. All Vlad needed for him was to get too fed up, go too far.

To end it. Before Plasmius could do worse.

---

Plasmius had another plan to take out Danny. Daniel, the ghost insisted on calling him. Plasmius had never been very good at respecting other people’s desires.

Vlad no longer wondered where that came from, either.

But his strength was waning. His ability to influence Plasmius lessened and lessened.

Which is why they were in the Fentons’ lab, now. They were fighting, Vlad thought, but he had no way to really know. Plasmius had locked him out of his own body twenty years ago, and had never let up.

So when Vlad suddenly thudded against a hard floor, cold against his bare hands, staring up at a blue face with blank red eyes and fangs, well.

He might’ve screamed.

A bolt of green knocked the ghost away from him, and it—he, something in Vlad’s mind told him this was Plasmius—snarled.

“Oh no you don’t!” a youthful voice yelled. Vlad didn’t look at the source, too busy taking in the ghost that had inhabited his body for all those years.

Pallid blue skin, only visible on the face and part of the neck. The eyes were entirely red, with no way to distinguish sclera from iris from pupil. Black hair, swept strangely in the shape of horns, and a matching black goatee. Pointed ears, and overlong fangs, which the ghost bared at either Vlad or whoever had yelled.

The clothing was a strange mix of vampire-like and lab clothes. Mostly white, the shirt tunic-like but with a tight shiny collar and gloves. A big cape, though, flaring out and red on the inside.

Plasmius snarled again, and Vlad could see, now, that his fingers were sharp like claws.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” the voice behind Vlad decided, and another bolt of green blasted against Plasmius.

Naturally, this only riled the ghost up more. He pushed himself up, lunging forward at Vlad.

A blue vortex caught him before he made it all the way, and the ghost was sucked up. Vlad followed the stream, repressing his surprise at the fact that his body let him, and saw…

Well, it must be Danny Fenton-Phantom. Just a boy, dressed in a black jumpsuit that reminded Vlad of the ones Jack always liked so much. Messy hair, an unnatural white, and glowing green eyes.

“Seriously, Vlad, what’s wrong with this guy?” Danny asked him, shaking the device that Plasmius had been sucked into. “I thought that taking you through the Ghost Catcher would help me understand you better, but this just made me more confused.”

Vlad blinked at him. “The… huh?”

“The Ghost Catcher,” Danny repeated, like that was the only part that could’ve confused Vlad. He gestured next to him, at a giant dreamcatcher-like invention. Its net glowed an eerie ectoplasmic green.

Yeah, that looked like something Jack might put together.

“What did… How did…?”

“You are seriously out of it,” Danny commented, frowning at him. “Your ghost half was all snarly, so I figured you were the smart half, but now I’m starting to doubt that.”

Danny had separated them, somehow. For twenty years, Vlad had thought that that would be impossible. From the moment Plasmius rewrote his body to be half human and half ghost, he thought it would’ve killed them both.

“How?” he asked again. He had to know. Could they destroy Plasmius, did he have the time—the strength—to do it himself?

“The Ghost Catcher.” Danny shook his head, watched as Vlad pushed himself into a sitting position. “It takes all the ectoplasm out of your system. When I went through it I got two distinct personalities, so I figured I would try it with you, but…”

Danny trailed off, then shrugged. “You’re not as mean as before, though, so I guess your feral half took that.”

“It was always his to begin with,” Vlad scoffed. He tried standing up, but wobbled precariously. Danny caught him by the arm before he fell, though.

“Well, yeah, I guess most of your anger came from the accident that made you a half-ghost, but—”

“No,” Vlad interrupted him. “The accident didn’t make me half-ghost. He did.”

Danny rolled his eyes, dropping Vlad’s arm. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You always blame my dad for it.”

“That’s not what I was saying at all.” Vlad shook his head, but let his eyes wander back to the… what did Danny call it? The Ghost Catcher? “The accident with the Proto Portal didn’t make me half-ghost either. Not directly, at least. I’ve got myself to blame at least as much as your parents.”

“Oh, uh.” Danny blinked at him, apparently surprised at the admission. “I mean, I guess that the Portal gave you Ecto Acne, and then that made you—”

“Plasmius made me half-ghost.” Vlad tore his eyes off of the miraculous invention, back towards Danny. Back towards the device in his hand that held Plasmius. “We need to destroy him, before he gets out.”

“Woah, woah.” Danny held up his hands. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it? I mean, my two halves didn’t like each other that much either, but—”

“You don’t get it, Danny!” Vlad snapped. His heart thumped in his chest, blood roaring through his ears. Sensations he’d missed for twenty years while Plasmius paraded his body around. “You’re a real half-ghost. I never was. I was human, and Plasmius was the ghost who possessed me. Why do you think he wanted you gone so badly?”

The boy stared at him, so still that Vlad wondered if he still had to breathe in his ghost form.

“You… called me Danny,” he finally said, quietly.

Vlad resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air. “Yes,” he snapped, then stamped down his anger as well. He could be angry later, when Plasmius was gone for good.

“Yes,” he repeated, more calmly. “I’ve been referring to you as Danny the whole time, since you’ve said that that was your name. I… I have had a lot of time to think. To realize the mistakes I’ve made in my life.” To repent, he thought, but didn’t say. To realize that he’d been so terrible that no one saw the difference between him and Plasmius.

“I… I don’t know if you can live without your ghost half,” Danny said, eventually, reluctantly. “If you’ve been half-ghost for twenty years, like Plasmius always said…”

“I don’t care. If I die… so be it.” Vlad ran a hand through his hair, startled to find it tied back into a ponytail. At least Plasmius had kept their hair long, he supposed. “He has been puppeteering my body for twenty years, Danny. The only things I knew for twenty years were his thoughts, and his thoughts only. I had no control, could only make suggestions, and he’s been getting harder and harder to influence as time moved on.”

“That’s why he always held back.” Danny’s eyes grew wide. “I wondered about that. Why you—he, whatever—never used the full power of twenty years of experience. You held him back.”

Vlad nodded. “I wanted you to figure out his weaknesses. To grow strong enough to… to put an end to it.”

“You wanted me to kill you. Both of you,” Danny realized, his voice dropping.

“It would’ve been a bad thing to put on you,” Vlad agreed. “But the alternative would’ve been worse. Plasmius… he couldn’t be stopped. For twenty years, I derailed him into focusing on wealth, on acquiring power, but he finally set himself on his original goals. He would’ve killed Jack, would’ve found a way, no matter how despicable, to make Maddie his own. When he found you, a real half-ghost, he added your destruction to your list. And once he had achieved all those goals?” Vlad scoffed. “It would’ve been awful. Plasmius has no compassion, no caring.”

“So you wanted me to kill you? To put blood on the hands of a fourteen year old?”

“Better to hurt one teenager than to kill dozens. Or more, perhaps.” Vlad shook his head. “Even if it was the wrong thing to do, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve found a solution to split him off without shedding any blood. Now we just need to destroy him, permanently.”

Danny’s hands tightened around the tube-like device. “I— I can’t. I’m not gonna kill some ghost just based on— I can’t just kill some ghost.”

“Then give me some kind of invention from your parents and I’ll do it myself.” Vlad drew back his shoulders. “He needs to be gone, Danny. I’ve lost twenty years of my life to him. He has hurt countless people, and would hurt far more. Will hurt many more, if you let him out.”

The boy shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. He can stay in the Thermos.”

“Sooner or later he’ll break out of that,” Vlad insisted. He couldn’t… couldn’t risk that. Never again. “Or someone will release him.”

“I’ll bury it.” Danny met Vlad’s gaze. Stubborn to no end. Not very surprising, Vlad supposed, knowing the boy’s parents. Both Jack and Maddie were not known for giving up.

“It’ll get dug up.” Vlad stared at Danny, tried to will him into understanding. “Danny. I know you don’t like this. It’s a cruel thing to ask of a boy your age. To ask of anyone, really. Give me the… the Thermos, and your parents and I can take care of it. They’re still ghost hunters, aren’t they?”

“I…” He bit his lip, looking down at the Thermos in his hands. “I… I don’t think that that’s a good idea. They think that all ghosts are like that. This will just be— be proof that I don’t want them to have. They’ll think that all half-ghosts are like that.”

“That I’m like that” went unsaid, but Vlad heard it anyway.

“They don’t have to know that Plasmius possessed me all this time,” Vlad insisted. He needed the ghost destroyed. It had to happen, no matter what. “I just need him gone, Danny. I need to know that he will never hurt anyone ever again.”

“I just… I can’t let that happen.” Danny shook his head, slowly moving his arm until the Thermos clipped onto his belt. “He’ll add to my parents’ proof of how bad ghosts are, and even if I let you three deal with him… What’s stopping him from just possessing you again? Or one of my parents?”

Danny shook his head again, the movement sharper, jerkier. “I… I’ve dealt with bad ghosts like him before. That one, I left locked in a Thermos at Clockwork’s tower. I’ll do that with Plasmius too.”

“In the Ghost Zone?” It was not ideal, but… the Thermos would not decay in the Zone, and no ghost would be crazy enough to mess with such a device. And even if Plasmius broke out, it would take forever for him to get back.

“Yeah. Is that a good compromise?”

Vlad nodded, reluctantly. “As good as we’ll get, I think.” He paused, looking around the lab. “Excuse me for asking another thing of you, Danny, but… I’m afraid that I have no explanation for your parents as to why I’m in their lab.”

“Right, yeah.” He shot Vlad a suspicious look. “This isn’t a plot to steal the Thermos from me, is it?”

“I promise to you, it is not.” He placed a hand against his chest and realized, belatedly, that he was wearing a suit. Since when did he wear suits? What was Plasmius thinking? “Bind my hands if you must.”

“Alright, no need to go so far.” Danny rolled his eyes, walking closer to Vlad. “If I get you to the street, will you manage from there?”

Vlad patted his pocket, feeling a hard shape. He took it out to reveal…

“You have a phone, good.” Danny nodded. “You can call for a cab and take your private plane back to Wisconsin, or however you got here. How did you get here?”

“Bold of you to presume I know.” Vlad sighed, placing the phone back into his pocket. “I might just… take a walk, first. It has been a long time since I could.”

Danny threw him a heavy look. “Yeah. Of course. I won’t stop you.”

“And I…” Vlad paused. “I would like to reacquaint myself with your parents. I know that, between my behavior in my youth, and Plasmius’ behavior in more recent times, I don’t deserve that, but… I have learned my lesson a long time ago.”

This, Danny needed time to process. “You’re… not after my mom anymore?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Vlad assured him. “When Plasmius sent out the invites, I caught wind of their marriage. I was… very glad. It was wrong of me to ever continue to pursue Maddie, when she clearly had no interest in me.”

“Then you’re welcome back, I guess.” Danny reached for him, and Vlad let him. Let the boy wrap his cool hands around Vlad’s arms. “I’ll let Jazz know not to get too harsh on you, but I can’t do anything for my mom.”

“Ah. Yes, a Maddie scorned is a Maddie to fear.” Vlad nodded understandingly. “Jack… Jack, I am sorry to say, I never appreciated as I should’ve. I would be glad to accept his offer of friendship this time around.”

Danny lifted him with ease, like gravity suddenly stopped having an effect on Vlad. “Yes, I… I am sure that Dad would love that. And if you try, Mom will see that, too. It’ll be…”

“I’ll do my best,” Vlad promised, after Danny had remained silent.

The boy nodded, then lifted up further. Phased them straight through the ceiling, which led them into the upstairs living room, and then through the wall. Carried Vlad a little further, until they were out of sight from the house.

“I’ll let you wander around first, then.” Danny put him down, surprisingly gently. “Come by whenever you’re ready, Vladdie.”

Vlad smiled back at Danny, feeling something warm and hopeful bloom in his chest. “I will, my boy. And… thank you. For your help with all this. For allowing me to finally be my own person, away from Plasmius. I didn’t— didn’t think it would ever happen.”

“Glad to be of service, then.” Danny bowed, deep, but rose with a smile on his face. “I’ll get this Thermos hidden away somewhere where no one will find it for the next eternity. Have a nice day, Vlad!”

“Yes, you too, Danny Phantom.” Vlad felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. Danny waved, then promptly disappeared from sight.

Vlad waited for another moment. Felt the mild wind breeze past him, tug on his long hair and his suit jacket.

It was good to be alive.

#phic phight #phic phight 2020 #phic phight 20 #danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #danny fenton #dark writes #me? living up to my name? writing angst? shocking

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captialrogers · 5 years ago

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Esoteric Lullabies (part 2)

Summary: For [y/n], the majority of her life has been a blur; from the death of her parents to her years spent in the foster system. Nothing in her life has been consistent. That was until she was taken in by a strange boarding house and turned into a glorified cat burglar.

When an easy mission goes south and [y/n] has a chance encounter with a team of former S.H.I.E.L.D agents, she decided to run from her employers. However, this decision turns deadly when — after a year of hiding — she discovers that not all secrets stay buried in the rubble and some melodies are just too addictive to not listen to.

Warnings: Female reader, dark themes, death, decay, spooky places, ghost, injury

Word Count: 1,570

Genre: AU, Mystery, Adventure, Thriller

Pairing: Bucky x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Playlist / Marvel Masterlist / Character Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 |

On a scale of 1 to 10, this place was a solid 15. It wasn’t the worst place she had ever been, but it certainly wasn’t the best. Natasha licked her lips as she expertly waded through the various hallways filled with debris. “Find anything yet?” She asked, briefly touching the communication device in her ear.

There was a crackle of static before the person on the other end responded, “Nothing yet, but they could have at least cleaned up a bit before inviting us to visit.” Her partner joked.

The redhead grimaced and continued to make her way deeper into the abandoned facility. “Let me know if anything comes up.”

“You bet your ass I will.”

It was a wonder that Natasha could see anything in the debris. Even with her ingrained skill set, the spy had to really concentrate on her surroundings. In fact, she would have missed the well hidden corridor if it hadn’t been for the fresh tracks leading down it. “I think I found something, Barton. I’ll keep you posted.” Hand inches from her gun, the black widow quickly and quietly made her way down the hallway. As she walked further into the building, the amount of decay seemed to lessen. It made her think that, perhaps this section was kept in operation long after the front of the facility fell into ruin.

Coming to a set of stairs, Natasha continues to follow the foot prints up and into a large room. Without hesitation, the woman stepped over a body, long forgotten by both time and people.

Once into the room, the redhead took stock of her surroundings. She was exactly where she needed to be. Records. “Found the objective.” The static that sounded through the comm piece became background noise as Natasha scoured the room for anything that could be of use. It wasn’t until Clint’s voice rang out from behind her did she snap out of her trance.

“Uh, Nat? I hope to god that’s you and not some man eating science experiment.”

Confused, the spy spun around, looking for her partner. When she couldn’t see him, she walked towards the direction of his voice. “Clint, where are you?” The woman stopped just in time to see a gaping hole in the concrete and the body of a woman impaled on rods of steel, blood still oozing from her mangled body. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah you’re telling me.” From the side of the injured woman, Clint starred up at the spy, blue eyes wide and full of shock. “Do you think she’s alive?”

As if to answer his question, the body before them jerked and sputtered blood. “I’d take that as a yes. Come on, we need to secure her.”

“What do you mean, Nat? Clearly she’s done for. Can’t we just get the hell outta dodge? This place gives me the willies.” She gave the man a look and unhooked a climbing hook from her belt. “You’re right. I’m being a wuss.”

She descended gracefully and landed over the woman. With her feet planted firmly on either side of the body, Natasha bent down, checking for a pulse. “Pulse is weak, but if we call for medi-evac she should make it.” Without a second thought, the redhead did just that. “Now help me secure her wounds.”

——

They had run her prints on the way back to HQ but couldn’t find anything. As far as the system knew, this woman was a ghost. In a twisted turn of events, it could have been Natasha laying at the bottom of that hole. No one to come looking for her. It was that thought alone that made the widow glad that they stumbled upon her. No one deserved to die alone. She stood outside of the operating room, watching as skilled surgeons worked to repair the torn body woman’s body. Natasha couldn’t leave this woman, she felt a kinship to her — one phantom to another.

“Lucky you found her when you did.”

Natasha couldn’t take her eyes from the scene in front of her. “They said she’ll make it.”

“What made you save her? And don’t give me that ‘red ledger’ crap.” Steve had a way of knowing the things she tried to keep hidden.

“She could have been me, when I still worked… Before Clint found me.” The redhead crossed her arms over her chest.

“So you saw yourself laying there.”

Natasha didn’t answer. Instead, she changed the subject. “Did you find anything in the documents? That place looked like hell, Steve.”

“Bits and pieces, but nothing substantial. What do you think she was doing there? Looking for the same information?”

She didn’t know and so the spy shrugged, the weight of a small object burning a small hole in the pocket of her jacket. When the mysterious woman woke, Natasha would be the first to find out.

—-

The pain in her side had subsided but the pounding in her head continued at full force. The alluring song of the music box swirled around her mind ceasing any and all thoughts she might have had. [y/n] knew this melody, but from where? Where did she know it from? Where?! She tried to lift her hand to ease the ache forming between her brows. But she couldn’t. Her limbs were too heavy to move.

It wouldn’t stop. The sound so familiar that it seemed unsettling. It was on constant replay. Like someone was intentionally playing it. She tried to get it to stop. To push it out of her mind, but it was no use. [y/n] was cursed to hear it for all eternity.

Light flashed behind her eyes and suddenly she was awake. She stared at the white ceiling above her and blinked slowly, trying to refocus. Where was she? It smelled of antiseptic and bleach which could only mean one thing. She was in a hospital. The moment the woman realized this, she began to panic. The fear of medical personnel — anything medical really — had always been there. With no explanation. She was sure nothing had happened to cause the fear, but there it was. As ugly as always.

She wanted to scream. To thrash. To pull the tubes and wires from her body. To stop the high pitched beep of the machines telling her that she was alive.

“Easy there.” A voice said from beside her. “You just had major surgery. Damn near bled out on the table.” A woman’s voice; steady and calming.

“Where–“ It came out as more of a whisper than she would have liked. [y/n]’s throat hurt and her mouth was dry. She needed water.

Holding a straw to her lips, the red haired woman urged her to drink. When [y/n] refused, Natasha remained where she was. “Look, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know as soon as you drink something.” She hated bargaining. It was useless and someone always refused to deliver their part of the deal. But something told the spy that this woman would see it through. Which she did. Three long sips later the cup was empty and Natasha was sitting back in her chair waiting for the first of many questions.

“Where am I?” her voice was still half its usual volume, but at least it didn’t hurt to speak.

“In a recovery room. As I said before, you were pretty much dead.”

“That’s not—. Who are you?” [y/n] shifted slightly, pain shooting through her abdomen. She hissed.

“That doesn’t matter. I have a few questions of my own to ask, so if that’s everything you’d like to know…”

“Who do you work for?” The question was no question at all. It was a demand. Did this redhead woman work for her mysterious employers? Did they come to fulfill their threats? If they did, why didn’t they leave her to die? “Why did you rescue me?”

Natasha held back an irritated sigh. “All you need to know is that you’re safe. Who ever it is that you’re worried about can’t find you here.”

So you think. They have eyes everywhere. No where is safe. [y/n] didn’t say this out loud, instead she closed her eyes and sighed. “What do you want to know?”

Finally, Natasha would get what she wanted. “Why were you at the Re-Genesis facility?”

“I was looking for something.” She could be vague too. If the other woman wasn’t willing to actually answer her questions then neither was she.

“This?” Natasha pulled the small music box from her jacket pocket and held it just out of reach. [y/n] looked at the object with a mixture of fear and anger. “What does it have to do with Re-Genesis?”

“I don’t know.” She wanted it back. Wanted to feel the weight of it in her hand. The redhead tossed the music box into the air before catching it. [y/n]’s stomach lurched at the thought of the other woman dropping the object. “I’m telling you the truth, okay? I don’t know anything about the facility. I was hired to get in, get what they needed and get out as fast as I could.” She licked her lips and watched as the woman placed the item back into her pocket.

“Who?” Natasha leaned closer, placing her arms on her thighs. “Who hired you?”

“I don’t know. I never have.”

Well. The Black Widow thought, Things are about to get interesting.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #winter solider x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes x remale reader #Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!reader #tw: injury #tw: hospital #natasha romanov #clint barton

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alekinairene · 5 years ago

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Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Natasha x Reader

@barnesrogersvstheworld

I'm sorry that this is so late. Honestly, I was hesitant to post it as this is my first time writing fanfic for Natasha, and it has some very dark themes.

There is canon type violence, and trigger warning for reader death.

Thank you for reading, I hope you like it.

~~~

The mission was going horribly. What was supposed to be a quick in-and-out was falling into mayhem. You had walked into an ambush with no reinforcements available. Natasha and you had fought hard, luckily incurring only minor injuries. Finally, stillness fell in the long-abandoned warehouse. You were both alive, but the Hydra agent you had been after had escaped, taking the flash drive of sensitive information with him. The mission was completely failed.

The warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, in a near-ghost town. No one was around for a few miles, making it a perfect handoff zone for the enemy. Natasha had already radioed the others to tell them to go after the escaped Hydra agent, saying that you would be able to make it back to civilization on your own. Soon after, a rogue agent had shot the radio, leaving them without a way to contact the others. You were effectively stranded. You took your losses and began to walk out of the town.

Natasha was deathly quiet, frustrated by the day’s failure. You were both upset – anyone on your team would have been – but Natasha took it harder than most. She had not been trained for failures. The only sound was the crunch of gravel under your boots.

You felt it almost the instant you heard the shot ring out. Pain ripped through your back and torso, splattering the ground in front of you with a shower of blood. You were blinded by the pain as you fell to the ground. You faintly recognized the dull thud of a body hitting the ground after Natasha fired her gun. Then you listened to the echoey sound of her footfalls as she ran back to your side. Frantic, she turned you over, biting her lip as she scanned your body.

You slowly reached your hand up to your abdomen, wincing slightly as your hand came to rest on torn fabric and something squishy and wet. When you lifted your hand, it was covered in blood and bits of tissue. Natasha’s face was drained of color.

“How bad?” you whispered, pulling her gaze from your wound to your face.

“Bad,” she answered, an unusual tone to her voice. “There’s a lot of blood.”

“I can’t feel my legs.” “I-I think it hit your spine,” she answered, searching your face.

“I’m not getting out of here, Nat,” you said, coughing. She tugged off her jacket, tying it firmly around you in effort to slow the bleeding, and, frankly, to hold you together.

“I can carry you,” she said, attempting to lift you into her arms. She stopped abruptly when you cried out in pain.

“No, Nat,” your words were halted by another violent cough. When you wiped your mouth, a smear of blood was left on your hand. “It’s over.” The stoniness of her face began to soften at your sad smile, her defenses crumbling.

“Y/N, please, I have to try.” You didn’t answer her, instead your eyes loosely focused on the sky.

“Nat?” “Yes?” “Are you afraid of the dark?” Your breathing was beginning to slow. Natasha let out the air she hadn’t realized she was holding, the sound somewhere between a scoff and a sob.

“I don’t think so. I’m not too sure about anything anymore,” she answered, turning her face away so that she could wipe her tears away without you seeing her cry.

“The darkness isn’t scary, Nat,” you said, voice strained. “It feels good. I want to go there.”

“Please don’t give up, Y/N.” Her fingers dug into your shoulders, but you barely felt them. She was becoming more frantic, cursing herself for losing their only radio.

“I’m cold, Nat,” you whispered, your voice beginning to drop. The pool of blood surrounding you had grown large. Nat tentatively reached her hand underneath the makeshift bandage. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle now. She put her arms around you, pulling you into her lap and rocking you.

“I – Nat?” you asked, voice trembling.

“Yes?”

“I never said it before. I couldn’t risk losing you. But – well –” you coughed raggedly. “I love you.” Natasha held you tighter, no longer hiding the tears running down her cheeks.

“I love you, too, Y/N.” She leaned down to kiss your forehead. You weakly tried to lift your face to hers, and, when you were unable, she gently cupped your cheek in her hand and gently kissed your lips.

Your breathing was growing erratic, and she buried her face in your hair, humming a Russian lullaby. Finally, when she checked your breathing, it was still. She gently picked up your body and carried you.

When she arrived at Stark Tower in a stolen car, everyone came running out to meet her, questions about what happened flying at her. She ignored them all. She didn’t say a word to anyone, but pulled your lifeless body from the backseat. She carefully placed you in Tony’s arms.

“Take care of her for me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Please.”

The silence was tangible as they watched her walk away. One thing kept ringing in her head.

Nat, are you afraid of the dark?

#AYAOTDchallenge #major character death #marvel #black widow #im so sorry this is horribly late #natasha x reader

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drsilverfish · 6 years ago

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Dean’s Jungian Shadow Arc in S14 - Confronting the Internal Father (2x22 to 14x20)

“This meeting with oneself is, at first, the meeting with one’s own shadow. The shadow is a tight passage, a narrow door, whose painful constriction no one is spared who goes down to the deep well. But one must learn to know oneself in order to know who one is”

(Jung, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious 1991: p21)

Jung believed that the psyche was composed, in part, of a relation to “archetypes” (shared human psychic formations). One of these is the archetype of the father.

He distinguishes between the actual father (i.e. your Dad) and the “imago” of the father (a term he borrowed from Freud). That means, the psychological internalised construct of the father, which partly resides in the unconscious, and which is not identical to your real Dad, because it’s about your childish and foundational perception of them, but, also, for Jung (not Freud) it is linked to the archetypal (or mythic) father. The father archetype (for Jung, who has a gendered perception of the world rooted in his time-period) is about power and control. And when someone subconsciously over-identifies with the father-archetype, this results in out-of-control power fantasies:

"The danger is just this unconscious identity with the archetype, the more a father identifies with the archetype, the more unconscious and irresponsible, indeed psychotic ... he ... will be"

(Jung, 1906-1916 writings collected as Freud and Psychoanalysis: 1961:p316).

So, subconsciously over-identifying with the father-imago has negative consequences for a person, and those around them.

Let’s talk Dean, The Shadow and Dean’s Daddy Issues.

Remember this? (Gods but the colour palette was gorgeous back then).

This is Dean shooting Azazel, the yellow-eyed demon who killed his mother, Mary Winchester, with the Colt in 2x22 All Hell Breaks Loose Part II.

He does it with his father, John Winchester’s spirit’s help (released from Hell):

But, when I say help, remember that, symbolically, John has also been mirrored to Azazel, by means of Azazel’s possession of John (1x22 Devil’s Trap):

Hooboy - Daddy issues right out of the gate. That’s not news to any of us. The whole show is about “wayward sons”, after all.

Fast foward twelve years, and this is Dean (in the role of The FatherTM) almost shooting Jack, his own adopted Nephilim son (who also represents his child-self) with the Hammurabi, the mystical gun Mark II, which Chuck forged and named after an ancient Babylonian law which codifies “an eye for an eye” (i.e. a “Revenge Gun”TM):

Jack the Nephilim, whose eyes glow yellow when he is in his power, and who has (apparently) killed Mary Winchester (again):

(Jack in 13x14 Good Intentions)

Notice that both scenarios - Dean, mystical gun, yellow-eyed supernatural being who killed his mother - take place in a graveyard.

Mary is dead twice (at least as far as Dean is concerned) and her death haunts the scenes.

Chuck has deliberately set up the second scenario to mirror the first (he is, in my view, testing Dean, the way he tested Abraham).

At this moment, in Moriah, we could say Dean is possessed by his Shadow, in the form of the father archetype, the Ghost of John Winchester, in his subconsious. He is ready to act out John Winchester’s revenge quest redux, and in doing so, to do violence all over again to his child-self, in the form of Jack, who symbolises child-Dean in this moment.

A repetition of the damage done to Dean himself as a child; who was forced, by the tragedy of Mary’s death, and his own father’s traumatic revenge-quest, to grow up too fast, is playing out before our eyes.

Jack-the-mirror, who lost his own mother at birth, and looks twenty-something but is only two, kneels, a willing sacrifice, in the role of child-Dean, before his father, adult-Dean, who is shadow-possessed by John’s Ghost, ready to be murdered, just as John “murdered” Dean’s childhood.

“The psychological rule says that when an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside as fate. That is to say, when the individual remains undivided and does not become conscious of his inner opposite, the world must perforce act out the conflict and be torn into opposing halves.”

(Carl Jung, Collected Works “Christ: A Symbol of the Self”).

Jung suggests we are subject to “fate” (i.e. our own unconscious forces taking control of our actions) when we do not confront our Shadow.

Ties in beautifully to Supernatural’s larger theme of fate vs free will, right?

Now, back then, when Dean shot yellow-eyed demon No 1, Azazel, Dean was (as his subconscious taunted him at the time) “Daddy’s blunt little instrument” (3x10 Dream a Little Dream of Me)....

Back then, Dean obeyed his father and called him “Sir”, “...following Dad’s orders like a good little soldier” (Sam in 1x10 Asylum). Sammy was the rebellious one.

When Dean stood up to his Dad, it wasn’t for himself, it was to protect Sam:

(1x20 Dead Man’s Blood).

Dean’s obedience was linked to his angel-engineered role as the Michael vessel (God’s obedient son) whilst Sam’s rebelliousness was linked to his equally engineered role as the Lucifer vessel (God’s rebellious son).

They ripped up that script and wrote their own ending in 5x22 Swan Song, but, while Sam said “Yes” to Lucifer (his Shadow-self) and beat the Devil, Dean said “No” to Michael.

S14 is the season in which Dean, having said “Yes” to AU!Michael in order to beat Lucfier (again) in 13x23 Let the Good Times Roll, undertakes his own Shadow-work.

Dabb’s Ouroboros narrative is in full swing.

Back then, John’s revenge quest, to get the yellow-eyed demon who killed Mary Winchester, became Dean’s mission too. He internalised it (even before he knew about Azazel). Sam wanted to get out of hunting, Dean was driven to follow in his father’s footsteps (whatever his real feelings and desires were, he buried them to follow the “family business”).

Here is Young!Dean in Bad Boys (9x07) looking out of the window at Young!Sam in the Impala, about to give up his happiness at Sonny’s and his young love with Robin in order to put his Dad’s way of life (hunting/ revenge), and his brother (who needs him) first:

One way a child deals with a parent who is hurting them is to want to become them, to idolise them and to believe that they’re right (Dad’s car, Dad’s music, Dad’s machismo, Dad’s heterosexuality, Dad’s way of drinking and squashing down emotion).

DEAN: “We have the coolest Dad in the world. He’s a superhero.” (3x08 A Very Supernatural Christmas).

Jung would say Dean internalised a strong identification (partly conscious, partly unconscious) with the father imago.

Dean’s been on a long, long journey to get out from under his father’s shadow. We’ve seen that struggle over many seasons.

AU!Michael in Dean’s head in S14 represented the repressive ghost of John Winchester embodied as a destructive archangel in Dean’s mind, i.e. serious crunch time for Dean’s psyche - things coming to a real crisis point for him, psychologically.

Dark!Kaia makes the parallel in 14x03 The Scar (just hear “John Winchester” for “him”):

KAIA: “You’re no different from him. Threats, violence anything to get what you want.” DEAN: “I am nothing like him.” KAIA: “Yeah you are: you always have been!”

You can read some of my previous meta on Dean’s struggle with AU!Michael as his repression/ the Ghost of John Winchester here (which also emphasises that one aspect of John’s repression of Dean is, in subtext, the repression of Dean’s queerness):

Queer Gods and Monsters (14x02)

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/179226151009/queer-gods-and-monsters-14x02

14x03 The Scar - Dean Confronts Dark!Kaia (Dopplegangers, Mirrors and John Winchester’s Ghost)

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/179463975289/shirtlesssammy-14x03the-scar-meta-writers

AU!Michael and the Closet (14x10 Nihilism)

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182120562849/aumichael-and-the-closet

Jung and Dean’s Journey Towards Self-Integration in 14x11 Damaged Goods

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182299438269/jung-and-deans-journey-towards-self-integration

In 14x02 we get this shot of Dean facing his mirror-self, AU!Michael, and Michael tells him, “I own you!”

In 14x10, Dean, desperate to contain AU!Michael, manages (with Sam and Cas’ help) to lock him in a fridge-locker in his own mind:

And he says, “I am the cage!”

Dean then builds a Ma’lak box and intends to lock himself in it and throw himself (and AU!Michael with him) to the bottom of the ocean. Yikes. At the start of 14x12 Prophet and Loss, he dreams that he is alone, and terrified, in that very box:

Sam says to him about this plan (14x12 Prophet and Loss): “But what you’re talking about is far worse than death. Michael’s an archangel. He could literally keep you buried in a coffin, alive, forever.”

Remember Dean also described his possession by AU!Michael as like “drowning” over and over (14x03 The Scar):

DEAN: “I don’t remember most of what Michael did with me because I was under water. Drowning. And that I remember. I felt every second of it - clawing, fighting for air. I thought I could make it out but I couldn’t: I wasn’t strong enough.”

Now hear what is happening, psychologically...

Dean’s subconscious, his Shadow-self (aka AU!Michael representing the Ghost of John Winchester) i.e. Dean’s own self-repression and over-control, both inherited from John’s impact on him, is saying to Dean “I own you” and “I am the cage”, you will be buried in a coffin, alive, with me forever. You are under water and you can’t make it out.

That’s pretty scary right? Dean is trapped by himself (by the traumatic internalised impact of his past and his consequent over-identification with his father).

If this were IRL, we’d have given Dean the name of a good therapist, a long time ago. But it’s Supernatural, so instead Dean gets to confront the ghost of his father, John Winchester, in the flesh, in 14x13 Lebanon. He wishes on the magic pearl to get “Michael out of my friggin’ head” and lo and behold John Winchester magically appears before him (cemeting the symbolism of AU!Michael in Dean’s head representing/ mirroring John Winchester).

Dean gets to hear his Dad say, “You are a grown man and I am incredibly proud of you.” Dean gets to say to Sam, that he wouldn’t change anything: “I’m good with who I am. I’m good with who you are. ‘Cause our lives – they’re ours.”

He gets to tell his father he “has a family”, not a conventional one - “an angel and Lucifer’s kid”, but it’s good:

An Angel, and Lucifer’s Kid? Queer-Coding and Dean’s “Found Family” in 14x13 Lebanon

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182794294534/an-angel-and-lucifers-kid-queer-coding-and

And he gets to choose to let his Dad go, with love. What beautiful psychological progress, huh? AU!Michael is out of his head and so is the controlling Ghost of his Father, replaced by a loving one!

But, it’s not that simple. When the pearl is destroyed, time is reset and AU!Michael is still installed in Dean’s noggin. It’s only when Dean and Cas have been whammied by the Queer Gorgon, that AU!Michael (Dean’s repression, remember) finally gets out of his mind (14x14 Ouroboros):

The Kiss of the Queer Gorgon in 14x14 Ouroboros

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/183323000224/the-kiss-of-the-queer-gorgon-in-14x14-ouroboros

Jack (Dean’s child-self mirror) kills AU!Michael (John’s repressive ghost mirror) but, the burden is great and the cost is (at least part of) his soul.

Moreover, when Mary is subsequently “killed” by Jack (you all know by now I have a theory she’s been fake re-fridged, and she’s actually been blasted into an AU, and we’ll see her again), Dean regresses. He goes back into uber-controlling mode, over-responsible mode, as a way of dealing with the fact his world has fallen apart again. Psychically (as many of you clever people have already pointed out) he’s been taken back to the trauma his 4 year old self experienced when Mary died the first time.

So, Dean puts on his control-mask, the one he learned from his Dad, and (just like John did) he focusses on dealing with the yellow-eyed “monster” who killed Mary, to contain the pain. He refuses to listen to Sam or Cas. He tells them to get on board with his (suicidal again) plan or get lost. HE is the one who instigates locking Jack (remember, also a representation of his child-self) in the Ma’lak box:

And he is the one who won’t listen to his loved ones, but jumps all over and obeys without question, the Word of God (the Law of the Father) that the only way is to shoot Jack with the new mystical gun (Colt Mark II) when Chuck shows up with it.

Displaced-in-time John said, in 14x13 Lebanon (having been filled in by his sons):

JOHN: “I-I went out takin’ out Yellow Eyes. I mean, that was the point, right? I mean, get the thing that killed mom.”

Chuck offers Dean the same choice (and, again, I think it’s a test).

Remember, as well as being the Revenge GunTM, the Hammurabi is also know as “The Equaliser”, so whatever happens to the person who is shot, also happens to the shooter. A perfect, perfect metaphor for the way in which John’s revenge quest rebounded on his sons (compounding the emotional trauma of losing their Mom).

If Dean’ follows in his father’s footsteps and shoots the yellow-eyed “demon” who killed Mary, his own adopted son Jack (who, did I mention, represents his child-self) he will die - literally, according to the “law” of Chuck’s mystical gun, but also symbolically.

Because symbolically, that choice represents the fact that Dean has been crushing the life out of himself, for a long time, thanks to the internalised Ghost of John Winchester in his head (demanding that he be a substitute-parent to Sammy, that he stay “on mission”, that he perform a certain kind of masculinity, that he is responsible for everything and everyone, that he constantly fails [because he is trying to live up to an impossible standard]).

And at the last, Dean passes the test. He says, “No,” to the ultimate Father FigureTM (God) who is shouting at him to pick up the gun and pull the trigger.

He says “No” even when Chuck promises to bring Mary back from the “dead”.

He does not repeat the cycle of his father’s revenge quest. He lowers the weapon of RevengeTM and of Re-bounding Suffering/ DeathTM.

He (finally) has compassion for Jack and thus (hopefully, hopefully) for his own child-self mirror.

On symbolic Mount Moriah, Dean confronts his Shadow-self, the part of him that is “just like” his father, the part that keeps controlling or pushing away his key relationships (with Sam and Cas and now Jack) the part that finds safety in orders, and in a black-and-white view of the world where monsters are monsters, and in which revenge is the answer.

Confronting the Shadow, as I wrote before 14x20 aired, can release us from “scapegoating”:

The Scapegoat: Speculative Musings on S14′s End (Moriah) (Linked to the Season’s Jungian Themes - Scapegoating and the Unacknowledged Shadow)

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/184068368304/the-scapegoat-speculative-musings-on-s14s-end

So, Dean says, “No” to God, the ultimate father-figure, and in doing so he is released from his Shadow-possession by the father-imago in his unconscious

DEAN: “No, my Mom was my hero, and I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this.”

As a counter-point, he embraces the feminine (his internal anima, according to Jung). He evolves.

And so, the mirror is broken through between the self and the Shadow-self, the ego and the id. AU!Michael/ the Ghost of John Winchester/ the Voice of God are out of Dean Winchester’s head. They can no longer control him: he has faced them all.

Now, Dean has to learn to be himself, a whole new final chapter in the journey.

“The shadow, when it is realized, is the source of renewal ... no progress or growth is possible until the shadow is adequately confronted and confronting means more than merely knowing about it. It is not until we have truly been shocked into seeing ourselves as we really are, instead of as we wish or hopefully assume we are, that we can take the first step toward individual reality” (Connie Zweig, Meeting the Shadow, 1990).

And, if you’ve been following the thread in the links to my other meta on Dean’s Shadow here, on how John’s repression in Dean’s mind was depicted (in subtext in S14) as, in part, Dean’s repression of his queerness (the Ma’lak box and the fridge-locker in Rocky’s mind-bar being symbols of the closet) then this culminating confrontation with the repressive image of The FatherTM in the form of God himself, as symbolic of Dean’s own controlling, self-repressing, self-closeting, Shadow-self, does seem to clear the way for... interesting developments (dramatic irony claxon - Dean still doesn’t know God is, in fact, himself bisexual).

However, as always, I caution that the overtly homoerotic denoument is more than likely to remain closeted at the last, in favour of the “familial”.

#Supernatural #14x20 #Moriah #SPN meta #Meta #Dean Winchester #The Ghost of John Winchester #AU!Michael #Fate vs free will #Jung in S14 #Ouroboros narrative #Dean is bisexual #still subtext #But subtext IS part of narrative

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lgbtqiahistoricalromance · 6 years ago

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YA & School Love in LGBTQIA+ Historical Romances

First off, I’m glad to say that the YA novels of today are teeming with LGBT characters, many of them MCs. That said, this is just a taste of a few that I really enjoyed or by authors you might not be aware of yet. @lgbtqreads is an excellent resource for more exhaustive lists, and also companies like Book Riot.

All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages. Short story anthology of LGBTQIA teenagers throughout history, from across the spectrum. Ed by Sandra Mitchell

- Take a journey through time and genres to discover stories where queer teens live, love and shape the world around them. Seventeen young adult authors across the queer spectrum have come together to create a collection of beautifully written diverse historical fiction for teens. From a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood set in war-torn 1870s Mexico featuring a transgender soldier, to two girls falling in love while mourning the death of Kurt Cobain, forbidden love in a sixteenth-century Spanish convent or an asexual girl discovering her identity amid the 1970s roller-disco scene, All Out tells a diverse range of stories across cultures, time periods and identities, shedding light on an area of history often ignored or forgotten.

Hayden Thorne novels are being reissued. She specializes in YA LGBT romance novels, many with fantasy elements, but all of them well constructed and inventive. I’ve read almost all of her novels in this genre, and several are mentioned elsewhere on this blog. Just, please, check out this amazing author’s work for some very creative takes on some of your favorite tropes, and ideas I’ve never read anywhere else.

A Place for Wolves by Kosoko Jackson

- Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe meets Code Name Verity in this heartbreaking and poignant historical thriller. (YA!!)

James Mills isn’t sure he can forgive his parents for dragging him away from his life, not to mention his best friend and sister, Anna. He’s never felt so alone. Enter Tomas. Falling for Tomas is unexpected, but sometimes the best things in life are. Then their world splits apart. A war that has been brewing finally bursts forward, filled with violence, pain, and cruelty. James and Tomas can only rely on each other as they decide how far they are willing to go—and who they are willing to become—in order to make it back to their families.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzie Lee (Review)

- A young bisexual British lord embarks on an unforgettable Grand Tour of Europe with his best friend/secret crush. An 18th-century romantic adventure for the modern age written by This Monstrous Thing author Mackenzi Lee - Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda meets the 1700s.Henry "Monty" Montague doesn't care that his roguish passions are far from suitable for the gentleman he was born to be. But as Monty embarks on his grand tour of Europe, his quests for pleasure and vice are in danger of coming to an end. Not only does his father expect him to take over the family's estate upon his return, but Monty is also nursing an impossible crush on his best friend and traveling companion, Percy.So Monty vows to make this yearlong escapade one last hedonistic hurrah and flirt with Percy from Paris to Rome. But when one of Monty's reckless decisions turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt, it calls into question everything he knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores.Witty, dazzling, and intriguing at every turn, The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue is an irresistible romp that explores the undeniably fine lines between friendship and love.

Don't miss Felicity's adventures in The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy, the highly anticipated sequel!

Pantomine by Laura Lam (Micah Grey Trilogy Book 1)

- In a land of lost wonders, the past is stirring once more . . .

Gene's life resembles a debutante's dream. Yet she hides a secret that would see her shunned by the nobility. Gene is both male and female. Then she displays unwanted magical abilities - last seen in mysterious beings from an almost-forgotten age. Matters escalate further when her parents plan a devastating betrayal, so she flees home, dressed as a boy.

The city beyond contains glowing glass relics from a lost civilization. They call to her, but she wants freedom not mysteries. So, reinvented as 'Micah Grey', Gene joins the circus. As an aerialist, she discovers the joy of flight - but the circus has a dark side. She's also plagued by visions foretelling danger. A storm is howling in from the past, but will she heed its roar?

Ash by Malinda Lo

In the wake of her father's death, Ash is left at the mercy of her cruel stepmother. Consumed with grief, her only joy comes by the light of the dying hearth fire, rereading the fairy tales her mother once told her. In her dreams, someday the fairies will steal her away. When she meets the dark and dangerous fairy Sidhean, she believes that her wish may be granted. The day that Ash meets Kaisa, the King's Huntress, her heart begins to change. Instead of chasing fairies, Ash learns to hunt with Kaisa. Their friendship, as delicate as a new bloom, reawakens Ash's capacity for love--and her desire to live. But Sidhean has already claimed Ash for his own, and she must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love. Entrancing and empowering, Ash beautifully unfolds the connections between life and love, and solitude and death, where transformation can come from even the deepest grief.

The Unbinding of Mary Reade by Miriam McNamara

- A clever, romantic novel based on the true story of a girl who disguised herself as a boy to sail with the infamous pirates Anne Bonny and Calico Jack—and fell in love with Anne Bonny.

There’s no place for a girl in Mary’s world. Not in the home of her mum, desperately drunk and poor. Not in the household of her wealthy granny, where no girl can be named an heir. And certainly not in the arms of Nat, her childhood love who never knew her for who she was. As a sailor aboard a Caribbean merchant ship, Mary’s livelihood—and her safety—depends on her ability to disguise her gender.

At least, that’s what she thinks is true. But then pirates attack the ship, and in the midst of the gang of cutthroats, Mary spots something she never could have imagined: a girl pirate.

The sight of a girl standing unafraid upon the deck, gun and sword in hand, changes everything. In a split-second decision, Mary turns her gun on her own captain, earning herself the chance to join the account and become a pirate alongside Calico Jack and Anne Bonny.

For the first time, Mary has a shot at freedom. But imagining living as her true self is easier, it seems, than actually doing it. And when Mary finds herself falling for the captain’s mistress, she risks everything—her childhood love, her place among the crew, and even her life.

Breathlessly romantic and brilliantly subversive, The Unbinding of Mary Reade is sure to sweep readers off their feet and make their hearts soar.

Deviant Desire by Jackson Marsh (Just came out March 7th!)

- The Victorian East End lives in fear of the Ripper and his mission to kill rent boys. Silas Hawkins, nineteen and forging a life on the streets could well be the next victim, but when he meets Archer, his life changes forever. Young, attractive and rich, Archer is The Viscount Clearwater, a philanthropist, adventurer and homosexual.When Archer suspects the Ripper is killing to lure him to a confrontation, he risks his reputation and his life to stop the madman's murders. Every man must play his part, including Silas.A mashup of mystery, romance and adventure, Deviant Desire is set in an imaginary London of 1888. The first in an on-going series, it takes the theme of loyalty and friendship in a world where homosexuality is a crime. Secrets must be kept, lovers must be protected, and for Archer and Silas, it marks the start of their biggest adventure - love.

The Prince and The Dressmaker by Jen Wang

- Set in Paris, this graphic novel follows Sebastian, a prince with a secret. By day, Sebastian laments his parents' fervent search for his bride-to-be, but by night, Sebastian transforms into fashion icon Lady Crystallia! Sebastian's best friend and dressmaker, Frances, has kept his secret, but when the secret becomes too hard to keep, she may risk their friendship and Sebastian's trust for her own shot at the spotlight.

A Light Amongst Shadows (Dark is the Night series Book 1) by Kelley York and Rowan Altwood

This whole series is gold, but here is the information on the first novel...

James Spencer is hardly the typical troubled youth who ends up at Whisperwood School for Boys. Instead of hating the strict schedules and tight oversight by staff, James blossoms, quickly making friends, indulging in his love of writing, and contemplating the merits of sneaking love poems to the elusive and aloof William Esher. The rumours about William’s sexuality and opium reliance are prime gossip material amongst the third years…rumours that only further pique James’ curiosity to uncover what William is really like beneath all that emotional armor. And, when the normally collected William stumbles in one night, shaken and ranting of ghosts, James is the only one who believes him. James himself has heard the nails dragging down his bedroom door and the sobs echoing in the halls at night. He knows others have, too, even if no one will admit it. The staff refuses to entertain such ridiculous tales, and punishment awaits anyone who brings it up. Their fervent denial and the disappearance of students only furthers James’ determination to find out what secrets Whisperwood is hiding…especially if it prevents William and himself from becoming the next victims.

Originally, this list was going to include professors too, but they were already on a list and May/December romances will be on the list for May.

Adding a link for a list of best LGBT fantasy romances in the YA genre, because they have several novels with historical themes that I know friends/fellow readers I know, have enjoyed.

#lgbt romance #historical romance

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turtlestampede · 3 years ago

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A cute little tale from the Golden Age of comics dipping yet again into the Wayne Murders (much like Matt Reeves film The Batman).

It adds yet another layer to why Thomas Wayne was murdered. While attending a flying animal themed masquerade ball as a bat, the doctor is kidnapped, publicly and on film, to perform a procedure on mob boss Moxon. After removing the bullet, Thomas feels his life threatened and fights his way out. At the trial Moxon is sentenced to 10 years and swears revenge on Thomas.

In the interim Dr. Wayne invests and becomes wealthy (explaining how a doctor became rich). Moxon confronts Wayne when he is released and threatens his life. The rest is history.

Fast forward to Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson cleaning out an attic and come by across Thomas’s diary and the film from the masquerade ball. Bruce surmises he subconsciously remembered his fathers costume when he was inspired by the flying bat.

Realizing Joey Chill was just a hired gun, Bruce decides to go after Moxon. Gordon informs him that Moxon now runs a dirigible advertising company in Coastal City (Green Lantern’s Coast City?)

Capturing Moxon, he charges him with the murder of Thomas Wayne. I suppose Batman has jurisdiction in Coastal City too? Moxon claims he never heard of Wayne or Chill and voluntarily takes a lie detector test, which the officer administering the test says no on can beat. So the police can no longer hold Moxon.

Batman asks Gordon who reveals shortly after the Wayne murders he was in a car accident and got amnesia. Could have led with that info Gordon. Convenient. Going back to confront Moxon again, he dons his father’s costume. The previous scrapes left his original costume torn.

Seeing Bruce in his father’s costume triggers all the memories, freaking out because he thinks he’s seeing a ghost because he had Joe Chill kill Thomas, thus confessing. Then the panic to escape had him run out into traffic and getting run over by a truck.

Now Thomas’s costume sits in a trophy case in the Batcave with a plaque about the Wayne murders being solved. Again.

Obviously the story wasn’t written to be scrutinized or to be part of a sprawling canon lasting decades. But I like to examine it anyway in regards to the timelines. Bruce must have been very young, at least 4, to be talking and expressing his wonder of the costume to his dad but not old enough to remember. Ten years pass between the masquerade ball and the murder so Bruce would have been 14. His age of the murder has always been treated fast and loose, between 8 and 12, depending on the story but 14 is acceptable. Then give him 10 years to train so he’d be starting out as Batman around 24-25. It works out.

It’s a good story though despite that the public perception is that this vigilante from Gotham City accuses a seemingly legitimate businessman of a decades old murder and then the businessman winds up dead shortly after being proven innocent. Makes me wonder if Batman is allowed back in Coastal City

#dc comics #golden age #batman #comicbooks

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misscrawfords · 7 years ago

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Well, I saw The Last Jedi...

HERE BE SPOILERS

(Also - I will be tagging all posts with “spoilers” and “tlj spoilers” for you to avoid. However, from now on this blog is NOT SPOILER FREE and I can’t guarantee that something might not slip past by accident. Proceed at your own risk.

Okay, I’ve just got back and my head is whirling so don’t expect complex analysis.

However, I’ve been chatting with the lovely ladies in the spoiler zone of the Reylo discord chat and that’s helping me clarify my thoughts a lot.

So basic reactions first in no particular order:

- I am now in love with Poe Dameron. I now ship Damerey. I don’t know how this happened.

- There’s a bit in the soundtrack that is basically the finale of Sibelius’ 2nd Symphony. No1 curr I know but I’m intrigued.

- There was way too much going on in this film. It was like a later HP book - some great things happening individually but overall I just want to kick it because there was too much and it was easy to lose sight of the heart of it and its message because there was YET ANOTHER BATTLE and yet another subplot and character development for a minor character. I’m really frustrated.

- Since when was Hux such an awesome character!? I loved how he was played for laughs but honestly this is absolutely Draco-in-leather-pants. Kylux is literally a Cassandra Clare fanfiction. What is life.

- Several deus ex machina moments that made me go “hmm”. Floaty sky princess? Um, okay. That was unnecessary and a bit weird. Felt like a cringey tribute to Carrie Fisher and then she was knocked out for most of the film. I have problems with that entire narrative arc. To be explored later. Also Force ghost Yoda. Really?

- WTF was that child doing at the end? I’m so confused. My instant reaction is to be suspicious and annoyed. If that child grows up to have the Force and takes away from Rey then I will be so annoyed. Also, we don’t need more characters. We really, really don’t!

- I was disappointed in Rose and Finn. I just... I just didn’t care. Because, once again, there was too much going on. Their whole storyline felt tacked on. Like, there were elements I really liked. I loved the whole weapons dealing in space concept - it was blatant but really good. We were basically in space Saudi Arabia and I loved that and I loved the code breaker who betrayed them for money. It was a more interesting and morally grey update of the bounty hunter concept and I really loved it. Also it fitted very well with the overarching theme of both sides being flawed and the profit of war and it all being kind of pointless in a way. BUT there was too much of it and I feel like they could have shown that message and done Canto Bight somehow without so much subplot that really distracted from the main heart of the film. I’ll need to think about this further and how I would have preferred it to go. Also at the end, I was really annoyed at Rose for saving Finn. Like, I 100% did NOT want Finn to sacrifice himself - NO SIR - but Rose stopped him potentially saving the whole Resistance by taking out that gun. Like, strategically it was dumb since Finn had committed to doing that. (I’m sorry, I’m such a cool-headed Slytherin, but it’s true!) I don’t know where to go from here for these two characters and I didn’t really buy the romance. Perhaps I would have done if there HADN’T BEEN SO MUCH DAMN STUFF GOING ON.

- It was really funny. Like, I was not expecting the humour. Especially over the First Order. But seriously, the FO run by played-for-laughs Hux and emotionally unstable Kylo is not exactly going to be a slick administration, right? It’s a recipe for disaster! (Sorry, Hermione Granger brain taking over again.)

- SHIRTLESS KYLO FANSERVICE. what even

- Every single “inappropriate use of the Force” fic is now canon.

- I kind of need to do a separate post about my Reylo thoughts and feelings, but suffice to say I am actually very conflicted, as I am about most of the film. Everything that happened made total sense in terms of character development and as a continuation of TFA and I applaud that and yet I feel uneasy. I also felt a lack of romantic/sexual chemistry between them that the film could have built up with music and other techniques, even despite shirtless Kylo and the HANDTOUCHING SCENE OMG WHAT IS LIFE. I’m not saying that there isn’t a basis for something to develop in IX but I was left feeling... I don’t actually know. THERE WAS TOO MUCH GOING ON AROUND THEM. I need to watch it again. I may pick up on things on a second viewing I didn’t see this time.

- SAVE BEN SOLO. Honestly, I have no idea what is going on. The film is massively pushing a redemption arc in its plot and what everyone around Kylo is saying. And every time he has the opportunity to fall in with this, HE DOES THE EXACT OPPOSITE. He’s not the only one being torn apart tbh. I don’t understand what the film wants me to think about this. (This isn’t about me analysing it, it’s about an initial reaction to feeling that I don’t know what the film is doing. It seems to be saying “Redeem Ben Solo! It can happen! That’s where this is going!” at the same time as “Kylo Ren is a monster and is turning into the Big Bad of this trilogy” which I don’t really believe but also I just do not see how he can come back from where he is.) But oh my goodness, his was the performance to watch. And he is still the centre and heart of the trilogy, as he should be as the new Skywalker.

- Speaking of Skywalkers... I loved Luke. He was so incredibly “Luke” and yet different. Is it what I’d expected? From what I’d heard and the marketing, yes. From his character as I previously understood it, I’ll have to watch the OT again. I think it probably works. It’s interesting. And Mark Hamill was absolutely fantastic. I really loved the flashbacks and the explanation of the destruction of the school and how it was a horrible, horrible misunderstanding. Best way out. Really tragic. And I like how the adults are taking responsibility for what happened to Ben. But also, like, the choices he makes now are his own. And they are terrible, terrible choices??? Not just morally terrible but also just, like, terrible. Poorly thought out...

- And yet, to me, the most true thing anyone said at any point was Ben’s speech to Rey when he asked her to join him about needing the whole old order to be swept away and replaced. It just... it really does? I felt such a feeling of relief. Like, the legacy is so strong in these characters. They need to get away from their past and the mistakes of the past and the burdens of the past. And that’s shown with the Resistance story but also with the Jedi story. Kylo’s way of doing this is all wrong, of course, but his ideas and vision is right and true. And I feel like this needs to happen! I don’t know HOW Ben can be pulled back from all the awful decisions he is continually making and the fact that he is squandering every single chance he gets, but I just feel like the only ending that is truly satisfying is Rey and Kylo starting from scratch again with a clean slate.

- Which is why Rey Nobody is so important. Whether Kylo is telling the truth or not about her parentage, she’s not a Skywalker. Or a Solo. Or anyone from the OT. And that is so necessary and important.

- I have no idea whether to talk about Kylo Ren or Ben Solo.

- Before watching it I kind of wanted Rey and Kylo to leave together on nobody’s side but their own but watching I realised that she would never leave with Kylo. She will only leave with Ben. But he is refusing to be that person so I don’t know if it can happen. But it also has to happen. Because if Kylo dies in an act of redemption (which is what I always thought would be his fate after TFA) then Rey is left alone again and there is no balance. Sure she has her Resistance friends whom she loves and who love her and that is GREAT, I’m not knocking it, but they don’t understand her. They build up the Force bond, they build up the fact that neither is alone because they have each other, they see their future with each other (and even if that is a manipulation of Snoke’s, he is showing them what they want to see so it is still true) - and then Kylo dies and Rey is all alone as the Last Jedi after being alone all her life. And like, yes, found family and all but... it’s just. Why set all of that up? I’m just incredibly conflicted.

- I’m going to spend the next two years trying to understand all of this by writing Poe/Rey/Ben love triangle fic. Because I loved that moment of chemistry between Rey and Poe and I think he is kind of like the hero she wants but she’s got this connection to Ben and she’s got to deal with that but I think a transitional period in which she awakens to romantic/sexual feelings via Poe would be very important to her. Because I think one of the issues I have with seeing Reylo in this movie is that Rey is just so forceful and determined on one thing that she is not thinking in terms of romance or anything like that at all. There’s just nothing coming off her in that sense - until she sees Poe. And I’m conflicted between what the symbolism is in the film and what the characters actually do. Symbolically and mythologically Reylo is the only answer. But the acting and the characters of them as psychologically realised individuals is problematic to me. I don’t know if any of that makes sense, it’s 1.33am now.

- So on the topic of Rey will only go with Ben and not with Kylo, Ben has to save himself. Rey MUSTN’T, for the sake of feminist narratives everywhere, this cannot become a “bad boy saved by the love of a good woman” story, and I don’t think it is because Kylo is rejected every attempt Rey is making to change him. When he does do something “good”, it is of his own volition. The throne room and killing Snoke, for instance, (also, I totally called that as something that could happen, not that I did it here so I can’t prove it - ah well!), he didn’t do because of Rey directly. So he has to work that out for himself but I have no idea how he is going to do it. I mean, sure Rey can be part of this process and even the catalyst, but she can’t do it for it.

- I’m still so confused by the ending. Were Rey and Kylo looking at each other? I’ve seen people say he was kneeling in front of her, but I’m confused because I thought he was in the main part of the base and they were in the Falcon somewhere in the salt mountains? And also I thought Leia was still on the ground and I was convinced she was going to stay behind and see Kylo but then she was on the Falcon and were Kylo and Rey just staring at each other? I’m confused. I think this may have been a meaningful moment but I was just trying to work out where they all were and what was going on.

SO over all. Overall, I enjoyed lots of it but I don’t think it was a great movie. There was simply too much of it and ultimately I think there was a really fascinating and subtle story surrounding Luke, Kylo/Ben, Leia and Rey with juicy goodies like Force Bonds and grey morality and growing up and growing old (for all that Yoda’s appearance made me roll my eyes, I loved the line about the roll of the master being to be outgrown or whatever it was because as a teacher it’s just, yeah... it meant a lot). But this great and interesting and new take on the SW universe was being lost in battle after battle and confusing Resistance politics and overlong subplots that went nowhere (Finn and Rose didn’t even succeed?! What was the POINT) and an attempt to shoehorn in this fascinating story into a generic SW movie about the plucky band of Resistance fighters and the big bad Empire that we’ve seen too many times before.

LET. THE. PAST. DIE. I’m over that plot and I’m just annoyed because it has the makings of a great movie but I’m just left feeling too much was going on and I’m confused about the bits I really wanted to focus on and linger over.

Anyway, going to see it again on Wednesday with school and I am going to really, really focus on Reylo and trying to find the possibilities for romance so that if nothing else I have fodder for fanfic!

#Star Wars #The Last Jedi #spoilers #tlj spoilers #reylo #I lied #these are not a few initial thoughts #this is a living example of tl;dr #sorry #I have lots of thoughts #most of them make NO SENSE

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daughterof-chaos · 7 years ago

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Commit to Memory

Author’s Note: This is a Juice Ortiz imagine based off of Your Call by Secondhand Serenade and imagine number 3 for Music Monday #2, as requested by a wonderful Nonny. This one is a tad on the darker side, but I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Let me know! Rated M for adult language and adult themes. ***Trigger Warning for abuse and violence***

**UPDATE** This is my work–originally posted to my old blog @callmemrskozik which is no longer in use. Just wanted to put it out there so people don’t fill up my inbox accusing me of plagiarism.

Commit to Memory

-XX-

Waiting for your call, I’m sick, call I’m angry Call I’m desperate for your voice Listening to the song we used to sing In the car, do you remember Butterfly, Early Summer It’s playing on repeat, just like when we would meet Like when we would meet I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight

-XX-

“I told you I’d find you,” the calm, calculating voice pulls her from her thoughts and turning she sees Jesse standing in the doorway of the TM office, vibrating with anger.

“Jesse, you can’t be here,” her voice shakes despite how she tries to hide her fear. It’s been eighteen months since she left in the middle of the night, and even though she’s lived in fear that entire time she’s been trying to pull herself together, “the restraining order…”

“You stupid bitch, do you really think I give a fuck about what a piece of paper says?” he spits taking a step towards her. Her hand instinctively goes for the gun she knows Gemma keeps strapped to the underside of the desk and finding it gone, she closes her eyes on a broken oath.

His hand is strong as it circles her arm, pulling her up from the desk.

“We’re going for a little drive now Mari,” he says and she cringes having always hated the way he shortened her name and as much as she wants to correct him he presses the barrel of a gun through his coat pocket into her side and any and all arguments slide away. The people she has come to love and care for are just inside the clubhouse and she’ll be damned if anything happens to them because of her.

“Okay. Just let me get my purse,” she keeps her voice even and with some form of luck swinging her way he loosens his hold so she can bend down for her purse, and as she lifts it from the spot she keeps it under the desk she leaves in its place the simple silver ring Juice gave her, praying it’s enough.

“Hey babe,” Juice calls out as he closes the apartment door behind him. Every single part of him aches from the two day run, but it’s worth it now that he’s home with her. “Mariana?” He listens to the silence, confused by it, and glancing up at the clock he sees that she should be home. He notices the bowl that sits on the entry way table is empty, her keys and sunglasses nowhere in sight, and he wonders if she got caught up at work. Pulling the cell phone from his pocket he calls her, fear starting to nibble at his mind when it goes straight to voicemail.

It never goes straight to voicemail.

He paces madly as he dials Gemma’s number.

“Hey Juice,” Gemma’s voice fills his head.

“Have you seen Mariana?” he asks rubbing a hand over his head.

“No baby, I thought she was at home. I came to check on her at closing time and she was already gone,” Gemma replies and the silence that settles on the line is heavy.

“Something’s wrong,” Juice says, and without waiting for a response he hangs up the phone and runs for the door.

The truck bumps along a dirt road, and looking out of the window she tries to make out her surroundings, but nothing really sticks through the haze. Her body aches, thanks to his hands and anger, and all progress made in the last eighteen months has simply slipped away, the strong woman who had been blossoming effectively stamped back into the cowering shadow of who she used to be.

She wonders how many times Juan has tried calling her, knowing that by now he’s working himself up to a fever pitch of worry. Wanting nothing more than to be able to answer his calls, she presses her head to the cool glass of the car window and fights back the tears.

She told herself a year and a half ago that she would never cry in front of Jesse Wilkens ever again, and that’s a promise she intends to keep.

-XX-

Stripped and polished, I am new, I am fresh I am feeling so ambitious, you and me, flesh to flesh Cause every breath that you will take When you are sitting next to me Will bring life into my deepest hopes, What’s your fantasy? (What’s your, what’s your…) I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight

-XX-

He sits, arms braced on his knees as he stares at the small circle of silver in the palm of his hand. It’s such a simple thing really, a ring that caught his eye while on a run and on a whim he bought it for Mariana, giving it to her for their one-year anniversary.

She had cried.

Not because she assumed it meant they were engaged, because they weren’t, but because as she would tell it, no one had given her anything before. Not her deadbeat parents. Not her abusive douche bag ex-boyfriend.

He made love to her that night, for what felt like the first time, taking his time to savor the way her body moved with his, the taste of her sweat slicked skin, and closing his eyes on the memory his palm closes around her ring. He worries, though he won’t say it out loud, that he didn’t take nearly as many opportunities to commit everything about her to memory, and the thought of not having the chance to do just that sets off an ache inside of him that he never imagined possible.

“Any word yet brother?” Chibs asks as he comes to settle next to him and with a shake of his head Juice opens his eyes to look at his friend.

“I want to marry her,” Juice confesses, slipping the ring into the pocket of his cut, “where is she Chibs? Where the hell is she?”

“I don’t know Juicy, but we’ll find her, I promise you that,” Chibs says clapping him on the back, “though it would be a hell of a lot easier if this was something she’d done before.”

Chibs’ words hit him like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” Juice says as he jumps up and runs for his laptop. “How did I not think of that.” He pulls his laptop from his bag and opening it he waits the agonizing few minutes it takes for it to boot up. “You’re a fucking genius Chibs.”

“I am? I mean of course I am, but why exactly am I genius today?” Chibs asks trying to bring an element of humor to the situation.

“Mariana has disappeared before, that’s how she ended up here,” Juice says as he starts typing in all information he has on Jesse Wilkens, and when the results come back that he had been released early on good behavior he swears. “Son of a bitch. I know who has Mariana, and I think I know where.”

-XX-

And I’m tired of being all alone, and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home (I know everything you wanted isn’t anything you have) I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to

-XX-

She’s curled into herself, fingers tracing mindless patterns on the wall. Jesse snores next to her, and while a part of her has studied the space between her and the door she knows it would be pointless trying to make a run for it, as she’s handcuffed to her captor.

She had loved him once. A terrifying, all consuming kind of love that lent itself more to obsession and infatuation than to sincerity and genuine emotion. There connection had burned bright, like a supernova, scorching everything in its path, and when that light died out, she was left with the aftermath of a love gone terribly wrong.

When all was said and done and she managed to run away, she hated him; but more than anything, she hated what she had become while with him.

As a means of escape from the dark path her thoughts threaten to take her down she lets her mind wander to Juan, and a ghost of smile crosses her lips. Closing her eyes, she pictures his smile, remembering the countless nights they found themselves sitting naked in the middle of the bed they now share talking and eating, mostly junk, because though his body would indicate otherwise, Juan has one hell of a sweet tooth.

She wonders if they’ll ever do that again.

No, she tells herself. It will never happen again. Jesse will never let her go. She has two choices, pick up where she left off with Jesse, as if the last year and a half of blessed freedom from his control was nothing more than a bittersweet vacation, or die.

Like it says in Peter Pan, ‘to die will be an awfully big adventure.’ She lets out a shuddering breath as tears flow down her cheeks, but then she sees a flash of light shine through the window. Her heart catches in her chest, and when the silence grows agonizingly loud and long, she wonders if she simply dreamt it up until she hears the crash and the sound of splintering wood.

Jesse moves fast, rolling over her, and with her back pressed firmly to his chest, shielding him, he holds the hunting knife to her throat as light pours into the room.

Juan takes point with Chibs and Happy flanking him, and in spite of the way the blade bites into her throat she smiles.

She wanted nothing more than to see Juan’s face one last time.

-XX-

And I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight (I know everything you wanted isn’t anything you have)

-XX-

“Drop the knife asshole, and let Mariana go,” his voice is low as he stares at the man he’s come to hate.

“Fuck you, she’s mine,” Jesse spits adding just enough pressure to the blade at Mariana’s throat that a drop of blood rolls down her skin, soaking into her shirt.

“I can’t get a clear shot brother,” Happy mutters angrily.

“Neither can I,” Chibs offers and he knows what it means.

It’s for him to do.

It’s the only way that Mariana will ever really be free of him, free to live a life without fear, free to live her life God willing that she chooses to, with him.

“Juan,” Mariana’s voice whispers through the fog clouding his head. His eyes meet hers and they shine, as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I love you.”

The room erupts as he pulls the trigger and when both Jesse and Mariana slump back he’s terrified that he missed his mark, but then he hears her crying, and pressing the gun he holds into Happy’s waiting hands he goes to her.

“I’ve got you,” he says pushing the hair from her face, looking past the spray of blood that paints her skin, “I’m going to get you out here Mariana, I promise, you just have to stay with me baby, stay with me.”

He helped her shower, gritting his teeth at the bruises and scrapes, and when she turned in his arms to press her face into his throat he held on as she rode out the storm of her emotions, and once she emptied herself he dressed her in one of his shirts and tucked her into bed, climbing in beside her.

His hand rests overs hers as he studies her face, and with a smile he brushes a kiss to her cheek, promising to ask her in the morning if she’ll give him the rest of their lives together so he can commit everything about her to memory.

#Sons of Anarchy #Juan-Carlos Juice Ortiz #SAMPERV #Fanfiction #fanfic #Juice Ortiz #SOA

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