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aerynwrites · 3 years ago

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When The Dust Settles || Jayvik

Jayce x Viktor

A/N: This takes place just after the ending of epsiode 9 in the aftermath of the rocket hitting the council chamber. Some angst followed by sweet hurt comfort. This is my first time writing a ship fic so I really hope you all enjoy! I would love to hear what you all think! also huge thanks to @thedreamlessnights for listening to me rant and rave about Jayvik xD

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, the divorce era doesn’t exist in my house, they will be happy forever if I have a say so.

Jayce has never believed in the silly tales people tell about death. Never accepted the idea that life flashes before your eyes when death is imminent or that times appear to slow down as one's doom approaches.

But the image of that rocket, that blue haze in the otherwise blood-red sky… does make time slow for Jayce. Suddenly he's thrown back in time as the window of the council chamber shatters into a million tiny pieces.

He remembers the night he almost took his life, remembers the golden eyes of the man who saved him and has stayed by his side ever since. He remembers the sting of glass cutting his cheeks as his theory finally came to fruition in the darkened room of the Academy. Blue light explodes around them as two bodies are launched into the air.

But it's different now. Time slows just enough for him to glance at his partner; brown irises meet amber ones before he's falling. They're both airborne again like that time all those years ago, but this time the ground rushes up to meet them. Then everything is dark…dark and quiet and still.

Until it isn't.

Screams and blasting horns ring in his ears as his eyes try to peel open. They are far off; at least they feel that way. But they are loud enough to push past the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head. He tries to take a breath, but dust coats his tongue, and a sharp pain in his side rips a cry from his throat.

He should be worried about himself, the apparent broken rib, the pounding in his head, and his swimming vision. But only one word runs through his mind. One name. The only person that matters.

"Viktor…" his voice is weak, barely even a whimper as the words get caught in his dust-coated throat.

Viktor. Viktor. Viktor. Where is he?

There. He's there. Jayce sees him as he forces himself into his side, swallowing the groan that bubbles in his chest as he does so.

Oh, gods… he's so still. Why is he so still? Is he…? No. He can't be.

The screams are still there; he can see other bodies on the floor. Can hear them moaning in pain or crying out for one another. But he can't find it in him to care. He just needs…he needs to get to Viktor. Now.

He practically pulls himself across the floor, acutely aware of searing pain in one of his legs. His fingers dig into the cracked ground, slipping against the rubble and dust that covers it in layers. He's closer now, and he nearly cries out when he sees the slow rise and fall of Viktor's chest.

"Viktor!" He calls out again, trying to stir him to consciousness, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice. "Wake up, Viktor-"He calls out to the man he loves, now within reach to lay panicked hands on his arm.

Jayce finally looks up from him, sheer panic and dread fueling his motivations. He needs someone, anyone, to help him. They need medical attention; they need help from someone - anyone.

But no one is coming. Not now, at least. The far wall of the council chamber is gone, obliterated by whatever was fired at them. A sizeable hole has opened up in the floor where the council typically sits, and Jayce swallows hard, trying not to think of who the gaping maw swallowed up. Jayce turns back to Viktor, his panic quelled only because his chest still moved up and down.

He scoots closer, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg as he manages to move into a sitting position, resting against a chunk of rubble that just missed him and Viktor.

He places shaking hands beneath Viktor's arms, pulling him as gently as possible until he's cradled in Jayce's arms. He's heavy, completely dead weight as Jayce holds him closer, eyes flicking over his form to try and take stock of any injuries he has.

Jayce immediately notices the sickening wet matte of chestnut hair on Viktor's temple. Crimson streaks down his face, leaving tracks in the dust coating his skin.

Jayce feels his breathing pick up, flames of fear licking at his mind again as he sees this. He swallows thickly, the spit going down like glue in his throat, as he rests a hand on Viktor's cheek.

He's breathing. He's still breathing. He's alive. He's okay.

"Viktor, please…please wake up. I need to know-"Jayce nearly chokes on a sob that crawls up from within his chest. "You can't leave. Not now, please."

Jayce has never begged for anything in his life. Sure he's fought for things, but he's never begged. But now, it's all he can think to do. He would get down on his knees and grovel at the feet of whatever gods existed if it meant Viktor would be okay. He would do anything.

He has so much he has to fix. So many things he needs to tell Viktor. How sorry he is for losing sight of their dream. Apologize for letting their relationship suffer because he was so consumed with greatness.

He was so consumed that he let the greatest thing that happened to him slip through his fingers.

Jayce didn't even realize tears had started to spill down his cheeks until they landed on Viktor. He immediately moves to wipe them away, smearing soot and dust across pale skin.

He can't lose Viktor. He won't. If it means giving up his seat on the council. Giving up Hextech. He doesn't care…he won't lose Viktor.

A ragged cough pulls him from his thoughts, and his eyes lock onto the source of the sound. Viktor shakes in his grasp, shoulders heaving as he expels dust and contaminants from his lungs.

Jayce shifts him in his arms as his cough subsides, holding him more securely, so Viktor can look at him. Pools of gold rise slowly to meet his own, and Jayce can't stop the sob this time. Relief rushes through his veins as Viktor brings a hand up to rest atop his.

"What happened?" His accent is thick on his tongue, words slurred slightly as he fights back towards consciousness.

But Jayce has never heard anything so beautiful.

He shakes his head. "I don't know." He says honestly, just now realizing he has absolutely no clue what the hell happened. He was so concerned with Viktor that he didn't even stop to think about it or try to find answers.

Viktor's eyes close as another bout of coughs shake his frame. He only speaks when they subside. "Are you alright?"

Jayce nods, more tears dripping from his eyes at the movement. He wraps his hand around Viktor's chilled one when the man gives him a confused look.

"Why are you crying?" He asks, concern lacing his noticeably less slurred words. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Jayce assured him. "I was…I thought you were - were…." He swallows the words, unable to say them without bringing forth another wave of fear.

Viktor's lips twitch up in a smile. As much of one he can muster despite whatever pain he must be experiencing. "You can't…" he trails off as he takes a deep breath. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

The laugh Jayce lets out is wet with tears and makes him grimace at the pain it causes in his side. But he can't be happier.

"Of course not," he says, a smile on his own on his face. "You foiled my whole plan."

Viktor lets out a huff but doesn't say much else, so Jayce takes this moment to rest his forehead against Viktor’s, eyes slipping closed in relief.

"I was so scared." He admits, voice a mere whisper. "I thought I lost you."

Shaky fingers slide against Jayce's cheek, and he subconsciously leans into the palm that settles there, relishing in the contact.

"I'm here," Viktor assures him, hand sliding further so his fingers can tangle in Jayce's hair at the base of his neck. "I'm not going anywhere. Not willingly."

Jayce nods slightly. "I know." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Vik," he says, everything he wanted to say spilling out before he can stop it. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry that I let the council cloud my judgment. I'm sorry for everything, for being gone. For the things I said." He chokes back another sob as Viktor's fingers press into the back of his neck. "I'm so sorry. Please, I hope you can forgive-"

Warm lips stop the fountain of apologies in their tracks, and Jayce can taste the salt of his tears as Viktor kisses him. Jayce pulls him closer, eyes screwing closed as he kisses him back. He would mold himself to Viktor if he could, stay with him always, for the rest of eternity if it were possible.

And at this moment, he pretends it is.

He can feel the grit of dust and rubble on his teeth, can taste the metallic tang of blood, but he doesn't even care. Because Viktor is alive.

He's here. He's here, breathing, alive, and doesn't completely hate me.

And he'll do everything to keep it that way.

Viktor is the first to pull away, but he doesn't go far. Jayce can still feel his breath on his cheek and how Viktor's lips brush against his as he speaks.

"There's nothing to forgive," Viktor says simply, leaning to rest his head against Jayce's chest, exhaustion evident in his eyes.

Jayce says nothing because there's nothing he can say to that. So instead, he pulls Viktor that much closer and takes a deep breath.

New shouts finally started to replace the ones that had faded from the council chamber. An army of footsteps grows louder with each passing moment, and Jayce realizes help has finally arrived.

They would get out of here. Alive. And Jayce would spend every moment he could fighting to keep them both that way.

No matter what it takes.

#jayce x viktor #jayvik #arcane #arcane viktor #jayce talis #arcane jayce

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years ago

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The Right Chapter 6 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Happy Saturday my loves! Another short update today but I promise that Tuesday’s chapter will be longer and that you’ll love it.

contains: canon-typical description of violence, guns, blood

wordcount: 1.6k

“Garcia, tell me you have something helpful.” Hotch groaned into the phone. This case had not been an easy one.

“Hotch, something’s wrong. (Y/N) called me from the station with a theory and then I heard a man and she gasped and the line went dead.” Garcia spilled out as fast as she could.

Aaron felt his jaw tighten immediately. He placed a hand on Rossi’s shoulder, and the look on his face told Rossi to round up the rest of the team, even if he didn’t know why. Aaron took off towards an SUV, not waiting for the rest of the team. “And you’re sure? The call didn’t just drop?” Hotch asked.

“Hotch., I’m sure. Drive fast.”

“Call the rest of the team and let them know. They’re in the car behind me but they don’t know why.” Hotch said, hanging up the phone and dropping it into the cupholder as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

He was driving too fast, taking wide turns, and he was sure that if you were here in the car with him you would have been commanding you to slow down, with both hands dramatically wrapped around the handle above the passenger side door. But you weren’t here, and he didn’t know exactly where you were, or if you were safe, and so he pressed down on the accelerator even further, pushing the engine well past its intended limits. He whipped the car into park outside the front door of the police station, not waiting for the others before charging towards the front door.

“Hotch!” Rossi called after him. “You need a vest. Get back here. We need a strategy, we can’t just rush the building.”

“The rest of you take the back.” Hotch called in response, as a strategy. Looking amongst themselves, the rest of the team wordlessly appoints Morgan to follow Hotch, and he takes off after him as soon as his vest is strapped in.

“Hotch-- Garcia called while we were in the car. (Y/N)’s theory was that the unsub was anti-government in some way. Like the system had failed him or something.” He explained lowly as they made their way through the empty station lobby, moving towards the back, where the bullpen and their makeshift office was.

The first thing Hotch noticed was you, the unsub’s hand around your throat and his gun pressed to your temple. You’re bleeding from your forehead, but you’re conscious. The unsub was using you as a human shield. Then, Aaron noticed that in a room full of armed officers, not one had their weapon drawn. The group of them all had their hands raised in surrender. And then he saw why-- one of the officers, bleeding, slumped against the far wall.

“What are we going to do? Even if the rest of the team can sneak up on him from the back, we can’t take him down without hurting her.” Morgan asked.

“Just follow my lead.” Aaron said, swinging open the door with his gun drawn, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He locked eyes with you, giving you an almost imperceptible nod, one that said “I’ve got you” without saying anything at all.

“Well well, it looks like your friends did show up!” The unsub said, gripping your neck a little tighter and shaking you back and forth. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI. Let her go and put the gun down.” Aaron said steelily, not breaking eye contact with the unsub.

“Awful rude of you to walk in here and start making demands without even getting to know me, don’t you think?”

“I know everything I need to know about you.”

“Sure you do. Now, you and Muscles behind you can both put your guns away before you make me shoot another one of these good-for-nothing beat cops.”

Aaron weighed his options for a moment. If the unsub brandished his weapon at the officers with intent to kill, he and Morgan would have to take the shot. And maybe it would work. Or maybe the unsub would jerk his body just the wrong way, and the bullet that Aaron shot from his gun would tear through your frame, and you’d collapse, blood pouring out of you, and he’d have to lift you off the floor just like he lifted Haley-- he took in a sharp breath and tucked his gun back into the holster. Morgan followed suit. The door behind the unsub, the one he had dragged you back in through what felt like a million years ago, clicked into place and the usub turned around quickly, meeting the eyes of JJ, Prentiss, Reid and Rossi.

“Ah, ah. All of you, too. Guns away, and go ahead and stand over there with your friends.” The team looked to Aaron, who nodded, and then they followed orders. “And not one of you is going to even bother asking my name?”

“What’s your name?” Prentiss asked, not a hint of interest in her voice. You might have laughed if you weren’t so focused on not hyperventilating.

“Alec. Gordon. Not that you care,” He rolled his eyes. “I’m the guy who’s going to take out an FBI Agent in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky. That’s what they’ll remember me for. I’ll matter then.” He spits out. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Reid mumble something. Alec is still ranting and raving, but you’re too dizzy, too breathless, to really pay attention. You watch Aaron’s chest rise and fall, tensing when you realize he’s the only member of your team not wearing a vest. Why wasn’t he wearing a vest? Alec must have felt your muscles tense up under his grasp.

“Getting nervous, are we? Don’t worry, It’ll all be over soon.” He said, tracing the gun down your cheekbone to your chin. You swallowed, willing yourself not to look at the team, not to let them see your eyes filled with fear in your last moments. Suddenly, Reid speaks, interrupting Gordon.

“Alec, I know someone in power failed you. But taking it out on the people in this room isn’t going to help. Who was it, who did you tell about the abuse you were facing at home, who did you trust enough to share that with, and then they did nothing?” Reid asks, and your face scrunches up in confusion. How had they figured all of that out in such a short period of time? And if they knew all of that, how did they not know his name when they came in?

“Where to start, agent? There’s the principal, who watched my father strike me, the paramedic who corrected my broken arm but never filed a report, the firefighter who responded the first time I called 911 but was too scared to say anything. You all consider yourself to be protectors, public servants, even though you just want power. But who protected me? Not one of you. You’ll all pay for it now.”

“Alec, she isn’t who you want.” You hear Aaron’s voice cut through the loud pounding of your heartbeat. “You want someone in power? That’s me. I’m in charge of this unit. Let her go, and I’ll let you take me.

“Hotch!” You gasped, speaking for the first time since he’d walked in. The whole team seemed to jump. You started kicking against the unsubs legs with renewed vigor, even though it did nothing to free you. “Hotch, no! Jack needs you. Stop!”

He didn’t stop. He stepped forward, not looking you in the eye, but staring the unsub down. “Agent, be quiet. That’s an order.”

Something in his tone shut you up immediately, and your eyes welled up with tears. Hotch was about to die, in your place, and the last words you were ever going to hear him say were him barking at you like some rookie. And he wasn’t going to know how much you loved him.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get down on my knees. You are going to put your gun in the air, and you’re going to release my agent. I will hand you my cuffs, you will cuff me, and then you will let all of these people go. When you’re ready, you put that gun up in the air for me,” Aaron said, still not meeting your eyes. You were fully crying now, shoulders shaking even as you stayed silent per Aaron’s request.

“Pass your gun to one of your buddies, first.”

You watched as Aaron unholstered his weapon and passed it to Prentiss. Why was she letting him do this? Why were all of them allowing this? Aaron knelt down, and you felt the cool metal of the gun move away from your face and the unsub’s grip on you loosen. You look down at Aaron and his posture is bent, his back arched as he reaches behind him. Without warning, Alec shoves you towards Morgan and you collapse into his arms, instantly hearing a shot ring out in the otherwise silent room.

You tuck into Morgan’s chest, loud, shuddering sobs racking through your body. It should have been you. You wished that it was.

“We need a medic!” You hear Aaron’s voice call out, and he… doesn’t sound injured at all, actually. He sounds very much alive.

You whip your body around so fast that Morgan has to catch you so you don’t fall. The unsub is on the floor, bleeding from his thigh. Prentiss has him in cuffs. Hotch is holding the Glock 26 that he keeps in his ankle holster. You look him over once, twice, three times. He’s unharmed. You collapse.

@the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @zheezs14 @ijustwannaread2k19 @romanogersendgame

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you

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chicago-geniza · 3 years ago

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well i intended to go for a nice evening walk, ended up having a panic attack, ordering a couple of cocktails at the bougie bar, joining a jam session with a bunch of old hippies on the logan green (one of them gave me a handpainted wooden medallion which seems to be carved out of tree bark, strung on a length of yarn???), met a crustpunk train-hopping dude in town for the month (& his dog, in a leather-studded harness) who's lived in 45/50 states & a 44 yr old guy everyone called "the wizard" wearing a tattered, patch-covered robe who shares most of my parents' conspiracy theories & considers himself a latter-day prophet, he bought us sorbet & ice cream, wound up hanging out with them & staying up all night at their indescribably eclectic, cluttered, blood-spattered (!!!) apartment, belonging to 44 yr old guy's art curator father & decorated accordingly, smoking m*th & listening to music & talking (or rather listening to them rant/rave/recount stories from their incredibly wild lives), i gave them advice on applying for unemployment & medicaid & how to appear compliant enough w/ carceral psychiatric intervention so they won't section you without actually submitting to forced medication or institutionalization, especially if they assign you a case worker & do regular "wellness checks." also how to pass off certain aspects of behavioral dysregulation as executive dysfunction, get them to pay for an adhd evaluation, get an adderall IR scrip, sell the 30 mg pills (cite body weight, high doses of other psych meds as reason for higher dose; look sincere; play to systemic biases toward cis white men, unfortunately), & use the cash to buy m*th, if they'd prefer to keep doing that. you can also pass positive psychotic symptoms--agitation etc.--off as severe anxiety, especially if you have a history of trauma, & they will give you benzodiazepines. it is in their best interest to keep you docile, i.e. tranquilized, particularly if your past convictions & involuntary institutionalizations revolve around a pattern of aggressive behavior, & that's On The Record/there's a paper trail. (e.g. one dude got arrested trying to keep cars away from an injured bird on the road, some genre of raptor i think (???) by threatening them with a shopping cart, not hitting them, but like, running at them as if to collide then feinting at the last minute so they'd swerve out of the way. not the safest or most effective maneuver, lotta reckless endangerment, but the motivation was admirable. probably put the fear of god into some drivers, though. he doesn't seem to have, like, impulse control.) it's a lot easier & you have fewer run-ins with the cops if you game the system & appear cooperative. they gave me this coat, which "just showed up in their apartment one day," like i did. 44 yr old guy walked me back to apartment, stole a street sign & tore down a real estate sign en route, lori lightfoot did indeed take down the pride flag in front of her house on july 1st & replace it with an appropriately patriotic american flag, i walked past the idling plainclothes cop car & another marked police vehicle with their Mayoral Guarding Detail inside at like 4.30 am smoking a menthol cigarette (not inhaling), high on m*th, draped in a neon anime jacket, in the company of a visibly insane, unshaven & unshorn middle-aged man in a technicolor patchwork trenchcoat, holding a lit cigarette in one hand & an upside-down traffic cone in the other, which he was using as an ad hoc amplifier for a noise track playing on my phone. he was also carrying the stolen real estate banner &, inexplicably, a stack of mail. i gave him my old backup phone (no SIM card & doesn't hold a charge long, ancient, but still works), since neither he nor the other dude have phones (cops took them), also one hybrid edible for each of them, as a thanks for the m*th & the kindness. their hearts are in the right place but they have some fucked-up beliefs about "reverse racism" being real, while also saying in the same breath that you can tell our country is irredeemable by the way it continues to

treat black people. we were discussing medical weed for seizures on medicaid & 44 yr old guy mentioned one of his close friends, a black epileptic woman, whose seizures were frequent & severe enough they prevented her from working. then he added, in apparent bemusement, they she hadn't spoken to him in some time, & he wondered why. a little while later he relayed their last conversation & i was like "my dude, i can say with 100% certainty she is not talking to you because you said some *appallingly*, jaw-droppingly racist shit & did not even realize it was racist." then i, comma, a white person, explained to this man that he literally thought of their exchange as, like, an abstract argument over insignificant ideas, a theoretical exercise, & therefore considered it simply a smug gotcha to "counter" hotep theories about egyptian origin by claiming that "if that's true, american slavery & the oppression of black people in america are divine retribution for the enslavement of the jews in ancient egypt, an eye for an eye & a deserved punishment." like, first of all, what the actual fuck, if i were that woman i would also never speak to you again, second of all there's the collapse of historical time & mythical time, history & exegesis, an assumption that rests on spurious claims of biblical literalism (zionist colonization logic, btw! him: what's exegesis? what's zionism? me: never mind, not the point. exegesis is the interpretation of religious texts in a religious CONtext, in this case what you would likely call the hebrew bible.)--but most importantly it is 100% irrelevant to this discussion whether or not black americans are Actually Factually descendended from ancient egypt! you just told this woman to her face that the ancestry she claims, of which she's proud, is the reason & justification for SLAVERY & BLACK SUFFERING--not only that, but that if it WERE true, than black people would DESRVE to suffer, by DIVINE DECREE. you are trying to force her to abdicate her claim on this heritage by putting her in a position where she'd be forced to concede complicity in her people's historical & present-day persecution, oppression, & essentially the existence of structural racism. & using The Figural Jew as a rhetorical cudgel to bludgeon her into this corner. what a despicable thing to say. like, he hadn't considered it from her perspective at all, & once he groked why the comment itself was, like, unforgivable (idk, maybe she's more forgiving; she has a virtue-name), i started socratic-method-ing him through why it was particularly unforgivable for *him* to say to *her*--the individual is not responsible for the systems from they benefit, but they are imbricated in them, they are implicated when they actively perpetuate & uphold them, even with speech acts. & finally gave the same "there is no such thing as reverse racism because racism is not an individual act, it is an institutional, systemic phenomenon, & it is an ideology, one which individual acts can bear out or be in accordance with, & to which individuals can subscribe (this bearing it out in their behavior, in their institutional roles, in their interpersonal interactions--here i gave & solicited examples of each) or be subject (also gave & solicited examples). m*th makes me very good at Explaining clearly & he was surprisingly receptive--like, it was astonishing that it had not occurred to him??? but it hadn't, the same way it hadn't occurred to my mother, & she interpreted it as "reverse racist" when their next-door neighbor called her the "white devil" for disputing their property line, & i had to be like "ok but if you called in a random third party to mediate in lily-white [city], oregon, where white supremacists openly drive down the street in pickup trucks with swastika armbands, whose side do you think they would take, statistically speaking, in your property dispute. that's why racism is systemic & institutional, & your rude neighbor calling you a name over a disagreement does not constitute 'reverse racism,' because 'reverse racism' by definition cannot

exist." now this dude wants to like, read books, so i gotta get him some entry-level Intro To Racism primers??? how did i end up here, but better me than his black epileptic (ex-)friend, i guess??? jesus christ. both of these guys have the most chaotic, reactionary politics in a potpourri with these deep commitments to abolition & mutual aid & a kind of proto-anarchist consciousness, none of which would be called by those names, but all of which is borne out in practice & in the politics of everyday life. they remind me a LOT of my parents. i'm loath to imagine how they'd internalize my stepdad's rambling, street-preacher-style libertarian lectures. probably go out & buy guns & invest in gold on the stock market & double down on the conviction that free speech is being curtailed & individual rights are in jeopardy because you can no longer unleash a barrage of harassment against some guy on the street because you think he looked at you funny. these claustrophobic convictions, like the space to express oneself is getting smaller & smaller every day, *other people* are taking it away from you, suffocating you on all sides with their offense demanding your silence, they are *making* the walls close in--when in fact it's more like a holodeck. you're a member of the Hegemonic Group, afforded the privilege of the default, so you don't question the vast verdant expanse that is your domain--ah, Free Speech, the sun never sets on the empire of ~uncensored expression, you can say whatever you want whenever you want without facing consequences because you control all the organs that mete out consequences & you have also determined that those groups who might be adversely affected by your words--emotionally OR materially--are not, well...of consequence. but of course the vast verdant domain is an illusion, photons & forcefields, held together by the all-encompassing TOTALITY of the dominant group's hegemony, power, etc. once that power begins to redistribute throughout the system--however unevenly, however incrementally, however slowly--as even the smallest pieces are appropriated by those deemed inconsequential, who have endured years of systemic, material, institutional violence that allowed the dominant group to become dominant & retain its dominant position--once those 'inconsequential' groups speak up & say "actually, these words bear an indelible imprint of the violence enacted upon us, these words are the legacy of that violence, these words are a tacit endorsement of the ideology behind that violence, which classifies us as subhuman, & even if *you* can't hear those echoes, the words broadcast on two historical frequencies, so now that we're able to broadcast on a frequency *you* can hear, we request you find other language, & consider the implications of the words you've been using for years." well--once The Subaltern Speaks, the dominant group loses its 'innocence,' & becomes aware the vast verdant expanse of language is an illusion of infinite space, aware of the four holodeck walls pressing in behind the simulacrum of the horizon, & suddenly "what one can say without negative consequences"--largely social, sometimes, rarely, if social media goes viral, professional--feels much more claustrophobic. so they get angry. & some of them are just bigots, obviously, but some of them--like my parents, &, even, this weirdly well-intentioned m*thhead who said one of the most shockingly racist things i've heard in my life & *honestly didn't understand why it was racist*, is really riled up about free speech & individual rights, hates the government, hates "FANG" (facebook amazon netflix google) & has a bunch of dystopian conspiracy theories about data harvesting & personal information that only miss the mark in that they get too nefariously biopolitical (billionaires want to put microchips in everybody for surveillance to monitor our movements & sell us more stuff; they don't need to, they already use our phone location & browsing habits to generate the algorithm & sell the information to ad companies lol, it's digital& cast a

single illuminati figure in the role of comic book villain, controlling the operation behind the scenes like an evil puppetmaster (classic conspiracy fare; again, we gotta take that energy, that suspicion, the understanding that they are being taken advantage of & tricked, the idea that power & capital & resources are concentrated among a very small number of people, however it's not an individual wealthy villain with a desire for world domination who wants to turn Free Americans into microchipped drones, it's a *class* of people--or rather several classes, but *who those people are as individuals does not matter*. if you guillotined bill gates, another billionaire would take his place. bill gates qua bill gates is not the problem. it is classes of people who control the means of production & own property & profit enormously from exploiting the labor of a desperate, rapidly increasing underclass, i.e. from the system as it is. therefore it is in their interest to maintain the status quo, because it serves them. 'the rich get richer, the poor get poorer.' the middle class gradually ceases to exist. if you want to compound it by race, consider the GI bill as an example - you learn about it as the leg up that enabled thousands of WWII vets to buy houses, enabling them to enter the middle class. hundreds of thousands of third-gen middle class white americans still reap the structural, socioeconomic benefits of their grandparents' initial upward mobility, including,, very tangibly, those selfsame houses, which can be inherited & then rented out as a second property if the children or grandchildren accrue enough money to buy their own properties. but only about 100 black vets got approved for homeownership loans, despite the staggering numbers of black soldiers who enlisted & applied through the GI bill. anyway! the impulses are there, & they're only being funneled into conspiracy thinking because that makes intuitive sense on a narrative level. these guys have a high school education; so does my stepdad. their reading habits are...eclectic, sporadic, pretty much dictated by occasional recommendations & like, little free libraries around the neighborhood. it's both interesting & frustrating to see like - hey, here are these people, we agree on a lot of things, they're earnest & open & want to learn & would give their neighbor the shirt off their backs as a matter of principle. they'd give a *stranger* the shirt off their backs; they'd share whatever they had. even what chores there are in their collective--they live with two other guys--(dumpster diving, walking the dog, tidying up the apartment) are allocated by ability & inclination. they made advance plans to look after the dog & their roommate with War PTSD on the 4th of july if the fireworks upset them, jokingly called the dog an emotional support animal. you give them the tools, the reading, talk to them like normal people with a stake in society--like, imagine a society that would have a stake in people like you instead of criminalizing you & consigning you to the margins! that's already *political imagination* because anyone who occupies a marginalized position will have their existence politicized, whether they want this or not, so better to become a self-aware, self-reflexive political subject, no?--talk *with* them because tbh i am them, i'm just better at situational masking & also i am very very afraid of cops so i only damage property in groups during planned political actions (not spontaneously, because i feel a flash of rage at my neighborhood gentrifying, & simply do not have a superego, so i tear down the real estate sign for the fancy new apartment complex in a fit of pique, because in this house we believe that spontaneity can & should be developed into class consciousness, again, the seeds of which are there in the initial trigger for the spontaneous reaction, i.e. anger at gentrification. not opposed to a little direct action, but they're just gonna put up a new sign tomorrow, it doesn't advance your agenda or hinder the gentrifiers' progress. now, if

you sabotaged the construction site for the new apartment buildings & painted a few potent symbols + graffiti'd a pithy, written statement expressing your opposition to gentrification generally & these apartments specifically? in a prominent place, large font, eye level, visible & legible from oh, a block away? maybe as a member of a collective, your neighbors, perhaps? & you could sign it "[neighborhood] or [block] residents" to pack more of a punch, the power of a crowd speaking in unison to say "not OUR home, you predatory developers"? that's no longer spontaneous, impulsive, affective violence, & it's also no longer an individual--acting alone leaves you vulnerable. again--i didn't just *intuit* that he tore the sign down because he was mad about gentrification, i asked, in a genuinely curious tone, not at all accusatory, no hint of reprimand or censure, just...interested, "why did you do that?" & he was like "it made me fucking mad." & i was like "what about it made you mad? the apartments? how come?" & he thought about it for a minute & explained. i'm not sure *he* necessarily made the conscious connection until prompted. idk, i know people talk a lot about the fact that breitbart & drudge report are free while NYT & "all the news fit to print" is paywalled, & q-pilled covid hoax sites are free while "reputable" pandemic coverage & public health guidelines & explanations of mRNA vaccines for a lay audience are paywalled & that's true but also We Live In A Society & if you talk to the wingnuts who AREN'T that way because of any far-right ideology, a lot of them are just...autodidacts without much formal education but a lot of raw intelligence that leads to analyzing The Big Picture & trying to deduce a pattern, find a framework that explains why the world is the way it is, profoundly frustrated, deeply aware of American society's, universalized & figured as the world's, exceptional unfairness & cruelty, & *that can be redirected* with reading, discussion, prompting critical thought, introducing community connections, & perhaps most importantly for this genre of person, getting them to see patterns at work in terms of systems & structures rather than individuals, letting go of American individualism's explanatory power & belief in its liberatory potential (see: the sort of ad hoc libertarianism that goes hand-in-glove with much conspiracy thinking, both stemming from 1) mistrusting the government, & 2) ultimate freedom of the individual as the most sacred value, therefore it is what all enemies want to take away), outlining positive, actionable goals rather than just ambient suspicion & anger at authority, & figuring out how those goals can be accomplished more effectively by an organized collective (but this will ultimately benefit the individual). If the world isn't run by a shadowy cabal, if you begin to understand the structures responsible & how they manifest even on the scale of your block (e.g.!!! predatory developers buying up properties during a pandemic, tearing down affordable housing to build expensive condos on the lot, or giving old buildings a "spit and polish" so they can double the rent, pricing all the current residents out, not to mention all the little local businesses, almost all mexican & run by the mexican families who live here, that give our block its culture & will get pushed out by boutique coffee shops & the like, catering to a more affluent & almost certainly whiter clientele)--you can, in fact, change the world, something both of them repeatedly referred to as their purpose on earth. it may not be as a maverick figure, one against an army, but strength in numbers is an aphorism for a reason.

anyway! thse guys were also really weird about jews, in the philosemitic way conspiracy theorists of a certain stripe often are. the itinerant vagabond guy gave me one of his drawings; it's really lovely. i'm going to give them "are prisons obsolete?" & "the wretched of the earth" & some david graeber. 44 yr old guy has this idea that society is atomized & people aren't connected to each other & have lost the willingness or the ability to communicate with each other, also that the overreach of authority has driven some people to violence, & that makes the world feel unsafe to everyone else. he feels guilty because he is acutely aware that language, when wielded adroitly & intentionally, always has the capacity to manipulate; he is afraid of succumbing to the temptation, because he senses the coercive power of language within himself. the other guy was mostly quiet but said 44 yr old guy is one of the best friends he's ever had. he thinks animals are able to sense emotions and to heal, & he thinks they can mediate between people who have become too isolated, who have forgotten humans' innate ability to forge connections, approach others as social creatures seeking to bond instead of mistrustful, apprehensive, rejecting overtures of friendship because they expect subterfuge, or propriety has evolved to deem such overtures inappropriate outside of strictly delineated, artificially orchestrated contexts. deviation from the norm is not permitted. & back again to policing. they have an idea called "the omega family," omega for the end, a group of like-minded people who come together, who encounter each other serendipitously (predicted through auspicious auguries & recognized on sight through a constellation of signs & wonders, because of course we are all psychotic here, it was nice to just be psychotic & discuss these things like they were normal lol), & serve as catalysts to each other's "personal truth." anyway this is why i don't go out when i'm crazy, i always end up in situations like this, see also: the last time i did m*th, in a pizza hut bathroom in tallinn with an art student from glascow named muhammad ali (he went by ali), the son of white muslim converts--we thought it was c*ke but it got lost in translation & that's how i figured out i had adhd. later i got [redacted] by a filmmaker from kazan & he gave me his business card afterward for some reason, which was extremely funny. thankfully these dudes were better behaved. one of them even gave a speech about how men shouldn't rape people??? & also how our society shouldn't construct women as universal victims because in doing so it makes victimhood almost compulsory & shoehorns women into a victim role as part & parcel of womanhood? i was like yes my dude you are almost there, read the essay "abject feminism." (i did not tell them i was trans bc i wasn't sure how that would shake down, to be honest; couldn't get a read on it. did tell them i was gay & they respected it, though one did say he dated a lesbian once, & i explained that many men feel compelled to interject with an anecdote relating an exception to the rule or insist that they will he the exception to the rule, & it's really just bad manners, not even getting into the bad politics. he took it on the chin & talked about how the girl in question came home to find her partner dead of an overdose & his wife had just died of MS, so their relationship was more about grief & comfort than sexual attraction. i was like that's really, really sad, & it's wonderful that you were able to be there for each other at a time of such staggering loss, & i am a person who totally understands what you mean to communicate, but if a lesbian tells you they're a lesbian & you reply that you once dated a lesbian & they get offended & instead of responding with contrition or correction you elaborate on the tragic backstory of the relationship as though that explains the circumstances in which a self-proclaimed lesbian would date a cis man, other lesbians *will* deck you, or at the very least not take you, an unwashed white guy in

his 40s who isn't neurotypical & sits way too close for social convention in a way that could easily be construed as a come-on, in good faith.) tl;dr made some new friends, did some good drügs (i much prefer smoking m*th to snorting it, basically like purer, more potent adderall, & as such will not be doing it again for a LONG time, because i enjoy it FAR too much; slices through the brain fog & the chronic fatigue & the joint/bone pain, makes me able to pay attention, follow the thread of a conversation, actually be *interested* & want to ask *questions* & expand, build, encourage my interlocutor to elaborate, place more kal-toh pieces until the conversation shimmers into a three-dimensional shape, instead of being listless & exhausted & disengaged & *bored* all the time, so obviously i would get addicted immediately if given the opportunity, & i've known this forever lol)--now going to hydrate, refill pill case, write some emails, & meet C at the beach! not how i expected to reboot my brain, but it works! also putting them on limited facebook view because i try to keep some groups of people in my life quarantined from each other & that includes 1) my relatives & my academic ~colleagues (ne'er the twain shall meet), 2) my exes & my family, 3) my relatives, colleagues, & uh. a couple of lovely, but extremely psychotic dudes with very long criminal records i met while doing hard drugs

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years ago

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I’m really really sorry to be disrespecting your wishes, but you just struck such a nerve I had to say something. I’m going to use America as an example. Slavery still exists in capitalism. In America they put people in jail for minor reasons and then because the jail is privately owned most of the time, they do everything in their power to keep them there. They then use these people to do free labour, a famous example being prisoners in California being forced to risk their lives and fight the wild fires. This short video explains it in basics if you’re interested (https://youtu.be/gX2R0b_mqrQ)

Slavery in America also didn’t “end” because capitalism let it. It stopped because in the civil war America needed more fighters (slaves volunteered when they knew it meant freedom) and a reason for England to stay out of the war, so they gave the fight a just cause. In fact the reason America was among the last to stop blatant slavery was because people didn’t want the economy failing from a sudden lack of free labour. Capitalism is what kept slavery around then, and still does now. Here’s a kinda long but interesting video summing up the American civil war (https://youtu.be/tsxmyL7TUJg)

Hate communism all you want, your reasons are 100% just. But please try not to spread misinformation. The reason Americans die everyday from easily preventable causes, is because they’ve been brainwashed to refuse anything even slightly to do with communism. People literally have to pay to hold their child after birth because they don’t have a socialised health care system. Here’s a short video on that if you’re interested (https://youtu.be/Kll-yYQwmuM)

(Also people really can’t move up and down the capitalism ladder without the connections you get from being at the top of it. People wouldn’t be homeless or working minimum wage jobs if they could just gain a better job through “hard work”)

Again I’m sorry to be sending you this on a platform where you want to chill, so don’t feel it necessary to respond, but I just couldn’t stay quiet.

I did say I didn't want to talk about this anymore. You clearly put thought into this ask and it isn't just another person raving about something. So I will make ONE exception. This is the last post I will talk about this.

So I am not upset with you sending me this. If anything I am glad you took sources and explained your reasoning. So I will comment on this with Equal respect and my view. I will be adding a read more because I don't want to force any opinions and views down people’s throats. I am completely fine with you disagreeing with me. I just want people to be rational and come to their own conclusions.

Lets take this point by point.

Before starting, I will agree that Capitalism as a concept didn't end slavery, I was saying the governments with that system did. Albeit not directly because it.

1.The For Profit prison system is messed up and it is filled with Corrupt and Bigotted individuals that exploit it. Sadly it isn't classified as Slavery, as the prisoners (while grossly underpaid and exploited) are technically paid and given room and board.) and unless they are on death row, can be released. This prison system is still better then Communist systems, which effectively work their prisoners (who are locked up unjustly by vast margins) to death, or worse. Which is the main point I was making when I made my post (though it was more of an emotional rant.) I will in this response be more calm and explain my rational. Communism always results in more death and is just as corrupt. So in a matter of comparison, I would take being a prisoner in a capitalist society rather than one in a communist society.

2. Capitalism ended slavery in the sense that a Capitalist society had a war and the side with the more advanced technology and willpower managed to win the civil war and establish a written in the constitution law, that made it so people can not legally own slaves. And then at some point most capitalist societies made laws that outlawed slavery. (Of course the prison system is an exploited loophole, which I would 100% to have fixed).

3. The health care system is also a corrupt mess. America’s healthcare system has been exploited by Big Pharma and overcharges its people to insane degrees which I personally hate. And I would not be against some sort of baseline care for everyone. But the problem is that Communism health care isn't what people imagine it would be. It removes people’s choice on the matter. Also socialist Healthcare in places such as Canada do still provide Private Health insurance. So I wouldn't be entirely against having that, (but half the Canadians I know say the system sucks greatly) I think as long as the choice is there I wouldn't mind it.

4. Communist and Socialist healthcare systems do however vastly slow down medical innovation and in the case of Communism, keeps the better care for those at the top. The capitalist system at least allows for some sort of charity system that allows for people to donate, work around certain things to get care and people that can find a way to pay can pay. I wouldn't mind having a baseline healthcare for everyone, but the problem is there is such a thing as limited resources. Even in a PERFECT Social healthcare system, it would still have limited resources and involve the government deciding on who gets what and who has to die. Which is kind of f***ed up.

5. About having connections to move up the capitalist ladder. That is literally the same everywhere. Life is about who you know, I personally believe a meritocracy would be better but that aint how it works. That won't change regardless of the system your in. Though I am the child of immigrants that literally busted their asses when they were dirt poor to be able to provide for my sister and me. They moved up. I will say it is a lot harder nowadays, but people have done it. Hell, I know my buddy is doing it right now. He is working his way through school and studying programing. I am proud of him.

6. As someone who has personally worked at food banks and Homeless shelters. There would still be homeless people. There is a lot of mental illness in the homeless community. Supplying housing does not fix the situation because they don't know how to take care of a house. Also the fact that some people also don't want to live in a place. Everyone paints it as black and white, but the whole homeless crisis has a lot of layers to it and I do believe that at least in this system, they would still be alive. Back in Cuba and In the soviet union the mentally ill were executed...

Lastly, all of the things you listed are valid to an extent, but the problem is that the issues you are referring too come from CORRUPTION of a system not the system itself. I do think I agree with your statements on the flaws of capitalism. I have my own personal beefs with the system, but I am enough of a realist to know that full on socialism ALWAYS ends in authoritarianism. Whether its communism or Facism, it ends poorly.

#communism #capitialism #flawed systems #Last post on this

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years ago

Text

Ignite (Redux); Ch. 3 of 5ish

Pairings: Kylo x Reader

Genre/Ratings: T for intensely injured reader

Words: 2700

Summary: After an accident aboard Starkiller Base, someone unexpected proves invaluable.

This is a rewrite of Ignite, which I published two-ish years ago. Same story, incredibly expanded upon. Enjoy!

Requested Tags: @jellyfishpoptart, @starfishfaerie, @swagaliciouspupper, @jessiejunebug, @irrelevantbutembarrassing, @drawlfoy, @sunflowershine-s, @ben-plus-rey, @ucy161

Burning. Scorching. Writhing. You’re a wraith consumed by flames, ashes decorating your body like the tattoos of ancient tribes on planets unknown. You rise, and something screams- you don’t know what, but it sounds melodic and desperate and something like fear

You heave yourself awake, hands clenched around your blankets like you might rip the fabric to shreds. Every deep breath tugs at the bandages wrapping your chest and torso; the discomfort of the wounds compounded by restriction and sweat and heat. Two weeks have passed since your release from medical; despite swallowing pills by the bottleful, bathing in thick creams that do nothing to quench the dry scorch rolling though your body, and daily trips to medbay, nothing seems to be getting better. If anything, they’re getting worse.

The pain is constant, even in your sleep. Your joints feel as though they’re made of stone. Comfort is a thing of the past. You haven’t worked up the courage to tend to your bandages yourself, so you had yourself to the nurses on the daily and have them do it for you. Their hands are much more careful than yours would be, and their faces mercifully impassive. They can look at you with a neutrality that you can’t muster even after an hour of staring in the mirror.

You wonder if you’ll ever get used to this new body. This new you. The alien you.

The crackling of the comm above your bunk startles you out of your half-lucid thoughts, sending sparks through your nerves. Do you answer? You know you’ve been marked in the system as on medical leave- no one’s let you so much as pick up a wrench or get within ten feet of a circuitry panel. It’s maddening, but secretly you don’t know if your wrecked hands would even be capable of the dexterity your job requires. “This is Y/L/N. Go ahead.” You try to keep the strain out of your voice.

“Y/N Y/L/N has been requested, effectively immediately.”

“Request to defer.” You’re exhausted, in pain, and due for yet another round of medication in- you glance at the clock- under an hour. Normally you’d never defer a request- if a senior mechanic is being called upon, something is seriously wrong- but currently it doesn’t look as though you’ll be able to put on a proper shirt, much less service whatever’s fallen apart. The doctor said you’re on one of their do-not-call lists, so this is probably just a mistake…?

“Negative. Y/N Y/L/N was requested specifically; medical override. Your presence is required as soon as possible.”

Motherfucking bantha shit- “Message received. Please stand by.”

Okay. How are you going to do this?

Putting on actual pants is a no; you can’t do up the buttons or zippers. Your hair stays in a messy ponytail only barely kept out of your eyes. A plain tank hugs your body and separates the bandages wrapping your back from the rest of the world, but does nothing to hide the bulkiness of the gauze- you grab a shirt you borrowed from your friend who’s at least three sizes bigger than you. It’s roomy enough to slide over your hips so you can avoid raising your shoulders, and though it hangs off you like a tunic, it ensures there’s nothing to rub against irritated skin.

One, two, three- you grit your teeth as your heels hit the floor, sending a jarring jolt all the way up your spine. Your nerves burn, your cheeks flush. Shoes, shoes… yeah, that’s a hopeless case. Eventually you just slide your feet into them and tuck the loose laces into the side.

You grab your tool belt, wincing slightly at its weight, and belt it at the loosest possible loop so it hangs precariously off your hips and avoids your owner back. You look a right mess, and no respectable First Order officer would ever go out looking how you do now- but if someone on their high horse is going to call you off of goddamn medical leave, then they’ll take what they’re gonna get.

You can practically feel the pity radiating off the troopers who were sent to fetch you. Their masks are expressionless, but you can see the one to the left tilt his head a bit as he takes in you and all your patheticness. “Lead the way,” you say gruffly, not in the mood for questions or anything even remotely resembling sympathy.

They start out at a pace that would make you hustle on the best of days; now, it’s basically impossible to keep up. Your bruised pride won’t let you speak up and tell them to slow the hell down, so they only notice you’re not right behind them once they’re three corridors away. They double back and find you with a grimace contorted across your face, trying desperately not to look as frustrated as you feel. You amble behind them as best you can- it isn’t agony, yet, but the pain is slowly ratcheting up in increments with every step you take, and you really just want whatever goose chase this is to be over with so you can go back to silently screaming into your pillow.

It’s early, so thought the base never sleeps there, are at least slightly fewer people walking by to stare at you. Gradually, you recognize the sector your escorts are shuffling you towards- command’s private quarters. Figures. Only command would have a high enough clearance to override medical leave, and also they’re big enough dicks to not care enough in the first place. You probably got dragged out of your bunk just to tell someone to turn their datapad off and on again, never mind the fact that that is not your department and someone in goddamn command should be able to figure that out for themselves- the thought practically makes you livid, and gives you enough strength to go up to the door you’re dropped in off at and bang your fist against the metal. “Engineering!”

Your voice echoes through the empty hallway and prompts absolutely no response from said door in front of you. Shit, that hurt. You put pressure onto the side of your fist with your other hand, tears nearly springing to your eyes. “Engineering!” I did not drag my ass out of bed in enough pain to make Captain Phasma take a day off for you to not be home! “Hello?”

Miraculously, the door finally retracts and grants you entrance to a room entirely shrouded in dark. There’s no one there to greet you. Cautiously, you take a few steps inside, letting your fingers trail against the wall beside you to give you some sense of direction. “Um. Hello? You requested Y/N Y/L/N from engineering?” Your eyes adjust with the help of starlight streaming through an unshaded port. It’s huge- large enough to be installed on one of the observation decks rather than personal quarters- and gives you an impressive view of the atmosphere beyond. You aren’t sure if it’s comforting or unsettling.

The room itself is almost bare- no décor or knickknacks or personal items, just a single bed centered on the far wall. Someone- or something- is curled up amongst its sheets, shifting almost imperceptibly here and there. “Hello? Sir? Or- ma’am? You requested me?”

“Yes.”

Sir, then. His voice is so low and hoarse you can barely understand him. Briefly, you wonder if you should ask if he’s okay, or if you should call medical- then you realize you’re the one who should be going to medical right about now, and he’s the one who couldn’t call anyone else to fix his problem, and then you get impatient again. “Do you have something that needs to be fixed, then?”

All at once, the man sits up, dark eyes glinting and hands frantically combing through unruly hair. “You.”

That’s… not what you were expecting. Even though you can’t hardly make out his features, you can feel the intensity of his gaze practically burning through you. In other circumstances, you’d try to be a little more polite to someone who so obviously outranks you, but in your current state all you manage is an unintelligent “…huh?”

“You. You need to be fixed- how can you stand it, it feels like I’m dying and it doesn’t stop-” his rant propels him forwards just a bit, enough to where you can begin to see his face: angular, sharp nose and jawline, cheekbones that practically reflect the light. His eyes are haunted and exhausted, pleading with you to give him answers when you don’t even know what the question is.

“I’m sorry? I- I don’t understand. Do you need medical?”

He puts a careful hand on his chest, near the intersection of his shoulder- right where one particular hotspot is causing you a tricky amount of pain. “I can hear you- screaming in your sleep. I can feel it.”

What the fuck?

“I’m in your head, and I can’t. Get. Out.” He grits his teeth and presses his fingers to his temple, like he’s trying to keep his skull from splitting apart. Your heartbeat quickens, unsure what sort of madman’s ravings you’ve just walked into. You start to back towards the exit. “You’re crying, even now. The bandages are suffocating you.”

And that stops you. Because they are suffocating you- they feel like a vice wrapped around your middle, constantly limiting your air as though you’re caught in a downpour. Something in this man’s voice- how desperate it is, how it sounds like he’s a frayed rope about to snap- makes you unequivocally believe that what you’re feeling right now; he feels it too.

But how the hell is that even possible? “I’m sorry, do I- know you?”

There’s a huff in the dark. “You don’t recognize me. Of course you don’t. How could you?” Another sharp flare of pain rolls through you, and as you wince the man groans in unison. He stands, restless, throwing aside already rumpled sheets. He’s been awake for a while. Silhouetted in the light, towering over you even in plain sleep clothes, you catch a glimpse of something in your mind’s eye- the man in front of you, but draped in a dark cloak and thundering down the halls.

You reflexively take a step back. “C-Commander Ren?” But even that sounds so foreign in your mouth, so when he turns to you you try again- “Kylo…?”

“Y/N.”

So many things are flitting through your mind it’s hard to pin down a single thought. This is Commander Kylo Ren, in nothing but a sleep shirt and pants. Kylo Ren negated your medical leave and called you to his quarters. Kylo Ren is very tall, has dark curly hair, brown eyes, and a razor jaw. Kylo Ren is inside your head. You feel more comfortable calling him Kylo than Commander Ren. “You’re in my head? How? Why-?”

“I don’t know!” He begins to pace, and in his movements you can easily see the imposing Commander who stalks the corridors every day. You can imagine his mask over his face and his hands fisted in leather gloves- he’s definitely one in the same. “Ever since the explosion-” his eyes go a bit wild- “I could sense the moment it happened; the moment before it happened… the spark caught fire.”

You grunt, still in disbelief. “I know. I was there.”

“I couldn’t stop it. I got there as soon as I could, but everything was in flames- you were already-”

“Stop it?” You shake your head. “It was an accident. I’m an engineer, shit happens. This is-” you grimace a bit, trying to subtly roll your shoulder- “a little more critical than most, admittedly. I don’t even know why you’d be on the flight deck, unless-”

“Stop it.” He’s close enough now that you can pick out the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his gait, the furrow in his brow. Any arguments you have die on your tongue. “You’re in pain. I can’t stand it.”

“I-” You have absolutely no idea what to do with this information. The intimidating Jedi Killer who terrifies everyone- except for you- day in and day out, the one whose name is infamous across the galaxy and whose turn of mood could send any stormtrooper running- knows your name? And cares? He knew you were hurt and he came running.

“I can help.”

You shake your head, trying to dispel your confusion. “You can what? How?”

“I can help,” he repeats, so insistent you can’t help but listen to him. “I can make you- I can let you sleep.”

“You-” oh. Oh. Your eyes widen just a bit. “With the…?” You drag a hand through the air, a poor imitation of what you’ve seen him do when he uses the Force. To you, it’s basically fairy tales, bedtime stories of heroes and villains from your childhood. You’ve never seen it up close. You’ve never even really considered that the man you sometimes try to chat with casually in the hallway probably has more power in one finger than you ever will. The man who’s standing in front of you right now. Who can feel that you’re hurting.

That earns you just a hint of a smile. It tugs on the corner of his lips. You’re surprised at how much it softens his face and rearranges him into something more human. “Yes. With that.”

“Will it hurt?”

“No! I would- I would never do anything to hurt you. It would be just like-”

“-falling asleep,” you finish. Your head tilts to the side, considering this strange new promise, but the movement sends a ripple of pain down your spine and you almost start to tear up. Stars, you’re tired. You’re so tired. And you want to not hurt, to not be in pain. You just want to stop. But… “why are you helping me?”

Now he ducks his head, avoiding both your gaze and your query. “You- helped me, as well. I won’t be indebted to anyone.”

There’s so many unsaid things hanging on the end of his sentence. You can’t tell if they’re malicious or not. You suppose if he wanted to hit you, he’s had plenty of opportunity before now. Things can’t get any worse. “Okay.”

He almost seems surprised. “Okay?”

You nod. “What’s going to happen?”

“It’ll be just like this.” He touches his pointer and middle finger against his temple. “Nothing more.”

You glance down at where the two of you stand in the center of the room. “Should I sit…?”

He holds out a hand and you take it. Leads you to the bed, where you sit on the edge. He must see the anxiety in your eyes, because to your surprise, he actually kneels in front of you so he can meet your gaze. “I promise- I swear. I won’t hurt you.”

“I believe you,” you whisper, and as the words leave your mouth you realize you do.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, and lets the other wander up to your cheek- slowly, like he doesn’t want to spook a wounded animal. His thumb brushes some hair behind your ear, and you find yourself holding your breath. You aren’t sure about this. About any of this. But if it means it could stop, even for just an hour-

The sensation is akin to floating underwater- everything is muted and heavy, the light refracting into something softer than moonlight. It’s blessedly cool, better than any balm concocted in medical. For the first time, your scars don’t feel as though they’re still aflame. You want to sob with relief. Briefly, you realize that you have no way to ensure you don’t land in a heap on the floor, but just before the water envelops you- there’s a voice. It’s calm and reassuring and strangely familiar- and you realize it must be Kylo. Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.

#kyle ren #kylo ren fic #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo x reader #kylo x you #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars Fic #star wars angst #star wars fluff #kylo ren angst #kylo ren fluff #reader insert #injured reader

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marysfoxmask · 4 years ago

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I've always HC'd Colin to be a victim of what we would call now Munchausen By Proxy on the part of his staff - they never said he could go out, kept telling him he was sick, never told him he could even leave bed, gave him treatments that he didn't need - it's classic medical abuse. Colin is ten, and calling his neuroses his own when they were definitely created by the people around him lets everyone else at Misselthwaite off too easy.

Though I do agree with your main point that having a disabled character who *stays* disabled is very important and Dickon's disability shouldn't have been written out (though in my head he has a severe facial deformity bc of the way Burnett described him as like carved out of wood.”

- @chasingtheskyline

i’ve heard that munchausen’s by proxy is a pretty common diagnosis for colin’s sickness, and i think it does fit to an extent, but i believe munchausen’s by proxy is considered so dangerous because it’s intentional on behalf of the caregiver, whereas i think mrs. medlock and the misselthwaite staff are genuinely helpless and just trying to do what they can with the circumstances they’ve been given. it’s especially easy nowadays to ignore the class hierarchy at work here—mrs. medlock and co. are beholden to mr. craven, who’s abandoned his duties as father of colin and master of misselthwaite. they can’t criticize his negligent parenting to his face because he’s likely to have them sacked for their impudence (folks like mrs. medlock and martha would always be aware of that risk). they’re also laboring under period era difficulties like lack of support for premature babies (more on that later), psychology being only a budding field at this time, and lack of education in general (neville craven is the only person educated in matters of health and medicine located locally, and even he’s busy with other patients in thwaite, given he’s not a rich man and has to make money elsewhere). i don’t envy the stress and strain the servants at misselthwaite are under in regards to colin and his fluctuating health.

while i definitely agree that, as adults, they should have put their collective foot down and made more of an effort to help him, they’re still beholden to a classist system where the plain common sense of susan sowerby would never reach “master” colin’s ears unless mary, with her lack of regard for what’s proper or not, intervened. it just wasn’t done back then—even if mrs. medlock and co. had doubts, they couldn’t reasonably be expected to voice them, especially since colin eagerly wields his class privilege like a cudgel.

it’s a minor detail in the text, but something i’m surprised hasn’t been mentioned more when discussing colin is that he’s a preemie! lilias died when she was heavily pregnant, certainly in her third trimester. straight out of the gate, colin hasn’t had the full time needed to grow and develop in the womb—which is definitely a source of birth trauma. premature babies are noted to be more prone to mental illnesses like anxiety and depression than typically maturing babies, and they also may have weak immune systems and other health problems. obviously the staff at misselthwaite wouldn’t have the exact clinical knowledge of this, but it doesn’t take a medical degree to realize “mom injuring self and dying in childbirth = not the strongest circumstances to start off life in.” i’m sure they coddled him so much not because they instantly thought he was sick from the moment he was born, but because they knew that, as a premature baby, colin was more likely to be ill than other babies allowed to grow to term.

it’s also important to note that the staff could be interpreted as essentially protecting baby colin. they kept him in his room because they didn’t want him to die, unlike his hysterical (pun intended) father, who ranted and raved that the baby might as well die because it’d be a hunchback like him, and at the moment of colin’s birth, at that. that in itself could be a reason to diagnose colin with munchausen’s syndrome by proxy—his father’s rantings when he was a baby—but i don’t think that’d officially qualify, since mr. craven had next to no contact with colin directly after this, and i believe munchausen’s by proxy is meant to refer to sustained abusive patterns of behavior. i think munchausen’s by proxy is a technically correct interpretation, as there’s nothing really stopping it from being true (aside from the question of intent, which i find significant—is it really munchausen’s by proxy if it happens entirely by accident due to lack of education by his caregivers, or due to fits his father had at his staff when he was a newborn? i’m just not sure), but i personally find it narratively unsatisfying.

mary diagnoses colin with “hysterics,” which, per freud, was “a psychiatric condition variously characterized by emotional excitability, excessive anxiety, sensory and motor disturbances, or the unconscious simulation of organic disorders.” i think he definitely has some sort of undiagnosed (obviously) anxiety—his tantrums, which seem to me somewhat akin to panic attacks (though significantly different in a few ways), as well as depression (lack of appetite, intense negative thinking, lack of sleep, anger, loss of interest in things like going outside [maybe that’s cheating, as he never really had an interest to begin with in going outside], lack of energy, and even physical pain. both anxiety and depression was folded into the label of “hysteria” back then, so i definitely don’t think it’s an unreasonable interpretation.

the misselthwaite staff also weren’t totally helpless, though; they did suspect that colin would do better if given fresh air as he grew up, but his constant illnesses due to his weak immune system kept him inside because he feared getting worse, and not going outside meant his immune system stayed weak, and so he kept getting sick. mrs. medlock saying that colin’ll “die for sure this time” when he had typhoid was definitely awful and completely unjustifiable, but to be fair, she also thought he was so feverish he didn’t hear her. not that that’s really an excuse, but...it’s complicated.

the staff at misselthwaite do care about colin, whereas caregivers who give their wards munchausen’s by proxy generally, at least in my understanding, don’t (though feel free to correct me on that, i really only know about it from what i’ve read of the symptoms on the internet and the gypsy blancharde story; the latter in particular notes that the victim’s caretaker wasn’t terribly mentally stable, which from what i understand is a fairly common element to illnesses like these). i don’t think mrs. medlock or the misselthwaite staff would ever want colin to come to harm for their own sakes; they’re careless and foolish, harmful at worse, but i don’t think i’d call them abusive, merely because of the complicated class dynamics at play. colin’s a rich boy who has the power to send them away if they displease him; his word is law at misselthwaite. blaming the staff for not caring for him properly in that sense is like chastising the native servants in india for not caring for mary properly; there’s more nuanced factors at play here than just the dichotomy of “child vs. adult,” though that is important.

(sorry for the unwieldiness of this reply! this is a side blog, and i haven’t yet figured out if there’s a way to reply from those yet, so i figured this might be easier!)

#the secret garden #colin craven #frances hodgson burnett

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lettersofwrittencollective · 6 years ago

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The Pull (17/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was given to the line. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word Count: 2407

A/N: So I would clarify, when I envision this character- I very much envision this character to be more on the athletic side, a bit lean and muscled, because they are a predator. They are on the shorter side (about 5 ft) which has to do with the fact that research indicates that female wolves tend to be smaller than male wolves. I have tried to create a character that is Latin with Nordic ancestry (please see part 14) which is why there is some Spanish that gets occasionally thrown in and why Odin plays such a huge role in this. I try to stay away from blatant descriptors but this is so you know that, when they’re there that’s what I am envisioning.

A/N: As always, please let me know what you thought. Any comments, questions, or concerns. I LOVE hearing/ reading your thoughts!!

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Laying in bed that night, Stiles was having a hard time falling asleep. After dropping off Lydia, he had made his way towards Derek's loft to drop off Natasha. He’d been a little surprised that she was a bit snappy at Rafael seeing as how he’s not really seen her snip at any authority figure. Though, he has to admit that he likes that she wasn’t willing to just back down. He had, however, been very worried about what had happened before the medics and police had gotten to the substation.

“Natasha?” he had asked and at her hmmm of acknowledgment he’d asked if she was okay.

When she had responded in the affirmative, the confusion had been so evident in her voice that he’d slammed on Roscoes breaks. He’d heard her grunt and watched a grimace cross her features. “That right there!!” he’d exclaimed as he motioned at her. “Not to mention that you just had a whole damn substations electrical current smack you like a ton of bricks. That has to have done some kind of damage! Or are you actually Wonder Woman?” While Stiles had continued to rant, she had very calmly and very casually just reached over and took his hand. He’d been so surprised at her trying to comfort him that he’d stopped his raving.

“Stiles I promise you, I am absolutely fine. It wasn’t the whole substation or I would be very much dead. Seeing how that’s not the case, it was probably just a couple volts that had jumped off. Sure it hurt a ton in the moment but, now, it’s just the same as every other day. Nothing I’m not used to.”

But those words... Sitting up in bed Stiles thought back to some of the things that he had noticed about the girl. The way that she would wince sometimes like she was in actual pain but there had been nothing around that could have been painful. Or the way that she would stretch, and when asked would just say that she was sore. Also, the way that he had overheard Scott ask Isaac if she was still in pain.

He pulled out the notebook he had started on her. There was his research on Themis, Xolotl, and Odin specifically. Though there was a lot more on the Norse god and mythology than on the other two. He was curious about something that he had noted before- Stories told of a family of wolves that had walked with Odin. He was trying to figure out if that had anything to do with her caring so much about the god. As he read it, he realized that a lot of it looked like gibberish and he was. well, he was sure that had to do with the fact that he hardly slept.

That was actually one of the reasons that the two of them had started to hang out as often as they did. Sure, her trusting him to not get her leg snapped in half by a bear trap was psych 101 for the friendship but, as they hung out more and more he realized that the girl was actually quite warm, inquisitive and sharp. He had however noticed that she was very hesitant to be affectionate while awake. For the most part, she was only really affectionate with Isaac and, occasionally, Allison. When she was asleep though, she seemed to be much more affectionate. The day that she’d fallen asleep while studying, she had curled up into his side and when he’d tried to leave, she’d searched for body heat and when he’d carried her upstairs earlier, she had nuzzled his neck. He had been hard-pressed not to drop her at that moment as his heart had practically stopped in his chest.

It made him wonder if she was naturally a very affectionate person but just hid it from the group. Not that he could entirely blame her, she still didn’t know him, Scott or Lydia all that well.

He’d noted how her eyes were usually purple or blue. The purple seemed to look almost natural though he knew they weren’t. He’d seen them flash brightly the night Ethan and Aiden beat Scott. The blue, though, was a bright color.

Sighing, he put the notebook away and then laid back in bed. He felt bad that he still had the notebook. Maybe he would get rid of it. But, there were a lot of things he had in there that he had noticed about her. Like the way she bit her lower lip, or how she would get very defensive of both Peter and Derek. Or how her nose scrunched up when she actually laughed. Figuring he’d decide what to actually do with the notebook later he tried to go to sleep.

“I take it you didn’t sleep last night?” you asked Stiles as you hopped in Roscoe. He gave you a confused look and you shook your head, “You look like crap Stiles.”

He acts offended and you chuckle at him. The two of you head to school and you tell him that both Peter and Derek are back. He asks where they were and you just shrug, “Derek had questions for Talia and so they got her claws.”

“Why her claws?”

“Come on Stiles, it’s the supernatural, claws are… well, the best way I can think to describe it is to just say that an evolved wolf’s claws can be used to access them even after death.”

He merely makes a sound that sounds like he’s surprised at what you said. You roll your eyes before realizing that you didn’t see your backpack, “Stiles? Did you by any chance grab my back from your house this morning?”

“Nope, left it sitting on the sofa.”

“Stiles! I need-” his laugh cuts you off and you realize that he’s joking. Huffing at him, you stick out your tongue.

“It’s in the backseat.”

Looking In the back, you see that it is in fact sitting right there. You reach over and pull a notebook and a pen from it and you start to write down the things you remember from yesterday’s weird vision, or whatever it was.

“What you writing there?” Stiles asks and you tell him about the crazy vision you had had, though you make it out to have been a dream instead. You tell him about the spider and the eagle and the spear but you don’t say anything about him. Instead, you just say that you heard someone calling your voice and that when you found them, they were surrounded by fireflies and a valkyrie.

“I don’t know Stiles it was just weird.. Figured I should write it down though - might be something important later, ya know?”

“Makes sense.” he nods his head and the two of you spend the rest of the way to the school with only the radio making any real sound between you.

When you’re at school, you go with Stiles to his locker. Once the locker is open, he sets his keys inside and begins to get the books that he’s going to need for your first class.

Coach is talking into a bullhorn, “Class starts in five minutes!! Just because there’s no power don’t expect there to be no school.”

“Hey that’s a triple negative.” Stiles points out as he pulls back from rummaging through his locker. “Good job coach.”

“Copy that.”

You look down at your notebook and start to re-read what you had written on the way here. You’re distracted when, a moment later, Stiles is pulling Scott towards him. Truthfully, the only reason you even notice that is because Stiles is saying no and telling Scott to stop.Scott, for his part, is saying that he needs to talk to someone and you’re confused until you follow his eyes and see that he’s staring after Kira’s retreating form.

“No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her.”

“Which is why I need to talk to her.” Scott rebuttals against his friend.

Shaking your head, you point out “Or, you could just talk to her because someone did leave a coded message for Barrow to kill her and she was kidnapped which is a pretty stressful situation for anyone to be in. Scott, you’ve talked to her a couple times. Stiles- we helped save her. I, for one, will be trying to check on her later today. I don’t think bombarding her currently will do any good.”

Stiles looked at you then Scott. “Scott, Natasha,” he began with a serious tone to his voice. “No, until we figure out if she’s just another psychotic monster that’s going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction.”

“What if she’s like us?” Scott asks, motioning between you and him.

“That girl walked through 1.21 gigawatts of electricity. She’s not like either of you.”

“But Natasha did the same thing and you’re ok, right?”

Shaking your head, you rub your right hand over your left arm before bringing the hand to the back of your neck. ‘Scott, I didn’t walk through anything. A small bit of electricity had to have gotten out and it knocked me out. I don’t know how much a wolf can take and I don’t particularly care to find out. But there is no way that it would be even half a gigawatt.n That would have killed me.”

Scott looked torn for a moment before nodding his head and heading, presumably, towards the class. You were going to join him when you looked over and saw Stiles staring at a key on his keyring as if he were confused as to why it was there. Something occurred to you at that moment and glancing around you quickly, you made sure that no one you knew with supernatural hearing was in the area.

By the time you turned to look back at Stiles, he was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You smirk at him, he was the one that had given you the perfect set up to ask anyways, “So… I take it you don’t think I’m a - what were the word” you stopped for a moment to try and remember what he’d said. “Ah yes, another psychotic monster that’s going to start murdering everybody?”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles says without hesitation as he puts an arm around you and you two walk to History. You chuckle softly and allow him to pull you along.

Realizing something, you ask Stiles “Have you heard from Allison or Isaac today?”

“No. But I’m sure Scott told Allison what happened so she would’ve told Isaac.”

You merely hum a sound of skeptical acceptance and pull your phone out. Sending Isaac a text, you ask if he’s at school today.

Isaac: Nah me and Allison are taking the day off.

You: Everything ok?

Isaac: Ya

Isaac: just wanted to spend some time together without - ya know?

You: Alright, well stay out of trouble.

You: And give Alli my love

You: 😘💜💜💜💜

Isaac: What about me?

You: 😈😈💩💩

Putting your phone away, you sit in your seat. Scott and Stiles are deep in conversation with each other and Kira is stuck in her paperwork. It actually looks like she may be doodling, considering how quickly her pens moving across the page.

Leaning forward, you tap her on the shoulder. She stiffens for a moment before turning to you. Squeezing her shoulder in, what you hope is, a reassuring gesture she shakes her head at you, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You nod your head at her, “We don’t have to. Just know that if you find yourself needing anything, I’m here for you. Pretty sure that Scott would be to…” out of the corner of your eye, you see Scott glance at the two of you very quickly, “Actually I know he would.” you tell her before leaning back in your own seat.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you try to ignore it but it goes off a couple more times. You pull it out and look down at the screen.

Stiles: What was that?

Stiles: Natasha… she could be dangerous

Stiles: Do you want to get eaten?!

Stiles: Seriously!

The little bubble that indicates he’s still writing is going off and you shake your head before typing out a quick response,

You: Trust me... Please?

You hear him sigh and the bubble disappears for a moment before it appears again. A second later, you see his response

Stiles: 😑

Stiles: Okay.

Sending him an appreciative smile, you feel your phone vibrate again, looking at it you see a text from Ro in a group chat.

Ro: Ok, so since Ylfa, knows that we’re all talking, I am reviving the group chat and you can all suck it 😜

As you go to respond, you hear Mr. Yukimura say, “Ms. Ragnulf,” and you know you’ve been caught on your phone. Making a face, you turn to look at him. “Since you seem so preoccupied with your phone, perhaps you already know the answer then?” At your blank look, he repeated the question he had asked the rest of the class. “What happened in the United States after the bombing of Pearl Harbor?”

It took you a moment to recall your reading but you finally did, “President Roosevelt called December 7, 1941 ‘A day that will forever live in infamy.’ Congress declared war on the Empire of Japan and we are officially seeking vengeance against the Japanese. The following year, Japanese-Americans are thrown in internment camps throughout the United States. The U.S. sends troops to aid the Allied Powers in Europe and fights on the Pacific Theatre. Men end up slaughtered in the capturing Iwo Jima and Okinawa as the Japanese took longer to surrender than expected. Many of the leaders of the Japanese military were required to perform Seppuku because of the shame they had brought upon -”

“Well,” Mr. Yukimura cut you off, “It seems that someone actually did their reading. Good job Ms. Ragnulf.”

Mr. Yukimura then turns back to the front of the class and continues he lecture on World War II.

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tag list

@nicole-lynne @fandom-princess-forevermore @capandbuck @biles-bilinski-24 @stiles-o-dylan24 @fiveisadorable @falling-stars-never-cry @blueraindrops @its-livelovelife @screamxqueenx94 @ceceliaking-18 @jasmin3xswayz31994 @dear-vista @fangirlbitch02 @riseandshinelittleblossom @jessicakimba @truthdaze @seninjakitey @kateeee0817 @squadkyoya @lucifersnipnips @niawoods

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 12 April 2019

#Reader Insert #Stiles #Stiles Stilinkski #Stiles x reader #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stilinski #stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski imagines #Teen wolf x reader #teen wolf insert #teen wolf #teen wolf rewrite #My writing #The Pull #Series

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 6 years ago

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Secret Studies ch.9 -Trust Issues

*Due to medical issues, @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul will not be continuing with this fic until further notice**

I was debating whether I should continue this myself, but after being shown a lot of support, I've decided to give it a go. Hope you all still enjoy the story.

The Elementalist au

Beckett x mc (Oriana)

Words: 2325

Warnings: NSFW. Part of this may trigger negative reactions, so read at your own risk

Beckett knew he aced his exams. His whole life he’s been studying wizardry, never taking a moment for himself. But as he glanced across the room at Oriana, who was still busy writing down her answers, he knew things were beginning to change. Noticing his eyes on her, she turned her head slightly and winked, before turning back to her paper. He smiled to himself. Is it possible to be just…happy? And let things fall into place without pushing them there yourself?

Minutes later the bell rang, and everyone turned in their exams. He waited for Oriana outside the classroom. “Hey beautiful.” He leaned in, giving her a sweet kiss, which she returned fervently.

“Hey yourself.” She greeted, when they broke apart. He slung an arm around her shoulder and started guiding her out of the building and towards his dorm.

“I’m so glad those are over.” She told him. “I’m really nervous about how I did.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you did quite respectably. You had a great tutor after all.”

She grinned up at him. “Yeah, a tutor that gets distracted way too easy by just a little sliver of skin.”

Beckett’s jaw dropped. “What? No I don’t.”

“Is that so?” She smirked. She guides his hand that was already around her shoulder and pushed down part of her sleeve, exposing her milky skin.

He swallowed. “That’s…I’m fine. It’s just a shoulder. Nothing…” Using his hand, she pushed her sleeve even further down.

He cleared his throat. “Ori…”

“Hmm?”

“If you even expose one more inch of you, we’re not making it back to my room.”

“Is that right?” She taunted. She took his free hand and placed it on her stomach, just underneath her shirt, feeling the sparks as his skin touched hers.

“I warned you.” Beckett quickly swept her from her feet, carrying her into the nearest dark corner he could find.

“This is kind of public…” She started

He silenced her with his lips, before trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone, before bringing them up to her ear and murmuring. “You shouldn’t have tested me, then.” She let out a small gasp as he nibbled her ear ever so gently. All on its own, her body arched into his, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Guess I’m not the only impatient one.”

“It’s all your fault I find you irresistible.”

His heart was racing as he placed his hands on her hips, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “Can you be quiet, Ori?”

“Uh…not exactly my strong suit.” She responded breathily.

“Better try, there’s people around.” He smirked, before kissing back down her neck, down her chest, pulling on her nipple with his teeth over her shirt, grinning when she cried out. He sank down on his knees, kissing her stomach and as he started going even lower, he unzipped her pants, gently kissing the skin he was exposing while pulling them down.

“Beck” She whispered, looking down at him with hooded eyes.

With that one whisper, he lost all his control. He dove into her pussy, circling her clit with his tongue, and running along her wet folds. She’s always so wet for him, he started thrusting his tongue in and out of her, her fingers gripping his hair while she moaned for more. He pulled his tongue out “Don’t make me silence you.”

He slipped two of his fingers inside her and she cried out at the intrusion. He pulled his fingers out quickly, stood up and crashed his lips against hers, then re-inserting them, pumping in and out of her. She bit down on his lip and this time it was he who groaned loudly, and returned the favor by biting her neck.

“OH!!…” She started, but then he brought his hand to her mouth, muffling her scream.

“Come for me.” He demanded. To his surprise, she shook her head vehemently. A moment later, she was yanking down his own pants and guiding him towards her, replacing his fingers with his cock.

“Fuck, Ori.” He thrust hard, slamming one hand against the cool brick of the building and bringing the other towards her neck.

“Squeeze”

He abruptly stopped everything. “What?”

She brought her own hand to meet his that was resting just above her collarbone. “Squeeze my neck, Beckett.”

“Ori…”

“I trust you.” She was searching his eyes, and he could tell she was being completely serious.

“Beckett. I want to try this, even if it’s just this once.”

He shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, he moved his hand to her throat and squeezed ever so slightly. He swallowed hard, his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest, he was terrified of hurting her.

“A little harder” She murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

He inhaled sharply, applying just the tiniest bit of additional pressure.

“Now fuck me.” She whimpered. “And don’t let go.”

He started moving in and out of her again slowly, never breaking their gaze. “We can’t stay here much longer, someone could catch us, and this looks….”

“Shut up and fuck me fast then.” Her voice was soft and she was breathing just fine, so he nodded and started pumping in and out of her, faster and harder, not a sound between them except an occasional whimper that escaped her lips.

“Holy shit, Ori, this is…” He found himself going faster and faster, his balls slapping against her pussy, his hand still wrapped around her neck, pressing into it a little more. This is so fucking hot.

He felt her walls getting tighter around him; she was close to falling apart.

“More” She groaned hoarsely.

He was done for. He dropped both hands to her buttocks, and lifted her onto him, pressing her flat against the wall, dragging his dick against her g-spot. She used his shoulder to muffle her cry as they came hard and fast together. They stayed there several minutes, panting heavily, before he gently set her back down, kissing her again.

“That was insane.” He breathed. “Holy fuck, Ori. Where have you been my whole life?”

She grinned at him. “I take it you liked that?”

He nodded “yes…but I have to ask, why did you want me to do that?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Um…well this is going to sound ridiculous but…I wanted to know what it felt like, relinquishing all my control and putting my life in your hands. I’ve never trusted someone that much before…not until you.”

He looked at her in awe. “I am so in love with you.”

“Mmm I love you too, Beckett.” She brushed her lips against his, then they both started pulling up their pants again. Joining hands, they left their little sanctuary to go back to his dorm. Several people stared at them, smirking, as they walked by.

“Uh…do you think…”

“Yes.” Oriana laughed. “But you know I have trouble staying quiet, so if people heard us I blame you.”

Just then, her phone dinged. She pulled it out of her pocket. “Oh, Griffin wanted to show me something that might give me an edge on the competition with the Thief game coming up. Is it alright if I just meet up with you for dinner?”

Beckett narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I can come with you.”

“Why?”

He pulled her close to him. “Because I just had amazing sex with you and I don’t want to let you go yet.”

She rose an eyebrow. “I gave you full control over me while you were fucking me. But you don’t get to control my life.”

“I’m not trying to control your life, Ori, I just want to keep spending time with you.”

“If I was going to go shopping with Shreya, would you still want to come?” She challenged.

Beckett opened his mouth to argue, but instead sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Griffin doesn’t like your being with me. I don’t want him to talk you into whatever reasoning he’s developed.”

“You said you wouldn’t be jealous anymore.” She said softly.

“Well, what if a monster attacks? You’ll be vulnerable.”

“I thought you’d still appear if that happened.”

“Well, yes but…”

“Hey, Oriana, did you get my message?” A voice called out.

Beckett tensed as he saw Griffin headed their way. “Be nice.” She whispered harshly to him.

“Hey Griffin.” She greeted. “I did, and I’m game.”

Griffin grinned at her. “Great!” His smile faltered as he caught Beckett’s scowl. “Uh, hey Beckett. I suppose you want to come too.”

“I do.” Beckett confirmed

Griffin shrugged. “If you insist.”

Beckett didn’t miss the look Oriana shot him as the three of them started towards the thief dome. “You sure Everett’s okay with us practicing without him?” She asked

Griffin glanced at Beckett. “Yeah. He’d be here himself but…” He gestured between the two of them. “It’s not going to affect anything while we’re playing as a team. But he doesn’t exactly want one on one time with you, not since…” He trailed off.

“Oh. Right.” Oriana cast her eyes down to the ground. She still felt awful for ditching their captain.

“He’ll get over it, Ori.” Beckett told her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Not everyone can turn feelings on and off when they please, Beckett.” Griffin’s tone was fierce, and both Beckett and Oriana looked at him in surprise. Realizing his tone, he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered out “Let’s just practice.”

Beckett sat to the side and watched as Griffin showed her some new air magic moves that would make her faster, and less likely to be caught. He glowered every time Griffin touched her, which, to his dismay, was a lot. Right then, Griffin ran up to her again, positioning her hips a certain way, and Beckett stood up and stormed towards them...only to be stopped by the shrillness of his ringtone. He froze when he looked at his phone.

“Hello, mother.” He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Cat’s out of the bag. She knows about Oriana. He sunk back onto the bench and listened quietly as his mother ranted and raved and how irresponsible he was getting involved with someone outside the family’s circle of friends.

Oriana went to him, intertwining their fingers together. He smiled gratefully at her. She couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the line, but she knew by his frustration it was Mrs. Harrington. Suddenly he let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, dinner sounds wonderful…uh huh…I’ll meet you there.” Oriana caught his eye, and he smiled sadly at her. “Yes, alone.” He hung up.

“You okay?” She asked, full of concern.

“I have to go meet my mother. She has questions.”

“I can come, you don’t need to go alone.” She told him

“I do, though, Ori, it’s for the best. She’s upset and I want to smooth things over before she meets you. I’ll face her wrath alone this first time, getting everything squared away, and then next time you’ll join us, and she will love you as much as I do.” He kissed her forehead. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

She nodded slightly but wouldn’t meet his eye. Once again, she felt he wanted to hide her away. “I’ll see you later, Beck.” She moved to get up, but he circled his arms around her waist, pulling her back down to him.

“I’m not hiding you, trust me. And I know you can hold your own against her. Just…let me do this. As her son I owe her the respect of hearing everything from me. Then I’ll arrange all of us to go to dinner together…maybe you can even join us a little bit later.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “You trust me with your life, right? Trust me with this.”

She gave him a half smile. “Of course, Beckett. You know her and I don’t. I trust your judgement when it comes to introducing us.”

He kissed her slow and sweet, before letting her go. “I’ll see you later either way, right?”

She nodded, and he headed out of the stadium, too preoccupied to notice the glare Griffin was giving him.

Sighing, Oriana returned to the field. “Sorry about that. I’m ready to keep going.”

“You know he’ll never introduce you, right? No one meets Mrs. Harrington and gets away unscathed. Really, you’re better off never meeting her.”

Oriana rolled her eyes. “Well her son is my boyfriend, so she’s just going to have to deal with that. If she thinks she can scare me away, she’s got another thing coming. He’ll introduce us no matter how his dinner tonight goes. I’m sure of it. So, you can start giving him more credit than you have been.”

She turned away from him and started practicing the new spell he’d just taught her and didn’t see him pulling out his phone and firing off a text. Turning around, she saw him just putting his phone back in his pocket.

He plastered a smile on his face. “Just checking the time. We have a bit left. I’ll show you something else, a blocking maneuver, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Resuming their positions, Oriana couldn’t help but feel she was missing something in regard to the people around her. Maybe Griffin had a point, maybe she’s in over her head. But then, Beckett promised everything would work out. She sighed

“Griffin, I’m going to head home. I’m feeling a little drained.”

“Let me walk you.”

“Really, it’s okay, I’m fine to…”

“It’s not safe every place you wander, Oriana.” He said sharply.

“It’s the middle of the day, Griffin. Students and teachers are everywhere. How is it not safe?”

He stared at her a moment before shrugging and stepping back. “Suit yourself. See you later.” He grabbed his gear and left the stadium, leaving a very confused Oriana behind him.

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#playchoices #secret studies #beckett x oriana #beckett harrington fanfic #the elementalist fanfic #beckett harrington #beckett x mc #the elementalist #choices the elementalist #choices fanfiction

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zendozebra · 6 years ago

Text

All the Time in the World Chapter 14

Really? Some shitty warehouse? This is where Akira set up shop? Majima had thought he’d set up in somewhere a bit more classy, like a highrise or something. Either way, he was just glad he finally managed to find this place. It had taken him a week or two, as well as many late nights spent trying to deal with Giran’s specific brand of bullshit, but he’d finally managed to steal enough intel that led him to some doctor’s office in Musutafu. Sneaking in to that guy’s office was easy, and after hours of looking through his files and scouring through his computer, Majima was able to find some receipts for high-end medical equipment that were shipped to some warehouse in Kamino. When this whole thing is over, he’s treating himself to a vacation. He’d been off the grid for far too long, and it’s gotten to the point where the school isn’t answering his calls anymore.

He’d called in for some back-up, as soon as he’d realized that this was the place, but he’d only gotten static. That’d been weird, shouldn’t the staff at school be free this week? All of the students supposedly left for that training camp thing a day or two ago, so he doesn’t know why Yamada or Nezu weren’t answering their phones. Even Yagi wasn’t picking up, but he might still be a bit upset at Majima for calling him Skeletor that one time. But the others didn’t make sense, was something going on that he wasn’t aware of? Whatever, he’d found this place, and that was that. Now all he had to do was find Akira in this maze of dark hallways and Nomu cont-

What?

He got closer to the containers that he’s been walking past for a while and took a look inside. Bulging eyes, exposed brains. Yep, these were Nomu. They certainly fit the description that Yagi had given him. Fuck, Akira, what are you doing? This ain’t right, in any sense of the word. He’s gotta walk away, these things were starting to creep him the fuck out. With one last shiver of disgust, he continued down the hallways, checking inside of every room he came across, but he couldn’t find Akira. This is bullshit, he knows that Akira was here. The supply list called for respirators and morphine, and while the Nomu have their eyes glazed over, Majima doubted that Akira was giving them the courtesy of painkillers.

He walked into yet another room, this one looked more like a security room, which was stupid for a warehouse. Why would you need this many cameras for a shitty wa-

“Come to confess your sins, old friend?” He had to try with all of his might not to jump in surprise when he heard that voice. Akira sounded older than Majima could ever remember. He must have spent quite some time before getting that longevity quirk. Maybe he can rub that in a bit, it might be a sore spot for him. He walked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s face. Or, as it would seem, his lack thereof.

“Don’t know, you planning to kill those too?” Wow, that came out much more bitter than he’d thought it would. Even Akira seemed surprised by that. Er, he thinks? “Eugh. Speaking of sins, the fuck happened to your face?”

“Yagi Toshinori happened.”

“Gotta buy him a drink next time I see him.”

“Oh? So you’ve met our ‘glorious symbol of piece’, is that right?”

“Something like that.”

They stared each other down for a few minutes, before Akira gestured to a glass of something on the table in front of him. He picked it up and held it out for Majima, “Would you like a drink, old friend? I feel that you might like it, when you hear my next question.”

“I’m going sober for the time being, guy.”

“Oh? The Majima Kokiri I knew would have never passed on a free drink.”

“There’s a lot of things the Majima Kokiri you knew would do that I won’t.”

“Do you remember what happened the night before, Kokiri?”

Oh shit, he was right, just hearing that question made him want to blackout. Majima looked at the glass that the man was offering him, taking it with a growl and a reluctant nod of thanks, whether he could see it or not. He downed it, feeling that all-too-familiar burn in his throat. Johnnie Walker. Akira had remembered his favorite brand. Ain’t that bittersweet. “We cut our hands, all four of us. We all bled into the glass, and then we all took a sip. I don’t remember anything after that, but we were making a promise in blood, right? We promised we were going to build a better world.”

“A world where we would reign as gods.”

“I didn’t think the qualification for godhood was fratricide.”

Akira laughed at him. “Look who did their homework. Did you memorize a script for our bicentennial reunion? Did that little Nezu help you look through the dictionary?”

“I’ve had 200 years to think about the shit you pulled, buddy. I’ve been sitting on this shit for a long, long time.”

“Is that so? Because you seem to be forgetting one little detail of that night. Jin said something that would change everything, but none of us knew it then. Do you remember?”

“I don’t fuckin… He said something to Aimi. Don’t remember what it was. Memory is too far gone.”

Akira leaned forward, “Jin told her, ‘If I could, I’d give you my quirk. I know you want to help out, but without a quirk, you’re safer if you stay back.’ And what happened a few months later?”

“Aimi developed a quirk, so what?”

Akira made a gesture that looked like he would be pinching the bridge of his nose,“Oh for god’s sake, use your head for once, Kokiri! Quirks are a genetic trait, that’s why families have similar quirks. I can take and give quirks at will, so why the hell would Jin only have a stockpile quirk? I gave him that quirk, but I didn’t give it to Aimi. So what does that tell you?”

Oh, shit. “I guess you’re telling me that Jin found a way to give his quirk to Aimi? But that doesn’t make sense, why her? I get it, they were dating and all, but wouldn’t someone else make better use of it? Someone who was already trained, one of hero friends, that would make far more sense.”

“That’s why I believe that the transfer was unintentional. I’d like to explain some things for you, would you like to sit down?” He gestured to the chair across from him.

Majima sighed, “Fine, legs are getting tired, anyway.”

“The power that Jin transferred was the antithesis to my own, and was called One for All for that ver-”

“That’s… Kind of a lame name.”

“Coming from the man who calls himself, ‘The Watcher’, that’s pretty rich. And just what are you wearing, anyway? A cloak? Are those even in style anymore? As I was saying, One for All can only be transferred through the consumption of genetic material, as well as with the desire for it to be passed on.”

Majima tried to ignore that little hit to his codename, “I hear enough shit from my students when it comes to my fashion sense, so shut it. So, this ‘desire’ bit of it, you think that’s why Aimi got it, instead of us? Jin only wanted for her to get it?”

“It would seem that way. I lost track of One for All for quite some time after that, but I found it again when a hero by the name of Shimura Nana began to hunt me down, quickly followed by Yagi Toshinori when I killed her off.”

“It must have went from Aimi to Okoye the Brave, then to Ultraman, then to Wilfre. If you’re telling me they used a series of successors, then that’s who had it after Aimi died. Okoye was quirkless, back when she was Kori’s babysitter, but after a while, she started training with Aimi. Her quirk manifested shortly before UA opened for it’s first classes. Hell, Aimi had even called herself One for All, but I thought that was a stupid callback to Jin’s old catchphrase. You’re telling me that Aimi tried to carry on Jin’s dream through a whole lineage of heroes?”

“Oh no, that was only a side project. Besides achieving my brother’s admittedly childish dream, that whole line of heroes have been molded and trained to kill me. And if my research is correct, then I believe that All Might has already passed on One for All to the next successor.”

“Well, I’ve thought that Izuku’s strength quirk was kind of weird.”

If Akira still had eyebrows, he’d probably be raising them. “Izuku? Now that’s a name I’ve heard quite a bit about, recently.”

Aw shit. “I- I didn’t mean to say that.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, my Tomura will often begin ranting and raving about a boy named Midoriya Izuku. Would they happen to be one in the same?”

“I really shouldn’t have said tha- Y’know what, might not be the appropriate time to ask this, but do you mind doing your old friend Kokiri a solid and not sharing that information with anyone. Or acting upon that information at all. I didn’t say shit, okay?”

“Hmm…”

“Akira! Let’s just- What were we talking about? Let’s go back to that, yeah? One for All, line of successors, trained to kill you.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, almost did just that when Yagi had his chance, but I left quite the lasting mark on him in return.”

“Oh shit, you’re the one who tore a hole in his stomach? He never said anything, but I could have sworn that was Toxic Chainsaw.”

“Toxic Chainsaw? That’s one I haven’t heard before. What was he like, do you know?”

“Some crazy, murderous dipshit who didn’t know that killing people wasn’t how you get by in the world. Kind of reminds me of a certain faceless asshole I know!”

“Oh, get off of your high horse, Kokiri! Don’t act like you’re a saint. Remind me, just how close did you get to Aimi after my brother died, huh? Closer than Jin ever did, isn’t that right?”

“We were scared, and angry, and grieving. We’d just lost you, and Jin was gone for good! We didn’t mean for it to happen, but I don’t regret a single day of it.”

“But you’d had your eye on her long before my brother got what he deserved! Stop acting like you were innocent in all of this!”

“Unlike you, I only ended lives, I didn’t fucking ruin them! Everyone who’s quirk you stole would have been better off dead, and that goes double for all of those poor fuckers you forced a quirk into!”

They were both breathing heavily. They’d been arguing with each other for quite a while at this point, and they were getting out of breath. They couldn’t keep doing this forever, Majima was smart enough to realize that. He had to find a way to end this.

He held out his hand.

A tilt of the head and a scoff from Akira was the response he got.”I’m not taking your hand, Kokiri. That’s not how this works, and you’ve seem to have forgotten that. You take my hand, not the other way around. Now, if you want to bow to me like you did all those years ago, then maybe we ca-”

“Give them back.”

He didn’t have eyes, but Majima could still feel them boring into him. He never did like being interrupted. “What did I take from you? You don’t have anything for me to give back. You never did. The only reason these people even keep you around, is because you have first-hand experience of a history that’s been forgotten. I already have that, so why would I need you? You have nothing- You are nothing. So what am I supposed to be giving-”

“My friends!” He’d never yelled, truly screamed, at Akira before, but once he’d started he couldn’t stop, like a floodgate, “Give me back my friends, and my family, and my daughter! I want you to give me back every black day I’ve ever known you! Every lie you’ve ever told me!” Majima hated it when he yelled and got angry, his breathing would get messed up. He’d sound all airy and winded, and he would start to stutter if he went on for too long, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Give me Kori, and Aimi! Arai, Ueno, Iwata, Ono, Harada, Tamura, Nakayama! Give them back! Then, once you’ve given back everything you’ve ever taken from anyone, you can talk to me like you’re anything other than an abomination!”

“Look at you, trying to blame all of your problems on me. You seem to be forgetting all of those terrible things you’ve done in my name. Despite your age, you still act like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, refusing to take responsibility for all of the things you have done. I still have the records I kept of all our dealings in the past. Shall we take a look at everything I’ve paid you to do?”

With a scream of anger, Majima threw a punch at Akira, knocking him off of his chair and to the ground. “How the fuck do you feel now, bitch! Ain’t nothin’ if you can’t take my quirk!”

Akira, with a speed that Majima didn’t see coming, jumped to his feet and slammed his fist into Majima’s stomach, following up with a barrage of punches. He threw his arms up in front of his face, trying to block what he could. He had to focus if he wanted to use desync, but Akira wasn’t giving him a chance! throwing the time stopper across the room and into the wall, knocking over a ton of vials and beakers. They fell to the ground, shattering while Majima was finally able to activate desync, his body glowing a bright white. “Factor of 5!” He sped towards Akira like a rocket, so you can imagine his surprise when the no-faced bastard sidestepped his attack.

He can’t focus on that, has to keep going. With that in mind, he kept attacking, trying to use the speed that desync gave him to find an opening, but whatever quirks Akira had made him far too fast. The idea that he was matching Factor of 5 was insane! He pumped it up to 30, and was finally able to get a hit in. A good hook to his right jaw had Akira reeling back, but the monster was able to catch his follow up, holding his fist in a tight hold that he couldn’t break away from. His next punch met a similar fate, and the two were left pushing against each other, trying gain the upper hand. Majima dug his feet into the concrete beneath them, feeling it crumble into nothing beneath the power of the two behemoths’ rampage.

Majima felt his eyes go wide when Akira’s arms started to puff up, like they were inflating. He tried to pull away, but he was too weak. Fearsome black lightning filled his vision as a powerful blast of air hit him full force, sending him through a wall or two. He heard something break, but he didn’t know if it was a bone or something he landed on. He tried to stand up-

Knives were plunged into his chest, and he screamed. His throat was raw, and he could feel tears streaking down his face. He glanced a look down, and he saw that Akira had plunged red and black fingers deep into his chest. He was pulling on something, and Majima felt like he was dying. “No, no, it’ll destroy you! You can’t!”

“I’m nothing if I can’t take your quirk, that’s what you said, wasn’t it? Why don’t I rectify that, old friend? Maybe once it’s gone from your body, you’ll crumble to dust, like all corpses do.”

Majima screamed, feeling the fingers digging into his chest, twisting around his organs. “Akira, listen to me, you don’t want my quirk, it’ll kill All for One!” Majima felt it stop pulling, giving him a second to breath and calm his racing heart. Akira stood over him, and as stupid as it looked, from where Majima was sitting, that mask was terrifying. Akira used his other hand to wrap the fingers around Majima’s right arm, and started to twist, breaking it, tearing muscles and ligaments, until he just tore it off. He threw it away, like it was a piece of garbage, before grabbing the other arm.

“Explain that little line for me, or I’ll tear off the other one too.” If that wasn’t a good threat, than he doesn’t know what is. Should probably cut to the chase.

“Time Stop locks you in your prime physical condition, and it will reset you back to that condition every 24 hours. If you mix it with All for One, it will recognize your quirk as a parasite, and will decide on the form you had before it developed. You’ll be trapped as a child, unable to use All for One, and I know you, Akira. All for One is everything to you, and you would rather die than lose it, but if you take Time Stop, you won’t be able to even die! You won’t be able to gain a mastery of it and stop time, and any desync factor higher than 5 will tear your body apart whenever you use it!” He felt Akira pull those damn fingers away from him like he was just burned, and he guessed he didn’t have a lie detection quirk. That’s what Majima thought would happen if he took Time Stop, and he’d bet everything that he was right, but there was no way to be sure. He didn’t want to fuck with time any more than he already does, so he couldn’t mess around and find out.

He could feel Akira’s eyes on him, filled with hatred. He wanted to laugh at the irony of it, but the whole building suddenly shook, and they could see down the long dark corridor that a giant chunk of the warehouse had been collapsed. “So they’re finally here?” Akira turned back to Majima, and the time stopper watched as the palm of his hand opened up. A bone-like spear shot out and impaled his chest, right in the center. A few more followed the first, spearing through his stomach, legs, and his last remaining arm, and pinning him to the wall. One last spear pierced his throat, taking away his ability to call for help.“I’ll be back for you when this is over. It looks like the heroes have come to play. I sure do hope that Tomura is handling everything well on his end of things.”

Akira walked away without a second thought, not even looking back as blood pooled around Majima’s trapped body. A few wet, bloody gurgles was the only sound he could make. He had to hold on, his reset should only be a few hours away. He just has to not die until then. Fuck, his shoulder hurt. Well, everything hurt, but between stab wounds and a lack of an arm, he’s gonna have to say that the arm takes it for worse injury. The most fucked up part is that Akira didn’t even throw his arm far, he can still see it. It’s starting to crumble into that blue dust stuff his body seems to love so much. That shit appears from nowhere, fills up all the holes in his body, leaves him good as new. Shame he can’t reset himself at will.

The building is rocked by another explosion, and part of the roof collapses, blocking off Majima’s view of the corridor. Great, now he’s broken and bored. This is gonna take a while, isn’t it. Fuck it, he’ll just let himself die, they’ll have probably found him by the time he wakes up. Either way, his arm will be back when he wakes up, so he’ll just pull the spears out by himself if he has to. He really didn’t want to though, that seems like it’d hurt.

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four-loose-screws · 6 years ago

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Fire Emblem 5 Umemura Novelization Translation - Chapter 5 Part 4

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

“We’ll be there soon.” Carrion stopped his horse.

“We will? In that case, we can handle ourselves from here. Thank you for leading us this far.”

Carrion stared at Leif and didn’t say a word.

“Um…… What is it?”

“I’m not going back. Please allow me to come with you to Tahra, and then help you retake Leonster.”

“Why would a Thracian side with me……!? Why do you want to see Leonster rebuilt!?” Leif’s eyes opened as wide as they could. His entire body started shaking.

“General Hannibal knew everything. The moment he saw you, he realized exactly who you were.” Carrion said while jumping off his horse.

He did? Surprise and fear shivered through him. He thought back to the smile that had been on Hannibal’s face. If he knew who I was, then why did he let me go? Leif tried to think of an answer, but it only made his head spin in circles.

“I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. There was no hidden meaning in his words. He really does want to help influence the rebellion against the empire. The best proof I have of that is… me. I’m from a family of Leonsterian knights.” Carrion kneeled before Leif.

Leif stared down at him in complete shock.

“And the next place I want to take you to is where Dorias and the other Leonster supporters are hiding……”

Leif’s clouded mind cleared in an instant. “W-What did you just say?!” His voice was louder than he had expected it to be.

Carrion stared at Leif, just as surprised himself.

“Did you say Dorias?! I’m not dreaming, am I?! You said Dorias, right?!”

“Yes, of course.”

“He’s alive! Dorias is alive!!” Leif put his hands on Carrion’s shoulder and shouted. He remembered that fateful day when he was young, when he watched Dorias run back to the castle. Suddenly, he started crying. “Please, take me there right away, Carrion!”

“That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” Carrion bowed deeply, then stood up and got back on his horse. “Let’s go!” He said and unsheathed his sword.

“Why would you need your sword…?”

“We’re about to enter bandit territory.”

“Hold on a minute!” Orsin stomped over to Carrion. “The old man and the others changed their ways a long time ago. Now, they’re living a peaceful farm life up here.”

Carrion looked at the ranting and raving Orsin with a calm expression.

“He’s right! Dagdar isn’t a bandit anymore!” Leif added.

Carrion looked over at him and let out a short sigh. “That was true until recently. Now, a new leader has taken over, and has begun attacking the nearby villages.”

“So what happened Tanya and the old man!?” Orsin looked at the top of the mountain and started grinding his teeth. “C’mon, Prince Leif! I got a baaaaad feeling about this!”

“It’s not just a feeling. If what Carrion says is true, then things are definitely bad.” Fergus frowned.

“Yeah. Dagdar and the others must be worried about us too. We need to hurry! Orsin, do you know how to get to Dagdar’s mansion?”

“Yeah! I’ve been there before, so I remember! ……Um…… maybe.”

“Don’t worry, I remember.”Halvan sighed and put his hand on Orsin’s shoulder.

“Great! Alright then, let’s move out!” Leif ordered.

Everyone formed a line and started climbing Mount Violdrake.

When they neared Dagdar’s mansion, they noticed a number of people surrounding it, who all appeared to be bandits.

One of them noticed Leif and the others. “So you wanna pass through here, huh? Ha ha ha, what a bunch of idiots!” He sneered and picked up his axe. “But hey, I’m a nice guy. Just hand over all your money, and no one dies.” He said with a twisted smile on his face.

Leif heard Orsin start grinding his teeth again.

“Orsin, no……!”

Before Leif could turn around and stop him, Orsin dashed past him and towards the bandit. Orsin’s axe cut deep into the bandit’s throat.

The bandit didn’t even have time to react before he fell to his death.

“Orsin! Orsin!” Leif’s cries did nothing to stop Orsin from proceeding further towards the mansion. He furrowed his brow and stared at Orsin’s back. “There’s no reasoning with him right now. Move out, everyone! Our goal is to rout the enemy! But please, capture them alive whenever possible!” He yelled back to the others while starting to chase after Orsin.

An arrow pierced Orsin’s arm. He gasped and fell to a crouch.

The bandit that had shot the arrow started laughing triumphantly. “I did it! I shot someone! That was a poison arrow, you know! A poison arrow! Soon, the poison will start spreading throughout your entire body! You’ll suffer and suffer until you die! Gah ha ha ha ha haaaaa!”

Orsin pulled the arrow out and glared at him.

He winced.

Orsin pounced on him.

His face was frozen in fear as blood gushed from his chest and he fell over.

“I don’t have time to deal with the likes of you!” Orsin spat out before continuing forward.

“Wait, Orsin! Calm down!” Leif grabbed his arm.

“Lemme go, Prince Leif!”

“Orsin!”

“I said, let me go!” Orsin freed himself and tried to start running once more. However, his knees gave out. The poison had begun to take effect.

“C’mon, you need medical treatment. Calm down. Dagdar and Tanya can handle themselves.”

Orsin glared at Leif, then suddenly closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re right. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t mention it. Just calm down, and hurry along.”

“That’s a tall order for me…” He furrowed his brow and twisted his mouth into a pained smile.

“C’mon, Gomez! Open your eyes! Stop embarrassing us already!” Dagdar looked up and glared daggers at Gomez, a man with a square face covered in stubble.

Gomez’s face looked even more warped and angry in the flickering light of his torch. “Oh, so you think I’m embarrassing us?” The ends of his raised eyebrows started to twitch. “No, YOU’RE the one embarrassing us!”

“What!?” Dagdar tried to stand up and grab him, however, one of Gomez’s bodyguards stabbed him with a pole. He fell on the floor.

“Dad!” Tanya ran over to him and helped him sit up.

His body was covered in countless wounds from fighting off the bandits trying to capture them. But because he was trying to both protect Tanya, and fighting what used to be his men, he didn’t care about his injuries.

“And YOU’RE the one who needs to open his eyes! Surely you’ve realized it, too! If we continue living like we have been, we’ll soon have nothing left! That woman tricked you!”

“Don’t you dare talk about Eyvel like that!” Dagdar tried to lunge at Gomez again, but the bodyguard stabbed him again, this time in the shoulder.

The bodyguard held him back by digging the pole into his wound.

He swallowed his spit and glared at Gomez.

“She really does have you by the balls. You’re done for, you old pervert!”

“Enough already, Gomez!” Dagdar stood up once more. The bodyguard’s pole stabbed him in the chest. He pushed through the pain, turned towards Gomez, and raised his arm.

The pole broke with a snap.

At that same moment, they heard a loud noise as the door was smashed to pieces and a bandit went flying through the room.

“Outta my way!” Orsin grabbed the bandit blocking his path by the throat and flung him forward.

The bandit flew into the room with the destroyed door and landed on the floor.

Orsin saw the stunned bandits, Dagdar, and Tanya through the hole in the door. “Tanya!”

“Wait up, Orsin!” Orsin was already running into the room, and Leif was frantically trying to chase after him.

“Orsin! What the hell are you doing here!?” Tanya yelled.

“Saving you, that’s what!”

“I didn’t ask for you to save me! And first of all, this is my house! You can’t just come barging in here!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna save you now, so be quiet!”

“What did you just say!? Do you even listen when people are talking to you!? I said you don’t have to save me!”

“I got it, now be quiet! I’ll be done in a minute!”

“You just proved my point! You’re always like this, doing whatever you want…… saving me…… Why!? Why are you like this!?” Tears suddenly started pouring down her face.

“Hey, whoa, what’s the matter? Why are you crying? C’mon, don’t cry!” He started panicking and squat down in front of her.

She buried her face in his chest, wiped her tears on his shirt, and continued crying.

“Orsin, you take care of her, and stay out of this for now.” Dagdar said with a pained laugh before standing up. He looked at Gomez and grabbed his hammer.

“Dagdar. You used to say that if we don’t steal, we can’t live. Stealing is what brought us together. Don’t you remember? Do you really think you have any right to blame me for what I’ve done?”

“That was a long time ago. I thought we had all realized that was no way to live, and given up our bandit ways, together. And yet, you still did this to us.”

“But no matter how much we plant here, nothing grow! If we don’t do something, then we’ll all starve to death!”

Dagdar raised his hammer. “If we don’t steal, we can’t live. That’s true.”

“Then more and more of us will starve to death!”

Dagdar swung his hammer down.

Gomez closed his eyes and braced himself.

The hammer stopped right in front of his forehead.

“I’m disbanding the group!” Dagdar turned his back to Gomez and shouted. “You can all go where ever you want. But know this. I will never forgive a bandit. If I catch any one of you stealing, I will show you no mercy.” He declared, glaring at all the bandits around him.

“Dagdar!” Leif ran up to him.

His expression softened in an instant. “You been stayin’ safe, Prince?”

Leif nodded, but Dagdar ignored him and started looking around.

“Where’s Eyvel? I haven’t seen her yet.”

“I’m sorry…… She’s……”

“Spit it out! What happened to her!?” He barked.

Leif couldn’t bear to look at him.

“Hey, old man. I’ll tell you everything. It’s still really hard for Prince Leif to talk about, so don’t make him do it.” Halvan said while slowly walking up to Dagdar.

Dagdar frowned and looked down at Leif. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“……I’m gonna try to save Evyel…… no, I will…… I will save her! I promise!”

Dagdar gently put one of his large hands on Leif’s head. “So she’s alive, then. Don’t worry. I’ll help you. And we’ll save her. Won’t we, Prince?”

He nodded, feeling the warmth of Dagdar’s hand on his head.

#fire emblem #thracia #776 #fe5 #fe #leif #nanna #finn #japan #japanese #novel #translation #fe5 umemura novel translation #nintendo #super #famicom #snes

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itsbtsreacts · 7 years ago

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how would BTS react to you using weed to help your mental illnesses(Anxiety disorders more specifically) I hope this is acceptable to send in !

Seokjin: He would be upset and concerned when he found out that you smoked weed, the plant being very controversial in Korea. He’d stay calm as you explained yourself, telling him that it was for medical purposes. Jin would reserve his judgment for the time being as you continued to explain the situation further more to him, telling him that smoking weed eased your mental illnesses and helped you overcome them. Knowing that it was something that was helping you and quite literally easing your mind, I think he would be okay with it.

“I love you and if this is something that actually helps you, then who am I to get upset about it?” “Just please understand that this will also effect the groups reputation if someone from the outside finds out. But I’ll figure out how to make it right if something like that does happen.” “I just want you to be happy and-… Is that my ice cream? Y/n! I’ve been saving that and you know it!”

Yoongi: At first, he’d be angry. You know how controversial weed was in Korea and how it was so easy to manipulate the truth on the internet, so if he were to get caught around the plant, not just his but also the groups reputations could be tarnished. However, after you explained to him that you smoke to help your anxiety disorders, he’d fall silent. He would think for a very long time, the quiet just about killing you before he would ask you to explain further. He wanted to understand the benefits of smoking marijuana for mental health problems. After a good thirty minutes or so, he seemed to understand a little better and would just sigh, taking your hands into his. Overall, rather chill about it once he understands.

“Look, if this really helps you like you say it does, then this is something I can be okay with. It’s not that I, personally, have a problem with this all, it’s just…so controversial back home. Some idols and actors careers end because of it.” “I’m here for you and I’m here to support you, no matter what. Okay?” “Now come on, I’m hungry and by the way you keep looking over my head to see into the kitchen, I guess you are too.”

Hoseok: He’d be upset when he came home and found you on the back patio with a glass piece filled with milky smoke, though he wouldn’t necessarily know how to react. There would be a lot of questions and “You do know this could ruin how I’m viewed in Korea? How the group is viewed?” and a few “Are you so unhappy that you need a quick buzz to make you better?” which would bring you to tears, telling them that, yes, actually. You do need it to feel happy and at home with yourself. You would tell him about your mental health and how there’s always a war going on in your brain, often times it feels like a losing battle. Your outcry would surprise your boyfriend, him not finding the words to say at that moment in time. However, when you asked him if he wanted to break up with you over this, he sat down right next to you and took your hands into his as he stared deeply into your eyes.

“I would never leave you over a medical condition. Physical or mental.” “This is basically a treatment, right? You’re trying to take care of whatever demons you have like a beekeeper. trying to smoke them out.” “Hoseok, this isn’t the time for a joke.” “Regardless, I’m supposed to be your loving and overly supportive boyfriend. So that’s who I am going to be. Besides, you’re your own person. I can’t control you and neither can anyone else.” “…Were you..dipping popcorn into chocolate milk..?” “…no…?” “Oh my god.”

Namjoon: He had the intentions of coming back from the studio early to surprise you with dinner and a movie, however, he had come to find him being the surprised one as well when he saw you dancing around the house with a blunt in your mouth. His corneas would be beyond shocked when he realized just what was rolled up in the brown cigar paper and would become very stern. He gave you the chance to explain yourself, his facing softening slightly when he heard your reasoning behind smoking marijuana. He would ask why you didn’t take actual medication to help with your mental illnesses and when you explained to him that pills don’t work for everyone and that they often do more harm than good, he understood a little better.

“Aish, jagiya..what am I to do with you.” “No, I’m not going to dump you.” “I can learn to deal with this. For you and your health.” “From now on, can you open the windows or go outside? That’s really strong.” “I didn’t say it was dank, I said it stank.” “Can you explain this better to me? The benefits and all that.”

Jimin: He would be rather put off by the smell in the bathroom but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. You had just gotten out of the shower to get ready for your date with Jimin but didn’t hear him walk in your apartment after work, so there you were, siting on the edge of the bathtub smoking out of your little mini bong when you heard a knock and a gentle voice at the door. “Y/N, not to be rude, but I think you need a new candle because that smells like a skunk.” Jimin had teased as he let himself in. Almost falling back into the tub, you panicked when Jimin saw what you were doing. Furrowing his eyebrows, he realized just what you were doing and looked you dead in the eye with no expression. “Would you like to explain?” And so you did, you went into every little detail about your marijuana history and why you continued to smoke it out of your teenage years, explaining how it made you feel more like yourself than actual medication did. Taking a deep breath, Jimin sighed and knelt in front of you.

“So this actually helps you? I mean, I’ve heard stories about how cannabis helps with a whole bunch of different things but I never really thought much of it.” “If this helps you with your demons then I won’t interfere. Just…be careful, okay? This is a very controversial thing in Korea and I’d hate for you to get any kind of hate because of it.” “Now hurry and get dressed so we eat can go!” “….I think I inhaled your smoke..We need a box fan in here if this is going to be your smoke spot.”

Taehyung: Honestly one of the most chill about it. When he got to your house for your lazy day in date, the room was smoky and your coughs could be heard from the kitchen. “Y/n..?” He called out only to hear you yelp and frantically rush into the living room. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you a questionable look. “Is something on fire?” he’d ask and when you shook your head he looked at the brown cigar behind your ear. “Is that a blunt?” He asked to your surprise, questioning how did he even know what it was. sighing, you sat down and explained to him why you smoked weed, telling him it helped with your mental heath and made you feel better during panic attacks and insomnia. After ranting and raving, you looked up at Tae who didn’t seemed bothered at all.

“Ohh, that makes sense.” “Well I’m glad it helps you be the you you deserve to be.” “Did you order our take out already? I have the movies and the snacking foods, I figured you would want that one candy you were talking about yesterday so i went ahead and gra- what?” “Really, I’m fine with it. I understand, Y/n, it’s for your health and even if it wasn’t, marijuanna isn’t dangerous last i heard. So I’m not too concerned.” “Ah! Take out’s here!…You didn’t happen to have the munchies when you ordered our food, huh?…Why do we need twelve egg rolls?”

Jeongguk: He wouldn’t really have a reaction, he would ask many many questions and then come to an understanding as to why you smoke. He had just gotten out of the shower when he saw you on the back porch with a pipe. Curious, he walked out the back door and watch you throw the pipe into the grass out of panic. “Y/n..were you smoking pot?” He asked and you sighed, nodding your head and as you explained yourself. At some point while you were talking, he walked over to where you threw your pipe away at and was examining it. “It’s cute.” He said, walking back over to you and setting it back on the table. Taking a seat, he’d look at you and just smile softly.

“You’re so dumb, Y/n. You didn’t have to keep this from me for so long.” “Mental illnesses are hard and while I personally don’t understand, I understand that it sucks. A lot.” “As long as you’re not doing anything actually dangerous to you then I don’t care.” “Wanna go play Mario Kart? You’re probably too stoned but it’ll be fun to watch you crash and burn out there.” Wow. Thanks, babe.” “Of course.”

#bts #bangtan #bts reactions #bangtan reactions #seokjin reaction #yoongi reaction #hoseok reaction #namjoon reaction #jimin reaction #taehyung reaction #jeongguk reaction #.kara

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thisisdefinitelyaboutyou-blog · 7 years ago

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My beef with ‘To the Bone’

(... and no, it’s not just because its triggering)

When I heard about ‘To the Bone’’s upcoming release, I was moderately excited. As someone who battled eating disorders for almost 20 years and has been in recovery for the last four, I’m always pleased to see the subject being given more prominence, even if it’s the ‘Netflix’ equivalent of a Lifetime Movie.

‘To the Bone’ details the struggles of a 20-year-old, white, middle-class woman struggling with anorexia, while trying to manage some very tense family dynamics. After unsuccessfully seeking treatment in four different live-in facilities, Ellen (Lily Collins) is placed in the inpatient care of Dr Beckham (Keanu Reeves), who is lauded for his ‘radical’ approach to therapy.

While receiving rave ratings on Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB, the movie seems to have been critically panned for the larger part. The Guardian called it “uninsightful, insipid and insulting”, while A.V. CLUB called it out on its almost unsettling corniness. The Independent - along with scores of other publications - accused it of missing the point as much as it glamourises eating disorders.

Eating disorder specialists and charities don’t seem to be on ‘To the Bone’’s side either. Speaking to Teen Vouge, Dr Dena Cabrera - an eating disorder specialist - criticised the movie for failing to address the realities of what it takes to get better. Eating disorder charity Beat admitted “disappointment” at certain aspects of the film.

The following unnecessarily long rant is my take on the movie. Just so you know, it’s probably not something you’re going to want to read if ‘To the Bone’ is your new favourite film.

‘To the Bone’ started out on the wrong foot right off the bat, facing extensive backlash for being triggering in its depiction of anorexia. This criticism - as far as I am concerned - is only partly warranted. Representing anorexia on television or in film is never going to be an easy task and I’m not entirely sure that there is a “right” way to do it. A protagonist who's perceived as too thin will be accused of being triggering, but on the other hand a protagonist who isn’t thin enough will prompt neurotypicals everywhere to say shit like “How can she be sick? She looks fine to me! She’s actually, like... fat!” (yes, I am indeed taking a dig at that uncalled-for comment about Emma Stone’s weight).

Even though I have developed a healthy eating pattern and self-image in the recent years, in certain instances I still found myself gazing admiringly at Ellen’s sharp collar bones, deep-set eyes and small wrists, longing they were my own. I also found myself missing the heady rush of a low-blood pressure combined with prolonged ketosis. It goes without saying that people with eating disorders - or in recovery from eating disorders - will find this material triggering. Calories and kilograms are both assigned numerical values, although this happens a lot more fleetingly than the show-casing of Ellen’s body.

As much as the content is triggering, I support Lily in her decision to lose a drastic amount of weight to play Ellen. If she feels - as a person recovering from an eating disorder - that she has the mental fortitude to pull off a stunt of this sort without relapsing, I applaud her. However I do worry that inadvertently viewers may come to think that this feat is broadly achievable. Generally speaking, losing weight to a very visibly unhealthy degree is not something the average eating disordered person can bounce back from without having the relapse of all relapses somewhere in between. I was also intensely irked by Lily stating that she worked with "a nutritionist to lose weight for the film in a healthy way”. If you’re at what is medically considered a healthy weight or above, you cannot reach a point where you look full-on gaunt “in a healthy way”. These reservations aside, Lily’s performance is strong and convincing and it’s easy to understand why Ellen’s character has already garnered a solid fanbase.

So what’s my fucking problem with ‘To the Bone’? Allow me to elaborate: ‘To the Bone’’s biggest failure is that it follows in the narrative of every other movie about eating disorders: here is another white, middle class, young woman with an unstable family life. To be fair, there was a feeble attempt to dispel the untrue notion that all eating disorder patients are young, white women struggling with anorexia. The treatment centre featured a bulimic, pregnant, 30-something-year-old blonde (Megan) who later suffers a miscarriage, a 20-something-year-old anorexic, male, ballet dancer (Luke) from London and a nameless black, lesbian teenager with binge-eating disorder. Another patient who’s hardly out of her tweens (Tracy) offers tips on why ice-cream is best for purging. A slightly older girl who needs a feeding-tube (Pearl) uses unicorns and ponies to escape the grim reality of her illness. And then there’s the token girl with the barf-bag under the bed (Anna). It’s a pretty diverse bunch until you realise this is all you’re ever going to learn about these characters, with the exception of Luke.

Initially I thought that the film was turning tables on the Manic Pixie Dream Girl concept by writing that done-to-death trope as a man instead of a woman. I learned I was expecting too much when Luke lied about Ellen and him having cancer to buy beer without I.D.. Besides his manipulative streak (which is also exposed when he tries to emotionally blackmail Ellen into staying at the clinic when she decides it’s time to leave), Luke is written in a manner that is almost borderline perverted. Their is nothing ‘flirty’ or ‘romantic’ in asking a woman whether she’s ever been sexually assaulted “because it’s a big rexie thing”. Worse still, he then proceeds to ask a clearly uncomfortable Ellen whether she’s a virgin and if she’s ever had an orgasm before talking about his boner and planting a wet one on her lips. I suppose Luke was intended to bring a romantic angle to the movie, but given the serious subject matter and Luke’s extremely unlikable character, the budding relationship felt forced at best.

If providing more details about the token patients wasn’t a priority, I feel that some of Dr Beckham’s supposedly ‘radical’ methods should have been explored further. Eating (or not eating) whatever the fuck one likes at dinner in treatment facility sounds like every eating disordered person’s dream, but it isn’t exactly going to help them recover. Neither is a rain room, poetry recitals or throwing patients out the facility if they can’t maintain or gain weight. Dr Beckham tells Ellen that he doesn’t do talk therapy, so what exactly does his treatment involve? Well, there’s morning group sessions and a 15-minute reflection about the day in the evening. In between patients do chores to earn points to get their iPads back or leave the facility for a few hours (unsupervised of course). They also have the added bonus of changing their name to anything they like. Say what you like, but I highly doubt this treatment plan would pan out successfully in real life and giving people considering recovery any illusions that it’s half that much fun is almost cruel.

Other highlights of Dr Beckham’s treatment included providing patients with gems to the effect of “Tell the anorexic voice in your head to fuck off”. This is about as effective as telling a diabetic person to control their glucose levels by shouting them down into submission. I decided that Dr Beckham should have his medical license permanently revoked when he told Ellen that dealing with mental illness is all about growing a pair. Misogynistic bullshit aside, illness is never a case of mind over matter. ‘To the Bone’ hit its lowest point right here, in its implication that a mentally unwell person who is triggered by a traumatic event is weak. In the movie’s miscarriage scenario, emotional regulation would have proven difficult even for a healthy person, so expecting it from someone whose very illness prohibits them from having appropriate emotional responses is a real punch in the face to the mentally ill community. This is the sort of neurotypical nonsense I didn’t expect from director Marti Noxon who has first-hand experience of an eating disorder. Recovery from any mental illness is an extremely difficult and painful process, usually fraught with a lot emotional fall-out. Thanks to Dr Beckham’s conveniently sugar-coated therapies, ‘To the Bone’ avoided dealing with any of this unpleasant shit.

The movie also made a brave attempt at addressing the subject of pro-anorexia through the storyline with Ellen's tumblr, which she shut down two years prior when one of her followers quoted the blog as a contributing factor to her suicide. Much like the characterisation of the other patients in Dr Beckham’s facility, this incident is brought up, poked at with a splintery barge-pole and dismissed. It would have been far more interesting to watch Ellen’s internal struggle with this tragic event than any of the rain-dancing-in-the-dark drivel.

While striving to point out that both genetic and environmental factors contribute towards the onset of mental illness, the movie then went on to compare Ellen’s illness to an addiction. There is no doubt that disordered eating can lead to compulsive and ritualistic behaviours with food and eating, but there’s a good reason recovering drug addicts don’t share a facility with persons with eating disorders. Lumping these two diseases together as if they were interchangeable detracts from the seriousness of both conditions and certainly doesn’t help in understanding either illness better.

It also pained me that Ellen has no support network (because she has no friends and her entire blended family is composed of complete asshats), which is essential for long-term recovery. Her father is never showed onscreen because he fails to show up at all her appointments. Ellen’s biological mother has bipolar disorder, so helping her daughter is understandably challenging. Both step-mothers seem to think Ellen’s just a spoilt brat who’s acting out. Only her step-sister seems to have her back, but then again she also tests Ellen's ‘calorie Asperger's’ at the beginning of the movie so I’m not sure what to make of that relationship either. It’s the bizarre bonding-ritual between mother and near-death daughter that took the cake though: Ellen is bottle-fed rice milk in her hippie mother’s lap, as they lounge in a posh tent under the moonlight in the middle of the fucking dessert. Read that again and tell me - with a straight face - that it doesn’t verge on the bizarre.

In the film’s final scenes, Ellen - who has wandered off into the dessert and fallen asleep on a rock - has a dream sequence which draws on Anne Sexton’s poem 'Courage’ and inspires her - as if by magic - to say ‘yes’ to recovery. I understand that if there was ever a time where survival instinct would kick in, it would be when one gets as close to death as Ellen did. I just wish that her will to recover was driven by something more psychologically and emotionally challenging than a dream in which Luke encourages her to swallow coal (in his wink-wink-nudge-nudge tone, of course).

‘To the Bone’ provides a bird’s eye view of eating disorders. Sadly, the bird is directionless. When it comes to discussing - and especially dispelling myths about mental illness - that approach is simply not good enough.

#to the bone #anorexia #eating disorder #eating disorders #lifetime movie #keanu reeves #lily collins #spoilers #marti noxon

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theshatteredrose · 8 years ago

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Curse of Darkshire Manor (Chapter 5) - Etrian Odyssey 2 Fanfic

AN: I feel that I should apologise if this week’s chapter isn’t very good. I’ve been feeling utterly awful this week, health wise I mean. Terrible migraines and chest pains. So sorry if I also sound a little grumpy. ‘Hopefully’ it’s just a flare up of my fibro and it’ll settle down if I get some rest. I had this chapter almost finished, thankfully, I just needed to proof read it. So again sorry if I miss anything. The way I feel currently, though, I’m not sure if I’ll have next week’s chapter on time. I might have to skip a week.

Anyway, enough of my pity rambling, hope you do find some enjoyment from today’s update.

Chapter 5:

As a protector, Jhon had found himself in numerous precarious situations before. It was par the course of his class. But when he opened his eyes from what felt like an unfulfilling and less than voluntary nap, he felt his breath hitch in his throat when his gaze focused in on his unfamiliar surroundings.

With his head spinning from dizziness and uncertainty, Jhon quickly realised that he was standing upright, his back against a stone wall, and his arms pulled above his head and out slightly to the side, held there by metal cuffs at the wrists and attached to long chains that were embedded into the wall.

Now fully awake, Jhon immediately pulled at his chains as his gaze skittishly inspected his surroundings. The room he was confined in was small, dank, but otherwise unremarkable. There was nothing to look at. Only a door opposite him that was closed.

And he was the only person in the room.

A good or bad thing, he didn’t know. Was he the only one taken? Why was he restrained in this room? Where was he? What happened exactly?

Jhon gritted his teeth as he continued to tug at the chains around his wrists. He also tried desperately to remember what had happened. He was at the inn in the tea room. Others were with him. Talking about a few bizarre instances around town. Chatting comfortably. Completely unguarded. They were at the inn, after all. No need to be on watch or guard there. But…

Something came in through the window. A glass bottle of something. Jhon remembered being the one to push someone behind him, to place himself between them and whatever that projectile was. After that…

He couldn’t remember anything after that.

Though, he didn’t really need to know all the details. Something terrible happened. He was held captive somewhere. And it was highly unlikely that he alone was taken. He wasn’t certain, but he had to maintain the thought that he wasn’t alone, and he needed to find his way out of these chains and out of this room so that he could get to them. As soon as possible.

Jhon winced in anticipation when he heard the sound of feet against the stone ground, heading in his direction. He greeted his teeth when the door to his prison was opened and a tall man, whom he had never seen before, confidentially entered the room with a satisfied expression on his face.

“You are the last to awaken,” he said instead of offering any kind of greeting. “Surprising, really. You must have been the closest to the sleeping gas.”

…So that was sleeping gas that was thrown through the window.

Wait. The last to awaken? The others were here as well? At least he knew for sure now. But they…were probably locked up in their own version of hell. Shit. Tobyn wasn’t likely to cooperate in anyway, Macerio would be struggling with his fear of being left alone, Magnus would be desperately trying not to panic and Lynus…

Jhon wasn’t entirely sure how Lynus would be fare. He had…been through this before. He would either be having a severe panic attack at the prospect of being a hostage again. Or…become overwhelmingly determined not to be a hostage again.

Shaking his head to clear it, he took a moment to look at the much older man in front of him and felt an unsettling knot appear in his stomach and he curled his hands into tight fists.

He had faced down many a FOE in his time. As a protector, it was par for the course. But that man…had an aura unlike any FOE he had encountered. It was more…malicious. There was nothing primal or animalistic about his presence. It was far more disturbing than that. He felt…

Malevolent.

That was the only word that seemed accurate enough to describe the man’s aura. His presence. His very existence. He wasn’t right. He wasn’t normal. He wasn’t exactly…human.

“Who exactly are you meant to be?” Jhon managed to ask around the tightness of fear in his throat.

“The master of this fine estate,” the man responded as his lips curled up into a conceited smirk. “Lord Ronaldo.”

That name…was somewhat familiar. He had heard it somewhere before. A long time ago. It…actually reminded him of a story from his childhood, one that the adults told their kids to keep them inside at night and not to wander around alone. He couldn’t remember exactly, though.

Not that it really mattered at this very moment.

“You are no doubt wondering what’s going on,” the man known as Ronaldo immediately stated, sounding quite confident. “Wondering what’s happening to you. Why you’re here. Why all the chains. It’s simple, really. Very simple. You are useful to me. And fascinating. I had to go through such measures. I’m sure you can understand fully.”

Useful and fascinating, huh? How flattering. But there was a slight undertone to his voice as well. A slight subtext almost. Something along the lines of him knowing full well that they wouldn’t be remotely interested in him, in what he wanted from them. He knew that whatever it was that he had been planning, they weren’t going to allow to happen.

So he felt justified in his actions?

Bastard.

“You see, I have this goal,” Ronaldo said in a mockingly flippant manner. “Dream, if you will. And I needed a few test subjects. Oh, silly me, I mean volunteers.”

Volunteers? That arrogant piece of shit.

“Oh, don’t worry your silly little head, you haven’t been volunteered yet.”

Jhon hadn’t the faintest idea what the hell he was talking about.

There were so many questions running through his head, but Jhon opted to stay defiantly silent instead for the moment. Demanding answers would only allow the man before him to feel superior, allow him to relish in his uncertainty, and to confuse him with cryptic words. Nothing the man said could be taken as truth. He seemed like the type to relish greatly in someone else’s distress and insecurity.

God, Tobyn, he hoped that he didn’t do anything to antagonised the bastard and get himself hurt.

“You’re just the back up,” Ronaldo continued as he paced the small space with his hands folded behind his back and an obnoxious swagger in his steps. “Just in case that landsknecht does something…regretful.”

Landsknecht? Axel? Axel was their target? Shit. That meant they were either highly skilled or completely insane. And, honestly, neither was a good thing.

Ronaldo unexpectedly paused in his pacing and turned to face him, one of his furry little eyebrows arching toward his hairline. “Hm? You’re an awfully quiet one, aren’t you?”

Jhon said nothing. He just looked at him through narrow eyes, glare unflinching.

And the man before him didn’t seem to appreciate that as his conceited smirk faded a little and a flash of annoyance appeared in his eyes. He then unexpectedly stalked straight up to him, standing mere inches away from him and grabbed him roughly by the chin. His hand was cold, clammy, and decidedly unnatural.

“Too high and mighty to talk to me?” he practically spat at him.

Once again, Jhon made no attempt to verbally respond.

Ronaldo stared back at him with narrow eyes, his gaze on par with that of a FOE, really. He also looked incredibly disappointed. He obviously wanted more of a reaction out of him. He wanted Jhon to rant and rave at him. To curse and swear.

So Jhon remaining rebelliously silent was infuriating.

“You’re no fun,” Ronaldo unexpectedly sighed as he released his hold on his chin, much to Jhon’s internal relief. “That landsknecht is far feistier than you. Since you love the silence so much, you can stay here. Only the sound of rats scurrying to accompany you.”

Far better than listening to his conceited and arrogant voice.

“M-master Ronaldo!”

The sound of another’s voice, frantic in tone, caused the man to frown in further disappointment before he heaved an irritated sigh and turned toward the door of Jhon’s prison.

“What is it now?” Ronaldo spat at another man wearing similar grey robes and stalked over to him.

Although the other man’s face was shadowed in the pull-up hood of his robes, Jhon could see that he was distressed, disturbed even. Like something terrible had happened.

Jhon felt a spike of fear appear in his chest and he quickly came to a decision. He didn’t have a clue to what was really going on, but he wasn’t going to remain a passive hostage. He wasn’t going to wait around for these bastards to harm his guildmates, his family. He was a protector. He had a job to do.

Axel wasn’t the only one with almost inhuman strength. Jhon had more than his fair share.

And, damn it he was going to use it. Raze this place to the ground!

“Why are you telling me this again?” Ronaldo hissed loudly before he voice abruptly lowered. “That medic is still inside the manor somewhere. Find him already.”

What? Lynus managed to escape? He…wasn’t willing to play the part of the passive hostage again, it seemed. Well...all the more for Jhon to start raising hell of his own.

The unnamed robed man trembled slightly as he shook his head. “My lord! I-it appears that the other hostages have escaped as well. A-all of them.”

“What?!” Ronaldo shrilled in pure disbelief. “How-? That medic? No…”

And Lynus had helped everyone else to escape? Even better.

With Ronaldo busy speaking with his little squadron of minions just outside the door, Jhon pushed up onto his toes, enough for him to wiggle his hands to wrap around the chain restraining him. He tightened his grip and pulled. Hard.

He gritted his teeth as a sense of anger bubbled in his chest.

He thought about his teammates. He thought how that grey-robed man in front of him had attacked them at the inn. Thought about how he had the audacity to kidnap him and his teammates. Thought about how scared or hurt his teammates were. Thought about how Tobyn and the others were desperately fighting back without weapons. Thought about the suffering Axel must be going through.

And all of that seriously pissed him off.

All because of this…this fucking asshole in front of him.

With a loud crack, the brick that the chain was anchored to slid from the wall and fell to the floor with a thud, small bits of mortar and cement following. Soon, the second one followed, and Jhon stepped away from the wall as the chains pooled by his feet.

He panted softly as he took an intimidating step forward and glared at the man in front of him, who of which was staring back at him with an expression of supressed surprise.

“You’re certainly a strong one,” Ronaldo said with a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“Especially when I’m angry,” Jhon retorted sharply.

Ronaldo took a slight, almost subtle step backwards. “I knew you were going to be a problem.”

“You have no idea how much of a problem I am going to be,” Jhon said as he took another step forward, dragging the chains and cement blocks with him. “Especially for you.”

Ronaldo looked at him silently for a moment, his gaze studying him, no doubt analysing how much of a threat he truly was before his jaw tightened. “I should have cursed you, too.”

“Curse, huh?” Jhon seethed. “That’s how you’re subduing Axel? Typical.”

“Pah,” Ronaldo unexpectedly spat as he turned and pushed his way through the small group of robed guards. “Subdue him! I’ll handle the others on my own!” he ordered as he made a hasty retreat.

“As you command, master,” one of the mindless minions replied and as Jhon approached the door, he found three grey robed guards formed in a small semi-circle in front of him, each one of them carrying a long spear.

“Really?” Jhon coolly returned as he wrapped his hands tighter around the chains, willingly to use them as weapons. “You really want to try me?”

The guards seemed to hesitate for a moment, but Jhon didn’t care. He was so mad. So utterly infuriated that he launched himself at the three of them.

He…didn’t really remember what happened after that. He was in a blind rage, something he had never felt before in his life. Dealing with monsters in the labyrinth was one thing. That was a different type of anger. He couldn’t afford to be enraged. Protecting his guild, his friends and family, from danger. That was what he was supposed to do.

But these…bastards in front of him was trying to stop him from doing that. He wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from doing what he needed to do.

No one was allowed to hurt his guildmates. None of them!

Jhon’s next conscious thought was when he wrapped a chain around one of the guard’s neck and pulled tightly, enough to hinder his air supply, but not restrict his breathing entirely. The other two guards…well, they appeared to be unconscious, one was slumped against the wall, head down and chin to his chest, a tickle of blood seen dripping on the grey robes. The other was lying face down on the ground a few feet away, arms straight by his sides, not making a noise or moving an inch.

Jhon shook his head as he paused for a moment in order to regain his bearings. The…threat had past. He needed to be a little more rational now.

“You've got five seconds to tell me what's happening to Axel or I'll tighten this chain,” Jhon said as twisted the guard to the ground, so that his back was toward him, allowing him the advantage.

“You wouldn't,” the guard managed to gurgle at him.

Jhon narrowed his eyes. “You have my guildmates and I trapped as prisoners in this god-forsaken hell hole. I'll do whatever it takes to protect their lives,” he stated evenly, sternly, determinedly. “Even kill you. Now what's happening to Axel? Tell me.”

Guard struggled for a moment before uttering a loud gasp, “H-he's going to be used as an offering.”

“Offering?” Jhon questioned as he furrowed his brow. “Offering for what? Are you planning on killing him?”

“L-lord Ronaldo is planning on transferring his soul in the empty shell of magical armour and then summon the soul of his beloved to inhabit his physical body.”

“What?!” Jhon yelled in shock, his eyes widening in fear.

Shit shit shit shit! He couldn’t let that happen!

“Jhon!”

“Tobyn?” Jhon muttered as he released his hold on the guard, the man falling to the floor in a slump and the chains rattled as they fell away. He turned around, only to have a pair of arms suddenly around his neck and a familiar warmth pressed against his.

Jhon sighed with intense relief as he wrapped his arms around Tobyn’s waist and rested his chin against his shoulder. He looked behind his survivalist to see three more familiar faces, all of them physically unharmed, no injuries insight.

“Jeez, Jhon,” Macerio mumbled as Tobyn suddenly pulled away from Jhon and reached for his wrists, no doubt to remove the steel cuffs that were still tightly held around them. “You sure totalled this lot.”

Jhon didn’t attempt to explain anything, he simply ran his gaze over his frightened teammates once more. He quickly counted heads; Tobyn, Macerio, Lynus, Magnus; they were all accounted for. “Is everyone ok?”

“We’re physically fine,” Lynus was the one to answer with a weak smile as he moved to stand by Tobyn and looked at Jhon’s wrists, softly uttering a healing spell to heal the bruising of the skin.

Jhon watched as Lynus healed his wrists, his heart in his throat. He couldn’t tell him what he had learnt. But…he probably already knew himself.

A loud noise, one that could only be described as a tremendous explosion caused the floor, walls, and ceiling to tremble around them and they instantly fell into defensive stances. Small pieces of debris fell from the ceiling above their heads as Lynus instinctively reached out to pull Magnus toward him while Tobyn did the same with Macerio, and Jhon made the motion to shield them with his arms.

But that noise and subsequent explosion…sounded and felt familiar.

“What now?” Macerio asked with a slight whimper in his voice.

Lynus touched his temple with his left hand and closed his eyes, seemingly concentrating. “…It’s Hamza and Shen,” he suddenly said as he eyes snapped open and he gazed up at the ceiling above them. “Lirit, Rahas, Chi-hung…they’re all here. I think…Shen just annihilated the entrance. Escaping should be easier now.”

“I’m sure Hamza is just as pissed,” Tobyn muttered under his breath.

It was reassuring that help had arrived and was coming for them, but there was still one more person in danger. And he’s very life was on the line.

Jhon reached out to take Tobyn by the shoulder and turned him toward him. “Tobyn, take Magnus and Macerio and meet up with Hamza and Shen. Lynus and I will find Axel.”

Tobyn looked startled for a moment, a protest no doubt on the tip of his tongue. However, he held it back and nodded his head slowly, an expression of understanding in his eyes. “…Right,” he said before he turned away from him to face the others. “Let’s go, you two. Magnus, if anyone gets in our way, don’t be afraid to hurt them. They deserve it.”

Magnus simply nodded his head, no hesitation in his eyes. “Ok.”

“Be careful, guys,” Macerio said as the three of them moved away from them, toward the loud rumblings in the distance.

Jhon watched them until they were out of sight before turning his attention to their medic. “Lynus?” he asked softly, now realising how pale and drawn he truly was.

Lynus didn’t attempt to smile, to reassure him. He just swallowed thickly and whispered, “He’s fading, Jhon.”

Jhon drew in a sharp intake of air through his nose and took Lynus by the arm. “…He’s waiting for us. Let’s go. I’ll take out anyone in our way.”

“Yes.”

… … … … …

Axel gritted his teeth as sweat beaded across his brow. His body was aching, in such a way he had never felt before. His arms hurt from the constant tension. His wrist burned where he was bound. His back ached against the hard stone altar. His entire body was twitching from the sheer pain of it all.

It was...it was hard to hold on. All he wanted was to sleep. But he couldn't. He wouldn't give that...that bastard any kind of leverage.

Lynus and the others, he was worried about them. Worried about Lynus being held hostage again by a delusional lord. But he could tell that he wasn't playing the fragile hostage. None of them were. He could hear them. He could hear his guildmates. He could feel the trembling of the building. They were fighting back. And they were getting destructive.

They would...find him, soon.

He just needed to hold on for a little longer.

Axel tried to supress a wince when he heard loud footsteps echo around him. He could barely see straight, but he knew a pair of those grey-robed fuckers just entered the room (ritual chamber?). He wasn’t in the mood in fending them off right now. In fact, he doubted that he could. That…that was probably why they were hurriedly approaching him.

But then…a gentle and comforting hand suddenly rested against his forehead. “God, Axel.”

Axel’s eyes immediately widened at the familiar voice and he desperately turned his head to the side. “Lynus?” he croaked out when he spied the beautiful tangerine head, leaning over him with a worried look on his face. But he was unharmed. Even with Axel’s blurry vision, he could see no marks marring his face.

Thank the gods for that.

His relief grew further when he recognised the man with the short blond hair that paused near his head. “Jhon. Fuck, are you two all right?”

“Don't worry about us,” Lynus immediately replied in a comforting way as Jhon attempted to untie the rope bounding his wrists together. “Worry about yourself for once.”

Axel felt himself slump against the stone altar, absolutely exhausted as Lynus continue to run his fingers through his hair, uttering soft healing spells under his breath as Jhon hurriedly untied his bindings. “The others?”

“They’re fine,” Jhon answered quickly. “Raising hell.”

“What in the world is all of this?” Lynus asked with a slight tremor in his voice as he skittishly looked around at their surroundings, his gaze stilling upon the form of the suit of armour situated on the other stone altar.

“Ritual to raise the dead,” Axel muttered before he sighed in relief when Jhon finally pulled the ropes away from his wrists. “The usual.”

Lynus made a soft sound of distress, yet he seemed to understand immediately. “I see,” he murmured before taking Axel’s wrists in his two hands and healing the rope burns. After he did that, he focused his attention on his shoulders, offering a few soothing healing spells there, too.

With both Lynus and Jhon’s help, Axel forced himself to sit up, though it took an ungodly amount of strength to do so. He then had to rely heavily on the two of them as he moved to slip his legs over the side of the altar. Even with their support when he tried to stand up on his own two feet, his legs immediately buckled beneath him, crumbling to the ground, nearly taking both Lynus and Jhon with him.

“Shit,” Jhon muttered as he hastily readjusted his hold on him, hoisting his arm further over his shoulder to take more of his weight, grabbing his wrist tightly as he wound his other arm around Axel’s waist. “What did he do to you?”

“Drained him of his strength.”

The darkly haunting voice caused the three of them to utter noises of surprise and they immediately turned in the direction the voice radiated from. They stayed huddled together, Jhon keeping Axel firmly pressed against his side as Lynus pressed himself against Axel’s chest. The three of them backed away from the stone altar as Ronaldo suddenly appeared from the dark shadows of the chamber, his expression wild with unadulterated rage.

“You will all pay for your insubordination,” he stated in a slow, infuriated manner, his presence more fearsome than before. “I assure you.”

Axel gritted his teeth as Lynus pressed himself closer to him and Jhon tightened his grip. He hadn’t a clue what else Ronaldo could do, but with Lynus and Jhon using all their strength to keep him upright, they won’t be able to fight back…

This was bad.

#Etrian Odyssey #etrian odyssey 2 #fanfiction #cease the suffering

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