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emmyrosee · 1 year

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IM ON MOBILE AGAIN SO IM GONNA SPAM THE EYE EMOJI TO MAKE UP FOR EARLIER READY?

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

okay done </3

AND YAYAYAY ILY TOOO!!!!

AND OK HERE IS ONE OF THE KITA THOUGHTS I WAS SAVING!!!! HE IS FREE. RELEASED BACK TO YOU!!!

I KNOW kita is your husband, but I am humbly asking you to share him for a brief moment 🙏🏻😔🤲🏻 I come to you today not with a ramble but a question:

does kita play fight? does he like it? is he more likely to react when you’re being a bit of a menace? will he pick a fight unprompted? (Okay that’s like 4 but I have him on the brain lately)

ILY !!!!!!!! ENJOY THE FOOD ^

anon <3

*sigh* I gUESS I could share him for a moment, bc I would be cruel to keep him all for myself 🫡🧡

But listen, okay. You know me. I’m crazy. I’m built different. I ruin characters.

And I know, deep down in that pretty head of Kita’s, he likes to play fight.

It’s more subtle than the others, it takes a lot more to rile him up for it, but once you get him there, it’s just. It’s perfect, okay, because it’s fun and there’s no stakes and he’s gentle enough to let it happen, but he knows you like the back of his back hand, and he knows what it takes to bring you down.

It’s the same mischievous excitement that his old teammates used to harbor, a desire to tease, to mess with respectfully, and although he never thought he’d do such juvenile forms of affection, something about the way you get him into this animalistic excitement that he usually tries to keep composed, it has him just as eager for your defiance as you are.

And he doesn’t go full out all the time. It’s a lot of manhandling to get you under his frame before either teasing you with the prospect of tickling until you plead for him to just get it over with, or spanking you in a playful manner to have you screaming in embarrassment, it’s all based on teasing you because ultimately, that’s what Kita Shinsuke does best, and you can thank his years of forcing himself to be stoic for it.

It’s working him up to that point that take the bit of elbow grease. But it sure is worth it.

“Did you take my leftovers?”

“Sure did,” you hum cockily. He furrows his brows slight and looks back at the empty container, trying to think of why you’d do that.

“I’m glad you ate, but… I’m a little upset because I was saving those-“

“Yeah, I did it because I wanted you to chase me.”

This, of course, has his brows shooting up in surprise, and he tries to fight the corners of his mouth curling up in excitement and amusement.

“Well,” he begins, setting down the container and taking a step towards you. You start giggling, and match him with a step back. “Had you just asked me to chase you, I would’ve said yes. But now-“ another step forward, watching your feet carefully to indicate the direction you’re gonna dart. “I’m not showing an ounce of mercy.” He cocks his head slightly as you whine excitedly, hands coming up to your chest in an almost protective manner. “Brat.”

“Shinsuke!” You scream, though it’s prompted with you quickly turning to run away, unable to control the excited laughter that pours from your lips. He chuckles, tosses the container into the sink before washing his hands, drying them, and immediately trying to go and find your hiding spot.

You’re never difficult to find, the apartment has 13 great hiding spots and you’ve managed to work your way into all of them at some point, but clearly, you’re not so determined to keep hiding as you’re found in spot #4, literally curled under the clothes in his closet.

He pushes them to the side, props his hands on his knees and leans in real close, smirking softly while you whine nervously. “Hi, my love.”

“Go away!”

“Why must you provoke me?” He sighs, making a reach for you while you dodge and try to scramble away. “We could be so affectionate like normal couples, but instead, you’ve got to poke every nerve a bear has.”

“Leave me alone!” You squeal, but he does the exact opposite as he uses his massive arms to pull you up and out of the closet and over his shoulder, completely immune to the kicking and writhing of your body on his arm. He tosses you onto the bed before crawling over your frame, pinning you under his massive body with a smirk.

“We both know that’s not what you really want, isn’t it?”

But but bUT BUT OKAY, BUTTA BUTTA BUT, Shinsuke’s not a man of stone. Despite you being the common denominator for any act of play fighting, on the rarest occasions, the phases of the moon change, when the planets align, he comes to you.

And he doesn’t provoke you, he’s not a menace, all he’ll do is come up to you with a big, sweet grin on his face, knock his head against your temple, and when you purr and just think he’s being affectionate, he whispers words you relish every time.

“Hey… wanna fight?”

“Physically, or emotionally?” You tease, but you feel the shrill of excitement down your spine as he tugs at the hem of your shirt eagerly. He chuckles and shakes his head, clearly wanting to let some of the rare energy he’s got bottled out.

“I want to pin you down.”

“Excuse me!” You scream, pulling away in shock and smacking his chest, cheeks blazing hot and grin plastered wide on your cheeks. “Shinsuke!” You giggle, trying to make a move to walk away (although it’s truly a way to encourage his chase) and your heart beats faster as he follows. “What has gotten into you!”

“I’m allowed to have my feral moments as well.” He doesn’t say much else before he smiles, an innocent gleam in them as he makes a lunge for you.

And if chasing you around the house and making you scream with laughter is what he needs to do to feed that feralness, who would you be to deny?

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light-lanterne · 1 year

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so, i got an ask on my other account about my spanish teacher from middle school, who i briefly mentioned in a little post about how her daughter is now living in my building.

in the (now deleted for aesthetic reasons) post i'd made, i mentioned how this teacher used to bully me and this person now wants to know a bit more and i know i don't owe it to anyone, but i don't have anyone to talk about this with and i want to vent so why not ?

tw for bullying and ableism

anyway, i'm not going to share everything this teacher did (we'll be here all day), but allow me to explain the crux of the problem she had with me:

ever since i was a kid, i've always struggled with anxiety related conditions and one of them is selective mutism. it started at a very young age and my mom worked really hard to get me through it and, while i still fell back into it every once in a while, i was mostly over it by the time i entered middle school.

enter this teacher. she was strict and way too demanding in some aspects, but i've always been good at adapting to such personalities so my grades and schoolwork weren't the problem.

the problem was the way i talk.

you see, i have a condition called rhotacism. it basically means that the little ligament under my tongue is shorter than average and, as a result, i can't really articulate the letter "r". i've always had this problem, but other than some bullying in primary school, it's never been much of an issue for me.

until this teacher took an issue with it. almost from the start of my first year of middle school, she started poking fun at me for it: she would always correct me when i "said something wrong", she would make me read passages with a lot of r sounds, and she would claim that the reason i couldn't pronounce it was not something physical (which it is), but something neurological.

she claimed something was wrong with my brain and would call me all the common slurs. at least once a day, she would make sure to humiliate me in front of all my classmates (who naturally followed her lead so yay for that).

it sucked. and it made me very self-conscious and anxious. but it didn't stop there.

i think it was one or two months into my second year of middle school that she tried to get me expelled. her reasoning was that i was clearly in need of special-needs education and that she couldn't properly give class with me in there. moreover, she claimed my classmates couldn't understand me (they could), so i was actively affecting their education and that wasn't fair to them.

so she made a big fuss about it and it didn't really go too far, the principal was smart enough to know that it was all bull and it could get bad for them if she were allowed to continue, but it did take a toll on my 13-year-old self.

so i stopped talking. i'd only do it when needed to keep my grades up, but other than that i wouldn't talk to anyone ever,,, even if this obviously added fuel to the fire.

she got nastier with her insults. she moved me to the back of the classroom even if i couldn't read the whiteboard. she would pretend i was breaking random rules like "not drawing in class" so she could send me to detention (i actually really liked drawing back then,,, so maybe i was an artist at one point but she took that away from me x.x ), and she would complain about how i was good at english when i "couldn't even speak" my own language

(english has softer r sounds than spanish, especially if i use a british accent,,, also, my english teacher was not a meanie >.< )

it got really bad, so bad i eventually managed to get the principal on her case (we had a nativity play thingy and she wanted to make me a piggy, when all my other classmates got to be human :\ i ended up as a background shepherd in the end) and by my last year of middle school, she finally toned it down,,,

,,,via not speaking to me in the slightest, and encouraging my classmates to do the same. i think they even stopped using my name all year, which raised concerns from the most random teachers (who i thought didn't care) but there was little they could do about it :[

alas, it beat the bullying and i've never had a problem with being alone, so i got a bittersweet break and i managed to be top of my class despite everything. so i guess i won in the end.

nevertheless, i never knew why she had a problem with me. i think she didn't like my brother all that much either (he's two years older than me, so he was on his way out by the time the bullying started), but i don't really know. all i know is that this teacher was very mean and left me with a lot of problems (including the selective mutism, which is now here to stay woo) so, by all means, i think i am righteous to say that she was a bully,,, abuser, i'd even say,,, and that i hope she never sees me when she comes visit her daughter.

(all because i can't pronounce some words properly and have trouble hearing,,,)

#⚰️#🧸

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kryjjovnik · 9 months

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i remember when i was little me & my grandpa were walking on the street, i think it was autumn and raining, or maybe it was summer and bright out. but i was preschool or first/second grade age, and as i looked at a dirty bus passing us by i noticed an older boy sitting in one of the seats. if somebody asked me then, i would’ve said he was 13 or 14, but in retrospect maybe he was 11. he was just noticeably older, but clearly not a grown teenager or an adult.

and as i looked at him I thought about how many things we see, how many people we meet and love, and how many moments affect us. and then it all gets buried in time, people say they didn’t mean the words they’ve once said, things they’ve done, emotions they’ve felt. people live, buildings get torn down and no one remembers the spider living under the staircase. and as 5 y/o me stood there I thought “that’s such bullshit”

he was such an ordinary boy. but as i looked at him I felt and realized those things so deeply. i don’t know if we made eye contact or not, but i think we did. because i felt a very strong connection. im pretty damn sure we did. i was shy, so i might’ve looked away and tried to act “cool” whatever the fuck that means for a 6 year old.

either way, i remember looking at him and perceiving him, and caring about him, wondering what’s on his mind, where he’s going, what his worldview is like, where he will be in 5 years. 10 years. 20. where would I be? would I be alive? thinking about the extent that people can care about one another. can you care if you don’t fully know? but we rarely if ever fully know or understand anything, even if we think we do, because we’re trapped in a little thinking flesh prison.

but anyway, i knew that i know next to nothing about him. and i realized i don’t want to forget it. like actually not forget it. memories get so warped and shaped by absolutely everything — time, how we feel, how many times we recall a memory, if we ever change it ourselves, consciously or unconsciously. i knew i’d probably never see him again, considering i was little in a big city. i had no idea where his bus was going. i had no idea if he was just visiting. i’ve wondered if we’ll ever cross paths and knew that if we did we’d probably have no idea. if he thought anything of me, he probably forgot the second he turned away, or the bus moved out of sight — whichever came first.

and in that moment i fully accepted that. that I’ll forget parts of it, that he is objectively an insignificant part of maybe 1 minute of my time (if there was a traffic jam) but i saw him, not just his looks, but all of him, not much but I’ve fully perceived everything I could in those seconds, and it truly was important to me. to see and to see clearly and not add assumptions or bias into his image, however much it is humanely possible.

and i realized i never want to forget him. i think of him very rarely, i think i must’ve gone years without recalling this at one point, or maybe I did remember and forgot that i remembered now. and it’s counterintuitive but maybe that’s why I still remember. like i subconsciously made a pact with my brain to not recall it unless the moment is “right”.

but i thought of him today. and i remember him. and i think i always will. i may not remember the weather, or what exactly he was wearing, or where I was going but I remember him. not an idea of him, him. the stranger i knew i will probably never know, never be friends with, never have a crush on. but we saw each other and i remember him. and I remember that there may be a lot I don’t remember.

i hope he is well, if he’s still around, wherever he may be. and when I remember him I wonder if at that young age I was already blessed and cursed with caring more deeply than others.

#yeah I’m pouring out my soul #personal #mine

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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I'm fond of time travel aus, especially yours, so what if just LWJ travelled back to the gusu lectures, either during the 13/16 years or after all the events of canon.

Lan Wangji walked slowly towards the room where his uncle’s lectures were held. He had no reason to drag his feet – this was a chance to change the past for the better, to stop so many terrible things from happening – and yet, he couldn’t resist going even more slowly than usual.

He was a little worried. So much rested on his shoulders.

What would be the right place to make the first change?

“Enjoy the lecture, Wangji,” his brother said as he passed him, returning from his own morning chores.

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said noncommittally.

“Wait,” Lan Xichen said, stopping and turning to look at him. “Hold on. What happened?”

Lan Wangji hesitated.

“Something big?”

“It isn’t –”

“How bad?” Lan Xichen’s eyes went wide. “That bad? How many people died?”

Lan Wangji winced – the answer was, of course, a very great deal, but that was all in the future and hadn’t happened yet – but Lan Xichen read the answer off of him at once.

“That many deaths couldn’t have happened without me knowing,” Lan Xichen said, clearly thinking it through. “And you were fine yesterday. Was it a dream? No, you wouldn’t panic over a dream. Did something happen at night –”

“I’ve returned from the future to change the past,” Lan Wangji blurted out. He couldn’t help it. He’d never been a good liar, and it’d been such a long time since he’d seen his brother so energic over anything…

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, and visibly relaxed. “Okay. That’s fine. As long as you’re all right, and nobody’s died yet. Let me help?”

When he put it that way – how could Lan Wangji say no?

“Wangji?” his uncle called as he entered the hanshi. It was a little early for lectures to be finished – it must have been one of the shorter days, perhaps.

“In here, with me,” Lan Xichen called.

Lan Qiren entered, a worried furrow in his brow. “You missed the lecture. I was concerned.”

Lan Wangji bowed his head. He’d gotten so caught up with talking with his brother that he had forgotten – it was strange, to still have responsibilities that meant going places he was told to go, doing what he was told to do. It’d been years since he had been the one attending classes, rather than teaching them.

And Lan Xichen had acted so naturally about it all that he’d just forgotten. And in forgetting, he’d worried his uncle, which he hadn’t meant to do – his uncle had always meant well, even when they disagreed. He hadn’t allowed his affection for Lan Wangji to stop him from doing what he believed to be the right thing, such as in the battle against Wei Wuxian, but in every other instant he was often Lan Wangji’s staunchest ally within the sect.

It’d been his forceful arguments that had convinced the rest of the sect to allow a formal marriage between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, when Lan Wangji had been certain that the most he would ever get was a quiet understanding and being left alone.

“Wangji’s returned from the future,” Lan Xichen announced. “He’s nearly as old as you are, and married.”

“Married?” Lan Qiren asked. “To who? That Wei boy?”

Lan Wangji turned to stare.

His uncle looked back at him. “What? Did you think you were being subtle?”

Lan Wangji opened and closed his mouth. He knew he wasn’t, of course, but he’d assumed his lack of subtlety had started…somewhat later in life. According to Lan Xichen, he hadn’t known Wei Wuxian for more than a week at this point.

“My relationship is not what I returned to fix,” he finally said. “There are other events –”

“It is that Wei boy!” His uncle looked – delighted? What? “An excellent choice, Wangji. You’re well matched.”

Lan Wangji felt his ears turning red. His uncle had certainly never said that to him in his past life.

Of course, if he had, Lan Wangji as he had been back then might have died of pure mortification, so it was probably for the best.

“You think so?” Lan Xichen asked. “He seems a bit – excitable –”

“It’ll be good for Wangji to have a challenge,” his uncle said, his eyes curving in a smile. “Someone to excite him every day.”

“I came to tell you about war,” Lan Wangji said, a little desperate to make them stop. “With the Wen sect -”

“The inevitability of war can wait,” Lan Qiren said. “First – do you have any children?”

“…one.”

“You have a child!” Lan Xichen exclaimed. “Wangji! You didn’t say! How wonderful! You have to tell us everything!”

Lan Wangji wondered exactly how he had reached this point.

Nie Huaisang had developed a new habit that Lan Wangji didn’t know what to make of.

It hadn’t happened in his first life – certainly not at the Cloud Recesses, but not at any other point thereafter – and that made it strange. For a little while, Lan Wangji was afraid that Nie Huaisang had also returned from the future, since he wouldn’t put it past the Headshaker to have figured out his own way back for his own purposes, but after feeling him out a little he didn’t think so.

But that made what he was doing all the stranger.

From what Lan Wangji remembered, Nie Huaisang had been a little afraid of him during this time, and had largely avoided him, preferring to spend time with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng. So why was he now following him around, talking about all manner of random things? He often didn’t even provide context for the subjects he brought up, and sometimes merely listed off names of people or places or even sometimes things.

It was totally nonsensical.

At first, Lan Wangji tried to ignore him, but it had no impact whatsoever. Nie Huaisang just continued what he was doing.

In the end, Lan Wangji cracked first, turning to him all at once while they were walking alone in the garden - or, well, Lan Wangji was walking his patrols, and Nie Huaisang was tagging along. “What are you doing?”

“Getting answers,” Nie Huaisang answered promptly, as if he’d only been waiting for Lan Wangji to ask.

Lan Wangji frowned at him.

Nie Huaisang was still young at this point – young and lazy and frivolous. But Lan Wangji had seen what steel lay beneath, in the years to come, and he would not make the mistake of underestimating him as so many others did.

“What answers?” he asked. “To what questions?”

“I want to know the future, of course!” Nie Huaisang said. “And since it’s obvious that you know it, I’m picking your brain.”

Lan Wangji stared.

His brother figuring it out, he could understand. His uncle had been told directly. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have surprised him, being both a genius and Lan Wangji’s soulmate. But – Nie Huaisang?

“How?” he asked.

“You very suddenly changed in how you reacted to things,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “I tried to think of all the reasons there might be for it, given the constraints of time and place, and I’ve been testing and eliminating various options ever since. You wince when you think about someone who gets hurt eventually, you know.”

“…I do?”

Nie Huaisang nodded.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lan Wangji asked. The Nie Huaisang of the future was capable of an amazing degree of deception – he could not bring himself to believe that the younger version had been so careless by accident. Especially not with how eager he was to answer Lan Wangji’s questions.

“I want details,” Nie Huaisang said. “Obviously.”

“No.” Lan Wangji didn’t need to think twice about it. It was one thing to tell his family – he hadn’t planned to, but they knew him too well for him to avoid it – and entirely another to let the master schemer have such an advantage.

Nie Huaisang caught his arm.

“I don’t think you entirely understand, Lan-er-gonzi,” he said. “You flinch whenever anyone says my brother’s name. I want to know why, and I want to stop it from happening.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find that steel core so near to the surface, even this young, and yet somehow it was.

“And if I refuse?” he asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“You won’t. You have a big brother, too, and you flinch when his name gets said if you’re not paying attention.”

Nie Huaisang was really too smart.

“I won’t,” he agreed. “But supposing I did, what would have been your next step?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Nie Huaisang said. “I would have asked your brother to get it out of you.”

Lan Wangji sighed.

#mdzs #lan wangji #lan xichen #lan qiren #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #vyther15

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sokkagatekeeper · 3 years

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what do you think sokka and katara would think of bakoda? i haven’t seen much thoughtful analysis of it and it always frustrates me bc they’re clearly somewhat resentful of their father for leaving in their own ways so for him to leave, at least in part or in sokka/katara’s young eyes, because of kya’s murder, and then come back in a relationship with a fellow warrior i feel like would be a lot and i can’t see them accepting that so easily

this is like a month old god bless. anyway!

assuming bato and hakoda enter a relationship somewhat during/recently after the war when the wound is still fresh, i do think katara would be resentful of it, like anon said, not bc bato is a man or anything but bc 1. katara is very attached to the memory of her mother, and often gets defensive when she feels the memory of her is being disrespected or dismissed, like when the gaang had been already acclimating to zuko where katara couldn’t separate the image of him from the man who killed her mother and took it as a personal offence bc to katara everything is personal, or when sokka, who lost the same mother the same way, didn’t want revenge the same desperate way katara thought she did, and 2. katara resents her father for leaving them and tells him so, even though she rationally knows leaving was something hakoda had to do given the circumstances, and that he did not leave them willingly, katara does feel betrayed.

for this, i think katara would indeed feel betrayed and hesitant to welcome bato into the family in that particular way rather than a close friend of her father’s, and i do believe she would feel as if the role of her mother was being dismissed once again. she rationally knows, this is not happening, but katara guides herself through her emotions, as u can see. i think she would try to find a shelter in sokka in that sense (bc sokka is dealing with this in his own way just bear with me) since sokka is keeping pretty quiet about the whole thing, and katara obviously feels more comfortable/at ease/confidant/whatever around sokka than hakoda.

she and bato & hakoda would go through a very turbulent period of adaptation for a few months perhaps? (since the situation with hakoda at the start of book three was more urgent and katara hadn’t seen her father in years, she did miss him and didn’t want to be angry at him for so long, this time around katara would feel more safe in her own anger. in my opinion) until katara is ready to open up about how she feels about the entire situation. after this, things do start to settle down in a sort of peace, although i believe bato would still have to work his way into katara’s trust the way she trusted him before for a couple of years.

and because katara and sokka are different people (which so many of you refuse to understand. for some reason??) i think sokka’s reaction would be somewhat different than katara’s in the sense that sokka would put the focus on bato, rather than kya. sokka looks up to hakoda an enormous deal; in sokka’s eyes, hakoda is the prime example of a man, a warrior and a leader, and everything sokka should aspire to be. while he does unlearn to compare every single thing he does to how hakoda would do them and learns to value his own personal qualities for what they are independant of the idea of his father, the idolization of his person will always sort of be there existing deep down in sokka’s brain.

sokka also deals with a bunch of internalized homophobia throughout the show given his previous belief that women couldn’t be strong and men couldn’t be weak and so anything that broke that norm was fundamentally flawed. the idea of hakoda, sokka’s picture perfect of a man and masculinity, is in love with and dating another man would indeed mess with sokka a little bit. i believe he would need some time to consider the situation and reconcile his idea of hakoda with the man that hakoda actually is, sokka’s own bisexuality with hakoda’s, the entire concept of masculinity itself again, just many dots to connect. he stays quiet about it, maybe cracks a few jokes, represses any conflicting feelings he could have about kya and bato. then again beyond the idolization of hakoda that sokka makes, he also feels more at ease with katara than with hakoda bc they basically raised each other, so he would also put a lot of focus on how katara feels about this entire thing, which hakoda & bato might misunderstand as sokka feeling the exact same way as katara which is. an issue.

sokka comes to his senses eventually, probably after a talk with hakoda about his relationship with bato and how he dealt with the entire thing, and moves on as if nothing had happened. while initially katara would be hurt and angry, sokka would be confused and conflicted. while katara grows more and more accepting and understanding with time, sokka... well!

sokka has a tendency to repress his negative emotions. while he does complain about trivial inconveniences, he never brings up the things that actually affect him. he doesn’t show any resentment towards hakoda for leaving, but he does have reasons to be resentful. sokka’s problem throughout the show is that he doesn’t understand that he’s a child and deserved to have a childhood. he puts all the responsibility he must on his shoulders and deals with it the way he can, he never gets angry about this burden of his like katara does, yknow, like any eldest sibling. it would take a long while before sokka is ready to understand that what he went through was unfair and that he’s allowed to grieve his mother and be angry at hakoda for leaving him in charge of an entire community at the age of 13. while i have my doubts on whether or not sokka would even allow himself to have this (as like, an eldest sibling myself) i do allow myself a little wishful thinking. so when that entire weight of those years of unfairness hit sokka, this might have an effect on his feelings & perspective on hakoda’s relationship w/ bato, but i can’t rlly imagine any specifics of this scenario, merely the reason why this would happen at all. then again this is just speculation, so who’s to say!!

#not proof read <3 if u see a typo its actually bc i invented a new word #asks #anon #anon i am so sorry LMAO i took so long 2 answer this for like no reason #n #katara #sokka #hakoda #bakoda #(??#headcanons #after the war #sokka&katara #swt #long post

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

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CNS Spin Off - What is This Feeling?

Park Seonghwa x Kim Hongjoong

Word Count: 636

Contents: Hongjoong being mean

Seonghwa braced himself as he walked towards the cabin with Haknyeon and Eric hanging off of him. They seemed preoccupied with their chattering which was good because Seonghwa was a little lost in his own mind. With each day that went by Hongjoong was worse and worse to him. He stayed out of Hongjoong’s way as much as he could in hopes that he would just get left alone but usually he still had to field some rude comment said under his breath so the campers wouldn’t hear.

He wished he still had the energy to tease Hongjoong. It was more fun that way, flirting in response to his nastiness at least gave Seonghwa something to look forward to. But ever since he had tried to talk to Hongjoong about what happened on the camping trip he had been much more hostile.

And…

Some part deep inside Seonghwa felt bad about teasing him. It was one thing when people were just bothering them and he thought it just annoyed Hongjoong. It was another to know that it was actually affecting Hongjoong. That it actively upset him.

Seonghwa let out a heavy, unconscious sigh. Hongjoong clearly didn’t care about his feelings. He could brush off most of what Hongjoong said but being around someone who was so acidic towards him was wearing on him. It should be easy not to care about Hongjoong’s feelings. But he couldn’t forget what he said. No matter how drunk he was, and no matter what he said later, something told Seonghwa that what Hongjoong said in that moment was true.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to be mean to Hongjoong because of it.

“Why did you sigh?” Questioned Eric.

“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s attention was pulled back to the two 13 year olds hanging off of his arms.

“You sighed,” Said Haknyeon. “Why?”

“No reason,” Seonghwa mumbled.

“There’s always a reason,” Eric pressed.

“Is it us?” Haknyeon asked.

“No no!” Seonghwa said quickly. “No, of course not. It’s complicated grown up stuff, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh my god, it’s something dirty!” Eric gasped.

“NO!”

“Wait, is it??” Asked Haknyeon.

“No!” Seonghwa felt embarrassment flushing through him. “It’s nothing like that! Really, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m too curious not to guess,” Eric said.

“I bet we can figure it out,” Said Haknyeon brightly.

“No- I- You guys-” But they had already broken away from Seonghwa, hurrying to the cabin. They pushed open the door ahead of him, making a beeline to sit with Sunwoo. The three of them started to whisper and giggle as they looked over at Seonghwa.

Perfect.

“What did you tell them?” Seonghwa turned his attention to Hongjoong who was by the door, organizing things.

“Nothing,” Seonghwa muttered. “You know how they get.”

“Make sure to leave me out of it.”

Seonghwa felt the all too familiar frustration bubbling up in him yet again. “Why would you be in it?”

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong sighed. “But I’d like it if people don’t think I have anything to do with you.”

God why couldn’t he just yell? He wished there was some way to confront Hongjoong with what he had said. No one would say a word about them if Hongjoong was just chill around him and didn’t act the way he did. None of this had needed to happen. It was all Hongjoong’s fault and somehow the blame kept falling on Seonghwa.

“You act like I want people to pair us together.”

“Look, I don’t know what goes on in your stupid brain, just leave me out of it.”

Seonghwa took a deep breath, swallowing back his anger. Hongjoong had some nerve. These had to be some next level type of projecting, as if Seonghwa was the one with suppressed feelings.

“Gladly,” Seonghwa hissed, stalking towards his bed.

#cns au #camp north star au #spin off #what is this feeling #ateez imagines #kim hongjoong imagines #hongjoong imagines #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa imagines

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Secret Love Part 5 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So I was supposed to post this yesterday, but it was not a good day for me mentally and I just didn’t really get online. So it’s a day late but I think this is a chapter that will have you all freaking out so I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: cursing, PG-13 sexual activities.

Word Count: 1,911

~~~~

Waking up wrapped in Cale’s arms was a shock to your system but one that made you feel warm and safe. The competing mindsets made you gasp, and for a moment you feared you’d woken Cale. Instead, he just tightened his grip on your body, forcing you to snuggle even further into his mostly naked figure.

As you laid in his arms, your body became attuned to the feeling of his breath on your neck, the way the muscles in his arms twitched, and the solid length of him pressed against you in more ways than one. Heat flooded your core at the feeling of his dick pressed against your ass and you cursed yourself, carefully trying to extricate yourself from his arms.

Tiptoeing out of his room, you grabbed a pair of leggings from your bag along with a sweater and clean undergarments. Though you debated just changing, you did need to shower so you snuck back through Cale’s room into the bathroom, praying that the sound of the water didn’t disturb him.

With the heated spray working to alleviate the aches from dancing last night, you rubbed your temples trying to figure out what the hell had happened last night. Okay so you knew what had happened, you weren’t drunk, but you couldn’t figure out why it had happened. Were things actually different between you and Cale or were you just imagining it? He’d just been screwed over hard by his girlfriend of almost three years and you were someone he knew he could trust. That had to explain the increased affection right?

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Cale popped his head in to ask if you were almost done and you called back that you just needed another minute or two. Rushing through the rest of your shower, you quickly dried off and got dressed before slipping out of the bathroom.

“It’s all yours!” You called to Cale as you retreated to the couch. You prayed that you had some plans for the day because otherwise you might actually drive yourself crazy.

Thankfully Laura and Gary came through, and for the next two days you ran around Denver, all of the sights and sounds providing the exact distraction that you needed. By the end of the day you were exhausted and you quickly passed out on the couch with only minimal conversation with Cale.

On your final day in Denver, Cale played an afternoon game, an upsetting loss in overtime. Gary and Laura wanted to go to a brewery after the game, but that really wasn’t your thing so Cale suggested you just have a relaxing night watching tv in his apartment instead. He’d ordered takeout, and the two of you had sprawled across his couch with reruns of some sitcom playing in the background.

After dinner he’d suggested opening a bottle of wine and snuggled beside him under his new blanket, one glass became two and two became three. Soon the two of you were working on finishing off your second bottle and you’d reached the point where every nerve ending in your body was humming.

“You know...we haven’t spent this much time together since...well honestly I can’t remember when…” Cale murmured against your head. “It’s been really nice.” He added.

“Yeah you’re not so bad to hang out with.” You teased, pressing the side of your face into his shoulder. It still amazed you sometimes that while you were four and a half years older, he was just so much bigger than you in every way. It made you feel safe and with the wine swirling around your brain it made you wonder what it would be like to have him on top of you, pressing you into the mattress.

You didn’t have to wait long to sort of find out, with your mind off on a tangent you missed Cale trying to get your attention until his fingers were digging into your sides, tickling you as a shrill squeal left your throat. Somehow he’d ended up hovering over you on the couch as you squirmed away from him and the way his blue eyes stared down at you made you freeze. What felt like cracks of electricity passed between you, until finally Cale let out a long sigh and climbed off of you, tucking you back into his side.

Though nothing had happened, it felt like everything between the two of you had shifted.

“Am I crazy?” Cale mumbled eventually.

“I mean you do play a sport where you’re getting hit by 200 pound guys into boards every few nights…” You cheekily replied, trying to cover the way your heart was pounding by making light of his words.

“Y/N…” Cale grumbled, his fingers coming up to run through his hair. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” He sighed. “Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me that you feel this too.” Swallowing hard, you ran your fingers through your hair as well.

“You’re not crazy.” You spoke, your tone hushed. As he shifted to look at you, you dropped your gaze to your lap. Quickly, his fingers moved to lift your chin, forcing you to look at him. His expression was hopeful but his eyes gave way to the fear and confusion you were also feeling.

“There’s a spark.” He sounded so sure of himself with that statement that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. “I’ve never felt that with anyone else.” His fingers trailed from your jaw to tangle in your hair, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “How have I never noticed this before...you before?” You didn’t have an answer to that, instead, you just shivered at the way he was touching you, like you were the most precious thing on the planet.

“Come ‘ere.” His request was merely a formality because he was already pulling you into his lap as he spoke it. With your hips now straddling his, you watched as his fingers traced patterns down your arms before he laced his fingers with yours. “Is this okay?” He asked after a moment, genuine concern for your comfort dripping from his words.

“Yes.” You agreed as your pulse slammed through your veins even harder than before.

“Shit.” Cale groaned after a moment, the sound of it sending heat to your core. “I always thought this was just some silly cliche teenage crush.” Your eyes went wide at his words and your body tensed slightly, though Cale picked up on both immediately. “You know, falling for your best friend who is too old and too beautiful to ever want anything to do with a kid. Not that you’re too old now...but a few years ago…” You nodded because you knew what he was trying to say. When he was 15, you were by all societal standards too old for him to even consider there being something there; but now...21 (almost 22) and 26 was a different ball game.

“For years I wished it was just a teenage crush…” You breathed.

“You….?” Cale didn’t need to verbalize the question for you to understand what he was asking and letting down your guard fully you nodded.

“I got really good at pretending.” You admitted. For a moment Cale’s eyes grazed over your lips as his hands moved to tug your hips against his. Then his eyes met yours, and seeing no sign of rejection, he tangled a hand in your hair before pulling your mouth onto his.

As you kissed him back, you slid your own hand around his neck, securing his body to your own. He tasted like the wine you’d been drinking all night and suddenly you just felt warm from head to toe. The kiss started gently but deepened until you were both left breathing heavily upon parting.

“Shit...can we do that again?” He mumbled, the look in his eyes sending another chill through your body in excitement. Kissing him again, you took the time to explore all of the feelings that just kissing him created. His hands ran up and down your back while yours locked onto his shoulders. Every so often, your hips would rock against his and he’d moan, ratcheting the kiss up another level. It wasn’t long before you felt him grow hard between your bodies and though you didn’t want to, you forced yourself to pull away.

“Killing me…” Cale grumbled, his head thrown against the back of the couch as he stared at you with blown pupils and swollen lips.

“You’ve been killing me all week with those wandering hands of yours.” You replied. “Not to mention dragging me to bed with you almost nude the other night.” Cale’s eyes went wide and you realized that he didn’t remember that at all. “What’s the last thing you remember at the bar the other night?” You asked, giggling softly.

“I remember watching Gravy walk over to you at the bar…” He mentioned, the flush on his cheeks growing rosier again.

“So you don’t remember dancing with me? The question you asked me?” Cale shook his head and you felt your own cheeks heat up.

“What did I say?” He sighed, fingers running back through his hair.

“You uh...you asked me if women like receiving oral because Sara never let you try…” You felt Cale’s groan through your entire body, the sound of it only serving to turn you on. “And then once I got you home, I sent you to get ready for bed while I got you water and pain meds and next thing I know you’re pulling me into bed with you and you wouldn’t let me go.” Cale’s head hit your shoulder as he mumbled out an apology.

“It was a little awkward but it’s okay.” You assured him, nails scraping over the back of his neck. “It was more awkward waking up to your morning wood.” You teased, giggling until suddenly you were flat on your back once more, Cale’s length still pressing against you.

“You mean this?” He growled softly, his hips rocking against yours. You gasped at the feeling and at how forward Cale was being. You didn’t know this side of him but you were quickly growing to like it. “This is all because of you. All you have to do is bite your lip or scrape your nails against the back of my neck and just like that I’m hard as a rock.” Cale’s lips dropped to press light kisses against your neck. “Fuck.” He breathed, clearly trying to settle his own body. “It’s never been this easy.” Pocketing that statement in the back of your mind for a later conversation, you eased his mouth back to yours, kissing him gently.

“Our timing kinda sucks you know…” You sighed, your thumbs brushing over his red cheeks.

“I know…” He agreed, climbing off of you.

“Can we just...I just...kiss me and we can worry about everything else later?” You pleaded. Cale’s mouth slanted over yours in compliance and you stayed that way, sharing lazy kisses, until long after the sun had set. As you dozed against him, Cale carried you to his bed, wrapping you in his arms. There wasn’t enough time to explore everything he wanted to with you, but he was going to make the most of what time you did have, whispered promises of summer spilling from his lips.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #cavalanche #038

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 8

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3629 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Nico Robin, Usopp, Sanji, Vergo Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Robin watched as Luffy came out of the infirmary, a smile on his face as he shut the door behind him. She’d left an ear on the desk, disguised by her book, and she had to admit she was surprised by the conversation—especially that Luffy had gotten their guest (prisoner, despite what Luffy wanted) to volunteer his name. During her time with the Revolutionary Army, she’d known of many attempts by the Revolutionaries and others to learn Corazon’s real name. She filed the name Trafalgar Law away to look into later while once more marveling at her captain’s ability to read—and reach—people.

She rose from her seat and walked over to Luffy, who’d been intercepted by Usopp just outside the door.

“So, what happened?” Usopp was asking, glancing between Luffy and the closed door.

“We talked,” Luffy said, entwining his fingers behind his head. “Torao’s a good guy!”

Usopp frowned. “Torao?”

“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckled. “His name!”

Bemused, Usopp glanced at Robin, who smiled. “I believe our captain convinced Corazon to reveal his real name.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I asked,” Luffy replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Perhaps it was to him. Usopp sputtered, and Robin patted his shoulder.

“Usopp’s right, though.” They looked up to see Sanji emerge from the kitchen. He was still moving carefully, but he looked much better than when they’d first arrived outside the lab. “Names have power, and that guy’s been going by an alias for years. Why share something so dangerous with his enemies?”

There were a number of potential answers to that question, but Robin had a feeling it was the Luffy Effect in action.

“We’re not enemies,” Luffy said, crossing his arms and frowning.

“He tried to kill us!” Usopp protested.

“He electrocuted me,” Sanji added, lighting a cigarette.

“And we have him locked up in Seastone,” Robin felt obliged to point out.

But Luffy shook his head. “Jimbei made it sound like he took a big risk helping us at Marineford. He said that Mingo guy would be angry, but he did it anyway.”

Robin knew the rumors about Doflamingo’s abilities, his crew, and his underground operations. His cruelty and brutality. Doflamingo saw his crew as a family, with his executives being his most trusted. And he did not stand for disloyalty in his Family. She could only imagine how he might have reacted to his second-in-command helping rival pirates.

“Luffy,” she said gently, waiting for her captain’s eyes to find her, “Corazon was already infamous when we met him on Sabaody. But over the last two years, his reputation has only gotten darker. They call him the Surgeon of Death.”

She had a feeling this wouldn’t dissuade him—little tended to once Luffy had made his mind up about something or someone—but she wanted to make sure he knew anyway.

As expected, Luffy shook his head again while Usopp spluttered in the background. “He saved me.”

There had been endless speculation over the last two years about why Corazon had saved Luffy and Jimbei, ranging from an attempted coup within the Family to a secret love affair (Robin had laughed aloud when this had been floated).

As she’d sat in the infirmary waiting for Corazon to regain consciousness, she found herself watching him. From what she could work out about him, he was a few years younger than her yet had risen to the rank of second in command of the Donquixote Pirates more than half a decade earlier; how young had he been when he had joined such an infamous pirate group to rise so high at such a young age? She knew a thing or two about joining criminal organizations and the way they took advantage of children.

Corazon’s defensiveness upon waking up had been unsurprising, and she again found herself wondering why he had saved Luffy—but then she’d seen the way he’d frozen when Luffy had entered the room, the breath catching in his throat and something in his expression. And he’d given Luffy his real name.

“Luffy,” Usopp said, pulling Robin from her thoughts, “the guy he works for owns this lab where they are experimenting on kids. He’s trying to protect that.”

Luffy huffed. “I don’t know how to explain it. I can just feel it,” he said, a hand going to his chest where the scar—from Corazon’s life-saving operation—was hidden under his winter coat. “I can feel that he’s a good person. He helped me, and I think maybe I’m supposed to help him.”

Robin exchanged glances with Sanji and Usopp. They all knew Luffy’s senses when it came to people were beyond rational explanation but somehow right. Robin in particular knew the power of Luffy’s intuition, having been saved from her own darkness because he wouldn’t let her go. If that intuition was telling him that Corazon—Trafalgar Law—was similarly important and worth helping, then there wasn’t much more to argue.

That was the Luffy Effect.

“Okay,” Robin said.

Sanji and Usopp took a moment longer but also nodded grudgingly. They might not understand it, but they’d trust their captain. (But, if need be, they’d protect him, too.)

-----

Once the door shut behind Straw Hat, Law dropped his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted. His head throbbed from the hit from Zoro’s blade, and he considered getting up to look for some painkillers in the infirmary supplies but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Outside the door, he could hear the Straw Hats talking, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

As he sat there, he couldn’t stop Straw Hat’s words from playing over and over in his mind.

“Jimbei said that you’d be in trouble with that Mingo guy for helping us, and I was worried. Were you? In trouble?”

“I fail to see how that matters.”

“But you helped me anyway. And I’m grateful! So, you’re a good guy. No matter what anyone says.”

“No, I’m really not. You should listen to Nico-ya.”

“Nope, I can feel it. Right here.”

Law had no illusions about what kind of person he was. He’d joined the Donquixote Pirates as a terminally ill ten-year-old, determined to do as much damage as he could before he died, and in many ways, he’d never outgrown that broken boy with bombs on his chest. He was the second in command to one of the biggest names in the slave trade, among other morally reprehensible operations. And though he was a doctor, he’d killed more than he’d saved, the letters tattooed on his fingers a promise as much as a warning.

Perhaps worst of all, though, he’d stopped feeling anything when he killed.

He shuddered to think what Cora-san would think of the man he’d become.

And yet, Straw Hat looked at him and—impossibly—saw something worthwhile. Felt that Law was something worthwhile. Felt it in the same place Law had felt the tug that pulled him to Marineford two years earlier.

What did it mean?

What did Law do with that?

The Seastone cuffs weighed heavily on his wrists, clanking as he opened his eyes and rubbed his face through his hands. He stared up at the ceiling, the words of his nakama from before his departure ringing through his head in the wake of Straw Hat’s declaration:

“I know you spooked when I lost my arm. But it’s not your fault.”

“You’re not this person you’ve let yourself become. They might think of you as Corazon, but to us, you’re Captain.”

Two years of pushing his crew away to protect them, of doing nothing to earn their trust or affection, yet they refused to give up on him. Like Straw Hat, they looked at him and saw something worthwhile. But how could Law accept that from them after what he’d cost them?

Despite what Violet said, Law knew he was, inside and out, Doflamingo’s creature. He knew what he saw when he looked in the mirror, the marks of claiming left on his skin and the emptiness in his eyes. After what he’d lost, Law was too tired to fight it any longer.

So why did people keep looking at him like he was anything but Doflamingo’s broken doll?

Law was startled from his reverie by a loud thud from the deck of the ship. He straightened as he heard the tone of the Straw Hats’ voices change in response to whatever had happened. Punk Hazard was unfriendly territory for them and full of more hazards than they could have known about when they anchored on the island. And most things unfriendly to the Straw Hats should be friendly to Law as Joker’s second.

Law rose and made his way to the door in an attempt to hear more clearly. He was wondering at the odds of using this distraction to search for the key to his cuffs when a familiar voice responded to the Straw Hats’ demands of who he was. Law’s stomach dropped.

“—ase commander of G-5,” Vergo was saying as Law pulled open the infirmary door.

The Straw Hats looked back at him, surprised, but Law ignored them, his eyes focused on Vergo. Vergo inclined his head when Law appeared, which was not a good sign.

“Torao, you should—”

“What are you doing here, Vergo?” Law demanded over Straw Hat.

“You two know each other?” Long Nose asked, glancing between them nervously.

“Your ally?” Black Leg asked, stance turning defensive. “But he’s a Marine.”

There was no way Vergo was here to help Law. But why had he come? Doffy hadn’t wanted him to blow his cover; that the entire reason for sending Law to Punk Hazard in the first place.

“It seems Joker was right to send me to check on your allegiance, Corazon,” Vergo said, lips twisting mockingly around the title he’d once worn himself. “I’ve been warning him for years that you were disloyal, and now I find you defecting.”

Law’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his shackled wrists. “Does this look like defecting, Vergo?” he hissed. Not that it would make a difference; Law was certain Vergo didn’t actually think he had defected. “I’m a prisoner.”

Vergo smirked. “No matter. All Joker needs to know is that I found his favorite plaything standing with the very crew whose captain he betrayed Joker to save two years ago.” His expression darkened. “And don’t forget the -san, boy.”

Law flinched at being called a plaything.

“What’s going on?” Straw Hat asked, frowning between the two. Law ignored him.

“What do you think Joker will do to your crew when he hears you betrayed him again?” Vergo went on.

Law felt the color drain from his face. “You son of a bitch.”

Straw Hat turned to look directly at Law, his expression turning concerned when he saw that Law had gone pale. “Torao—”

Turning his back on Vergo was a mistake. Law’s eyes widened as Vergo drew his bamboo stick, and, as he surged forward, coated it with haki. He swung at Straw Hat’s exposed back. Straw Hat sensed him coming, but Vergo’s speed took him off-guard; Vergo swung his bamboo, and Straw Hat tried to dodge but took enough of a blow to his side that it knocked him off-balance. He yelped in surprise as Vergo swung again, sending him over the ship’s railing into the water below.

Law inhaled sharply as Long Nose and Black Leg both cursed. Long Nose turned to Black Leg.

“Stay with Robin,” he said before taking a running leap and jumping overboard after his sinking captain.

Without missing a beat, Black Leg and Nico Robin took defensive postures in front of Law. Law looked at their backs in disbelief. Why? Why would they help him?

“I have no quarrel with you,” Vergo said to them. “Step aside. This is Family business.”

Black Leg snorted in disbelief, and Nico Robin smiled in that knowing way of hers. “Donquixote Doflamingo wouldn’t want it known he has a spy so high up in the Marines. You won’t let us go.”

Vergo straightened his glasses. “You caught me. But if you step aside, I’ll make your deaths quick.”

“I don’t think so,” Black Leg replied.

Vergo frowned, clearly as confused as Law himself. “Why would you protect him? He tried to kill you.”

So Vergo saw the fight. He must have followed Law from Dressrosa, leaving right behind him. That bastard was just looking for an excuse to cut Law down and finish what he’d started on Minion Island. Had Doffy told him to come, or was Vergo acting on his own?

“Our idiot captain seems to like him,” Black Leg replied with a shrug.

Law started as Nico Robin gave him a small smile before turning back to Vergo. “And Luffy is a very good judge of character. Even if we don’t understand his reasons at first.”

Law’s breath caught in his throat.

Vergo hefted his bamboo. “So be it.”

He charged once more, swinging his bamboo at Nico Robin. Black Leg intercepted the blow with his leg. Vergo fell back and Black Leg charged in a flurry of kicks. Vergo met him blow for blow until the two stopped in the middle of the deck, legs locked. Law winced at the sound of cracking bone. Black Leg slumped, and Law momentarily regretted hitting him with Counter Shock earlier.

“Sanji-kun!” Nico Robin called, worried.

“Where’s the key to these cuffs?” Law demanded urgently as Vergo turned back toward them. He did not want to be defenseless again with Vergo bearing down on him. And he was not going to let Vergo kill Nico Robin for protecting him. Too many people had been hurt or killed protecting Law, and he didn’t deserve any of it.

“Usopp has it,” she said, glancing toward the railing.

“Great,” Law muttered.

As Vergo approached, Nico Robin summoned giant hands, creating a wall between them and Vergo. Law knew it wouldn’t hold against Vergo’s Demon Bamboo. She winced as Vergo slammed against it, the structure shaking under his strength.

“Take Black Leg-ya and get out of here,” Law told her. Hopefully, Long Nose had rescued Straw Hat by now, and they could recover on shore. Vergo would let her go, at least temporarily; he was here because of Law, after all.

She looked at him, startled. “And leave you? You’re powerless.”

“You have no reason to protect me, Nico-ya. I tried to kill your friends. I wouldn’t have stopped, either.” She winced again as the wall trembled against Vergo’s onslaught. “We may both work for Doflamingo, but Vergo wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if given the chance. And now he has the chance.” He shook his head. “Get out of here and regroup with your crew. This is Family business.”

Nico Robin opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by bamboo tearing through her wall. She cried out as the wall collapsed. Vergo met Law’s eye and smirked. Law gasped in pain and surprise as, in a flash, bamboo met his side and sent him flying into the ship’s railing. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and blinked against his spinning vision in time to see Vergo grab Nico Robin by the neck.

“Demon Child Nico Robin,” he said. “I should kill you, but I have a feeling Joker could make good use of you.”

“No thanks,” she choked out between gasps. “I have a crew.”

Vergo simply laughed—a sound that made Law’s skin crawl—and flung her across the deck. She slammed into Black Leg, who was struggling to balance with a fractured leg, and the pair were knocked into the far wall.

Law pushed himself to his feet. Vergo turned to look at him, the malice radiating from him palpable on the winter air. If Law had access to his powers, he would have no problem taking Vergo on. But with the Seastone shackles blocking him from his Fruit and draining his strength, he was as helpless in the face of Vergo’s rage now as he had been as a sick child—and they both knew it.

Vergo moved and suddenly Law’s back slammed into the wall, a haki-clad hand around his throat. Law’s feet dangled off the ground as he struggled to breathe. He grasped at Vergo’s wrist, struggling vainly to loosen the grip stealing his air.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Law.”

“Beating a terminally-ill child nearly to death wasn’t enough for you?” Law wheezed. It somehow seemed fitting that Vergo would finish the job he’d started on a winter island on the winter side of Punk Hazard. There was a feeling of things coming full circle as the snow fell around them.

“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” Vergo growled. “You’ve never been good enough for Doffy. Yet he brings you back and elevates you to his right hand.”

As darkness encroached on the edges of Law’s vision, it hit him that Vergo wasn’t simply holding a grudge about Cora-san’s betrayal. Since Law’s return to the Family nearly a decade earlier, Doffy had kept Law close, giving him no opportunities for betrayal. Holding Law’s crew hostage, he’d groomed Law—teaching him, training him, even fucking him. He did everything to make sure his ownership of Law was complete. Law had hated every moment of it—the only freedom he’d found was leaving Dressrosa on the Polar Tang with his crew on missions—but Vergo was jealous.

Law croaked out a disbelieving laugh at the realization.

Vergo frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type, Vergo.”

Vergo snarled wordlessly and tightened his grip. Law gasped, feeling what little strength he had leaving him. His lungs screamed, he was light-headed, and his eyes started to close.

Would it really be so bad if Vergo killed him now? It would end nearly a decade of hell, the daily physical and emotional torture that had beaten him down to the point of pushing his nakama away…

Law’s eyes flew open at the thought of his nakama. He couldn’t die and leave them alone to face Doffy’s retribution. He couldn’t die without them knowing how much they meant to him, that even if he’d been a poor excuse for a captain, there was no greater honor than leading them.

A sudden fire burning in his chest, Law’s gaze sharpened, and he dropped his hands from Vergo’s wrist. Vergo looked at him in confusion—clearly, he’d thought Law had been about to succumb—and Law took his moment of distraction to loop the Seastone shackles over Vergo’s neck and cross his arms to tighten them with his waning strength. Vergo didn’t have a Devil Fruit so the Seastone wouldn’t affect him, but he would feel the bite of metal into his skin.

In his current position, Law didn’t have enough strength to truly strangle Vergo, but the move was enough to startle Vergo and cause pain. Reflexively, he loosened his grip, and Law gulped in the delicious, frigid air. Letting go of Law’s neck, Vergo grabbed Law’s arms.

“Let go,” he growled.

“You can’t kill me, Vergo,” Law rasped.

Vergo regarded him through those sunglasses. “Why not?” He only had to strain a bit to speak against Law’s attempted strangulation.

“Doffy has plans for my death, and we both know it.”

The surprise was evident on Vergo’s features. “How did you know—”

Law scoffed. “You don’t think I know why they call the Ope Ope no Mi the ultimate Devil Fruit? Kill me now and Doffy will have to look for the Fruit all over again if he wants that operation.”

Law never intended to go through with the operation, but it was leverage Vergo couldn’t ignore.

“Doffy always says you’re too clever for your own good,” Vergo said, lips curling in distaste. But Law knew he had the other man; Vergo was completely devoted to Doffy, and he wouldn’t do anything to risk his master’s chance of receiving immortality.

In one sudden motion, Vergo let go of Law’s arms and grabbed the chain wrapped around his neck. He pulled it free and held the chain above his head, leaving Law dangling in midair by the wrists. Law hissed in surprise.

“Now what, Vergo-san?” Law asked, sneering the oft-demanded honorific.

“I take you back to Dressrosa, a fallen traitor,” Vergo taunted. “Doffy will finally see you for what you are—nothing better than his miserable excuse for a brother. You can watch Doffy slowly destroy your crew one by one. Maybe he’ll even make you kill some of them.” He sounded amused at the prospect. “And then he’ll make you beg to perform the Perennial Youth operation—and only then will you die, doing one useful thing in your miserable life.”

Chest clenching, Law thought of his crew. Of kind Bepo. Of goofy Shachi. Of brave Penguin. Penguin’s words came back then, sharp and pointed.

“You want to pull that, maybe you should start acting like a captain again.”

No. I won’t let that happen. He was done failing them as their captain.

His eyes flew open as Vergo’s haki-coated fist connected with his stomach. The breath left his lungs—again—and he would have curled in on himself if he wasn’t hanging in midair. Vergo let go of the chain and Law dropped to the grass of the Thousand Sunny’s deck. He looked up in time to see Vergo’s bamboo coming right for his head.

“Torao!” he heard in the distance.

Then nothing.

Next chapter

#I had an off day so have an early chapter #I really like how this chapter turned out #Caitlin's fic #Trafalgar Law #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece

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devondraws · 4 years

Text

Megastar shippers are mad again :o!! big shocker

TW ed // abu$e // Megastar clearly // a$sault // $elf H@rm

So it’s been made clear to me I was ‘exposed’ on Twitter for hating Megastar here's the main thing. none of yall expose me, I'm open about hating this toxic abusive ship, I don’t hide it and I never once have. You don’t need to censor my name in fact, I prefer you don't. I never said or would ever to say to a victim, I have no regard or sympathy for what they went through especially not as one myself through multiple abusers. What I DONT have sympathy for is disregarding other victims for your arguably coping strategy. I would take away anyone's abuse if I could, but when you choose to ‘cope’ by promoting, fet!shizing, and romanticizing the awful terrible experience that is abuse, I will tell you to your face the damage you do to others.

I’ll start with the big argument, it’s a coping mechanism, but coping doesn’t mean good and it is VERY dangerous to think so. One of the many I coped with the abuse from my longest abuser was starving myself and not taking my medication. It made me feel strong, and feel like I was in total control, but that did not make it good. Especially being chronically ill, I was quite literally abusing MYSELF. When it comes to a much less physical way, I coped by making fun of others when I was around 13-15 especially ‘SJWs’ I made fun of kids that are autistic (knowing I was myself but not wanting to admit to that mentally) I made fun of people really who just weren’t like me, furries, band kids, scene kids. It was a lot of self-hatred and it did in a way heal me and do what I wanted it to do a coping strategy but it wasn’t okay, it wasn’t good, and importantly it was intensely unhealthy and worsed what I went through in the long run. Heres where Megastar shippers may be shocked I did megastar. Not long, but I did, around the age of 11-12. I idolized it, and I listened to the fandom really, I said it made me feel good and it made me happy hell I even said I wanted a ‘Megatron’ in my life. Boy did I get one. and because of the ship at that. I met a much older girl and we would DM on Insta, she sent things I shouldn’t have seen and audios I shouldn’t have heard. She said outright I was her ‘Starscream’ and that Megatron did ‘he had to’ to keep Starscream as his own and that he did what he did out of pure love and I ate it up. If being abused love I wanted to be abused, I just wanted to belong. But looking back the fandom's idea and admiration for megastar was very bad on my 11-year-old mind. KEEP IN MIND the show is not for adult audiences, I was a targeted consumer and I listened and learned from the adults, from the fandom, as any child does. So when I saw both the fet!ishzation of MLM and of abuse. I learned that to be normal. And from that, I learned that to be how I should COPE when I’m sad, I should be just like them because everyone says they are happy. I'm not the only, though other people's stories aren't my to tell, I can say they mention a$sault, physical abuse, mental, etc. I shouldn’t have to explain to mostly 15-25-year-olds, why that's not true and why just because you cope with something doesn’t make it healthy.

A second big ‘argument’ I see is, ‘fiction doesn’t affect reality’ ‘it’s fictional’ ‘its a cartoon’. I don’t understand this ‘debate’ because we have seen SO. MANY. TIMES. OF. FICTION. AFFECTING. (guess what) R E A L I T Y. Take, for example, finding Nemo and both the mass flushing of pet fish and also the mass abuse of Clownfish because every child wanted a ‘Nemo’. We see this again when we look into dinosaurs actually! In mainstream media the idea of dinosaurs being scaly, reptile-like, etc. that's not true and we’ve known it's not true! Dinos are ‘speculated’ to be feathered and colorful hence why they came to be BIRDS. But that idea, because we saw in movies, stuck. And most people who don’t research (and that's most people) only saw the fictional version, that version is what stands out in their minds, to them that is a dinosaur. After 101 Dalmatians so many, I mean SO MANY, kids wanted a Dalmatian. They are amazing dogs but the thing is they need a little more training, well parents didn’t want a real dog they wanted a movie dog, a cartoon dog, and so they got puppies. When those puppies grew and became ornery and no effort was put in place to train them, they were given away in mass. We KNOW fiction affects reality, we know human brains can’t process some fictional characters (especially in anime) as cartoons. We cry over fiction, we laugh over it, we learn from it, we put morals in it for kids, I don’t get why some people still argue it doesn’t happen and I’m not going to argue with ignorance.

Essentially here's the points. You CAN cope with Megastar, but you shouldn’t, it provides no actual help it can actually soften you to abusers, it warps the idea of abuse, it romanticizes it, (a big part of it is YOAI which is fet!shizaton of MLM) and it NORMALIZES it by being commonly consumed and a large part of the Transformers, and TFP’s specifically, fandom. Fiction DOES affect reality what you do online, say online, show online, especially to minors, is heavily altering to a mindset and to people in correlation with what's being shown. You can hate me all you want, censor my name all you want, but no one is arguing besides ‘I like it and I said so’ you can say so, I can’t silence you and I wouldn’t, but when you neglect and turn down what is blatant problems and obvious issues in front of you? That is no problem of mine :)

You ship abuse and if you are gonna keep doing it, at least own up <3

(also you guys can ship abuse without it affecting reality but I can’t make a joke hrm hmm)

edit: for context for the last part I made a joke about STARSCREAM killing megastar shippers. I said killing yes but how is that death wish did yall really think i was like. bout to summon the guy I’m confused by you guys make it make sense.

Edit 2: in the future i WILL clarify jokes better ill put that slash thing i think its /j. To me and my friends it was and still is obvious but i understand the concern. Ive gotten multiple ACTUAL threats of being doxed, assulted, etc. so clarifying wasnt a need in my head and ill be better at doing so next time i totally get how to some people specially those with truama it could have been seen as scary and im sorry i didnt clarfiy as i should!

#Megastar #Transformers #Twitter beef ig #Abuse #Trigger warning #Yes i'm taking it megastar and no I wont it #even just the ship name can really hurt victims and i care more for them then your bad ship

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

————

“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. “Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I’ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…

#Springtime Edition 2020 #alliswell21 #567inpanem #prompt 23 #submission

103 notes · View notes

lavenderek · 3 years

Note

So you're saying you don't think "underage" fic is gross. Is that what youre saying?

well, no. yuck. what i’m saying is, what exactly and specifically do we want to happen?

there should not be explicit fic about underage characters, got it. so what age can they not be under? 18? 16? what country’s laws regarding the age of consent do we prioritize? like, i think it’s gross that the age of consent is 16 in some places, but i’m an american, so i would, wouldn’t i? so ok, what if we hedged it a bit and put the age as like, 14? that way it’s not little kids, it’s all teenagers. but no, gross, 14-year-olds are children. fun fact: so are 16-year-olds. they are also children.

what about fic about two teenagers having a consensual encounter? should all romantic or sexual fic have to be about adults only? your answer to this may very well be “yes,” and that’s completely valid. a teenager writing fic might disagree. somebody who’s a big fan of a show that’s about a bunch of teenagers might disagree. should there be an adults-only section on the site? there’s already a “stop, you have to be 18″ box to check before you can access explicit fic, so how do we verify a user’s age? they can just lie about their age and click through anyway. you have to be 18 to make a youtube account and i’ve had one since i was 13. i remember very deliberately choosing a new birth year when it asked for my birthdate.

then you get to slightly greyer areas like large age gaps, or heavy role play between consenting adults. i have absolutely witnessed fic that’s clearly written to be CP, but it’s tagged as age play. so like, for all intents and purposes this is CP, but if you roll in like “hey, this is fucked up,” they can be like, “oh, so you read this picturing actual children, sicko?? you have a problem with two adults doing shit in the bedroom??? how dare you!!! don’t like don’t read!!!”

it’s kind of like on porn sites, how they make like nasty inc*st stuff but call it “stepmom” or whatever, like oh, they’re not actually related! sure, joseph, thanks for covering all your bases

so we can’t ban kinks. or can we? should we limit depictions of serious addictions or domestic abuse too? torture, or even body horror? these are generally accepted to be dark content.

i’m not trying to engage in whataboutism, i’m naming actual, relevant questions about shit that’s disturbing in real life (no offense to kink people who follow codes of consent and conduct) and can be incredibly upsetting to encounter online. shit that i can’t imagine wanting to read, let alone write.

these are the questions that we, you, i, people pro-a*3 and people anti-a*3, are all asking, and not a single one of us can or should answer them unilaterally.

so it’s like, oh, okay, so there should be no oversight at all? should there be no rules? no, obviously, that would be horrible, i don’t trust any of these fuckers to conduct themselves civilly. so there should be some rules, but not too many rules. that’s what we have now, and clearly the way things are now isn’t working because a lot of users are reasonably very upset.

should there be a voting system, and rules are set by a popular vote? should certain words be flagged and you can’t post the fic with that word in it? should there be a thing where when you post a fic, you have to select the ages of each character and that’s listed at the top of the fic? what if they age during the fic? should there be a flagging function, where you report someone for not using sufficient tags? users will find workarounds for all of this. you know they will. so mods will have to be very specific about the rules and introduce, like, a vetting system for it. which is a lot more manpower and a lot more chances for subjective judgments.

all of the above is why it operates on a tagging system instead. i’m gonna be real, i only go on a*3 to read comments on my own shit lmao, and even when i did go on there more often i never went in the tags searching for fic. so is there a blacklist function? is there a flagging function?

if there is a flagging function, maybe they make it so that if the flagged user has violated the rules, their account is suspended and their fic made private for the duration and until they add necessary tags.

cool, a compromise. but uh-oh, it turns out Mod A agrees that this fic is n*ncon, but Mod B thinks it’s just vague, not n*nconsensual, and doesn’t feel comfortable banning the fic. or it turns out User didn’t post anything flaggable, they were reported by somebody who is targeting them for some reason, or by someone who is more stringent about n*ncon than somebody else would be, like, it’s gotta be enthusiastic and verbal consent or else it’s skirting the edges too much.

it’s like, we’ve already witnessed censorship (please take this word usage gently, i know it’s touchy but it’s the word to use here) being a problem here on tumblr with their stupid nipple ban. there’s a double standard regarding whose nipples are explicit and whose are kosher for public consumption. people have to appeal their shit getting flagged and sometimes nothing gets fixed regardless. i’m sure other people are pleased that there’s less of a chance of them accidentally scrolling past a picture of a hard dick at work.

so you get it, this is a problem that’s more complicated than “all of x should be banned and if you post it there’s something wrong with you,” a belief you’re more than entitled to hold but can’t base, like, fanfic legislation off of. you get it you get it.

you get it, but like, what is the fucking deal with those “fandom moms” who go off on soliloquies about the days of old or whatever the fuck whenever this topic comes up? what about the weirdos who are like, “what’s next, banning gay fic????” yeah, if we allow gay marriage you can marry a tree, that’s how it works, thanks tiffany.

but no, the reason they do this is NOT that they think lgbtq content is comparable in any way to CP. the reason they do this is that this exact problem has taken place on every site that has ever hosted fic. and many previous sites did think lgbtq content was comparable to CP. it was categorized as adult content and hidden.

that’s why a*3 exists in the first place. it was to avoid godmodding and absolutism. it’s supposed to be more or less self-governed. i don’t want there to be CP on a*3 any more than you do, but i also don’t trust randos to decide what is and isn’t acceptable content. this topic is not new.

i’m in support of stronger government regulation in real life because it can be argued that certain actions and systems violate human rights. everybody deserves food and shelter, for example. the same can’t be argued in this case because some creep writing CP doesn’t violate my rights. i find it offensive and i don’t think they should be writing it, but my right to click the back button is intact. there is no institution making it impossible or even difficult for me to not read fanfiction. the creep could just as reasonably argue that their right to post what they want is being affected.

why is this response so long? is it because i can’t shut up? yes, but also because this is a complex issue and that’s why nobody has taken significant action on it.

people are also big mad.

i’ve never understood this impulse to see somebody not doing a thing you want them to do and assume it’s out of malice or incompetence, anyway. i don’t know anybody who volunteers for a*3 but it’s my assumption that given the choice to have us all pissed at them, or have us all not pissed at them, they would choose to have us not be pissed at them. it just seems like the reasonable reaction to have. and like, i’d be pretty shocked to part the kimono and find out they’re all CP-loving gargoyles and a*3 actually stands for A lot Of child abus3. that is the reason i have not been like, “fuck a*3.” because what are they supposed to do, you know?

there’s no simple or inarguably morally right solution here. the princess is in another castle. just post fic on tumblr, i guess? make another hosting site that’s exactly like a*3 but romantic characters can only be like, 21?

i actually think the legal age in the US should be raised to 21, not joking. your brain literally and biologically isn’t finished developing at 18. teenagers lack the world experience to make decisions that adults make.

somewhere there is an 18-year-old or a person who moved out and became self sufficient at 18 who hates this sentiment. there’s a teenager in an abusive home who would be intensely demoralized by the prospect of having to remain beholden to these people for three more years.

and there’s a parent who is relieved to know that their kid can’t be preyed on by army recruiters for three more years. there’s a person who got into a car crash with a teenager who misjudged whether or not they could make a turn who’s like, yeah, she could probably have benefited from a few more years.

nothing is as simple as it should be. i agree with you, but i’m not willing to pass blanket judgments with regards to actions that should be taken. and honestly, given how little i actually go on the site, i don’t even have a dog in this fight. so all my opinions on it are moot anyway.

(side note, if you are in an abusive home and you can’t make your own bank account, or if your bank account is monitored by your abusive parents, maybe try venmo? you can get a debit card that pulls directly from your venmo balance. a surprising number of places accept venmo payments, and this way you can save up money in secret.)

anyway uhhhhh seeya

#who is this even #haters #long post #please DO NOT REBLOG

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gordonwilliamsweb · 3 years

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Little-Known Illnesses Turning Up in Covid Long-Haulers

The day Dr. Elizabeth Dawson was diagnosed with covid-19 in October, she awoke feeling as if she had a bad hangover. Four months later she tested negative for the virus, but her symptoms have only worsened.

This story also ran on Time. It can be republished for free.

Dawson is among what one doctor called “waves and waves” of “long-haul” covid patients who remain sick long after retesting negative for the virus. A significant percentage are suffering from syndromes that few doctors understand or treat. In fact, a yearlong wait to see a specialist for these syndromes was common even before the ranks of patients were swelled by post-covid newcomers. For some, the consequences are life altering.

Before fall, Dawson, 44, a dermatologist from Portland, Oregon, routinely saw 25 to 30 patients a day, cared for her 3-year-old daughter and ran long distances.

Today, her heart races when she tries to stand. She has severe headaches, constant nausea and brain fog so extreme that, she said, it “feels like I have dementia.” Her fatigue is severe: “It’s as if all the energy has been sucked from my soul and my bones.” She can’t stand for more than 10 minutes without feeling dizzy.

Through her own research, Dawson recognized she had typical symptoms of postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS. It is a disorder of the autonomic nervous system, which controls involuntary functions such as heart rate, blood pressure and vein contractions that assist blood flow. It is a serious condition — not merely feeling lightheaded on rising suddenly, which affects many patients who have been confined to bed a long time with illnesses like covid as their nervous system readjusts to greater activity. POTS sometimes overlaps with autoimmune problems, which involve the immune system attacking healthy cells. Before covid, an estimated 3 million Americans had POTS.

Many POTS patients report it took them years to even find a diagnosis. With her own suspected diagnosis in hand, Dawson soon discovered there were no specialists in autonomic disorders in Portland — in fact, there are only 75 board-certified autonomic disorder doctors in the U.S.

Other doctors, however, have studied and treat POTS and similar syndromes. The nonprofit organization Dysautonomia International provides a list of a handful of clinics and about 150 U.S. doctors who have been recommended by patients and agreed to be on the list.

In January, Dawson called a neurologist at a Portland medical center where her father had worked and was given an appointment for September. She then called Stanford University Medical Center’s autonomic clinic in California, and again was offered an appointment nine months later.

Using contacts in the medical community, Dawson wrangled an appointment with the Portland neurologist within a week and was diagnosed with POTS and chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). The two syndromes have overlapping symptoms, often including severe fatigue.

Dr. Peter Rowe of Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, a prominent researcher who has treated POTS and CFS patients for 25 years, said every doctor with expertise in POTS is seeing long-haul covid patients with POTS, and every long-covid patient he has seen with CFS also had POTS. He expects the lack of medical treatment to worsen.

“Decades of neglect of POTS and CFS have set us up to fail miserably,” said Rowe, one of the authors of a recent paper on CFS triggered by covid.

The prevalence of POTS was documented in an international survey of 3,762 long-covid patients, leading researchers to conclude that all covid patients who have rapid heartbeat, dizziness, brain fog or fatigue “should be screened for POTS.”

A “significant infusion of health care resources and a significant additional research investment” will be needed to address the growing caseload, the American Autonomic Society said in a recent statement.

Lauren Stiles, who founded Dysautonomia International in 2012 after being diagnosed with POTS, said patients who have suffered for decades worry about “the growth of people who need testing and treating but the lack of growth in doctors skilled in autonomic nervous system disorders.”

On the other hand, she hopes increasing awareness among physicians will at least get patients with dysautonomia diagnosed quickly, rather than years later.

Congress has allocated $1.5 billion to the National Institutes of Health over the next four years to study post-covid conditions. Requests for proposals have already been issued.

“There is hope that this miserable experience with covid will be valuable,” said Dr. David Goldstein, head of NIH’s Autonomic Medicine Section.

A unique opportunity for advances in treatment, he said, exists because researchers can study a large sample of people who got the same virus at roughly the same time, yet some recovered and some did not.

Long-term symptoms are common. A University of Washington study published in February in the Journal of the American Medical Association’s Network Open found that 27% of covid survivors ages 18-39 had persistent symptoms three to nine months after testing negative for covid. The percentage was slightly higher for middle-aged patients, and 43% for patients 65 and over.

The most common complaint: persistent fatigue. A Mayo Clinic study published last month found that 80% of long-haulers complained of fatigue and nearly half of “brain fog.” Less common symptoms are inflamed heart muscles, lung function abnormalities and acute kidney problems.

Larger studies remain to be conducted. However, “even if only a tiny percentage of the millions who contracted covid suffer long-term consequences,” said Rowe, “we’re talking a huge influx of patients, and we don’t have the clinical capacity to take care of them.”

Symptoms of autonomic dysfunction are showing up in patients who had mild, moderate or severe covid symptoms.

Yet even today, some physicians discount conditions like POTS and CFS, both much more common in women than men. With no biomarkers, these syndromes are sometimes considered psychological.

The experience of POTS patient Jaclyn Cinnamon, 31, is typical. She became ill in college 13 years ago. The Illinois resident, now on the patient advisory board of Dysautonomia International, saw dozens of doctors seeking an explanation for her racing heart, severe fatigue, frequent vomiting, fever and other symptoms. For years, without results, she saw specialists in infectious disease, cardiology, allergies, rheumatoid arthritis, endocrinology and alternative medicine — and a psychiatrist, “because some doctors clearly thought I was simply a hysterical woman.”

It took three years for her to be diagnosed with POTS. The test is simple: Patients lie down for five minutes and have their blood pressure and heart rate taken. They then either stand or are tilted to 70-80 degrees and their vital signs are retaken. The heart rate of those with POTS will increase by at least 30 beats per minute, and often as much as 120 beats per minute within 10 minutes. POTS and CFS symptoms range from mild to debilitating.

The doctor who diagnosed Cinnamon told her he didn’t have the expertise to treat POTS. Nine years after the onset of the illness, she finally received treatment that alleviated her symptoms. Although there are no federally approved drugs for POTS or CFS, experienced physicians use a variety of medicines including fludrocortisone, commonly prescribed for Addison’s disease, that can improve symptoms. Some patients are also helped by specialized physical therapy that first involves a therapist assisting with exercises while the patient is lying down, then later the use of machines that don’t require standing, such as rowing machines and recumbent exercise bicycles. Some recover over time; some do not.

Dawson said she can’t imagine the “darkness” experienced by patients who lack her access to a network of health care professionals. A retired endocrinologist urged her to have her adrenal function checked. Dawson discovered that her glands were barely producing cortisol, a hormone critical to vital body functions.

Medical progress, she added, is everyone’s best hope.

Stiles, whose organization funds research and provides physician and patient resources, is optimistic.

“Never in history has every major medical center in the world been studying the same disease at the same time with such urgency and collaboration,” she said. “I’m hoping we’ll understand covid and post-covid syndrome in record time.”

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

Little-Known Illnesses Turning Up in Covid Long-Haulers published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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dazes-on-dazes · 4 years

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12.3.2020 - Thoughts on Time

I've mentioned my ADHD diagnosis in my introduction, I was diagnosed around 13-14 years old, the end of middle school for me. According to my mom, she had had her suspicions about my brain state for most of my life, especially in early schooling years. Naturally, being an Active Duty Military family, we moved when and where they told us, and I would have to go to a new school every time. She would bring me in and I, a maladapted five year old, would do fine initially. Soon enough, symptoms would start showing, I would get so nervous I would hide under a desk or I would stand up during a lesson and just wander around the room. So when we moved back to the states, she had me evaluated as soon as she could.

My ADHD severely affects my view of the world, quite obviously. It's the only worldview I've ever experienced. There are some things that don't make much sense to me, certain concepts put under scrutiny are simply bizzare and no amount of reasoning has ever made me understand them, like golf or organized religion.

Other concepts just take a bit of twisting and rewording to get me to understand, one such concept is Time.

Time is a strange idea, completely intangible and all-encompassing. I'll cut to the chase, I understand Time as the bigger picture, everything that has been and everything that ever will be, Great! Thats good, but not how I, as a person who presumably exists, actually experiences time, clearly, because I am only one person with a very limited perspective. That limited perspective is different to neurotypicals due to my brain state.

Now, Time as I see and experience it.

We start with Now. Everything that can exist is in Now, including you and me. Nothing exists out of Now. As soon as it stops being Now, it becomes the Past. The Past does not exist, as it stopped existing as soon as it stopped being Now. The Future doesnt exist either, and it never will, because when the Future does start existing, it's no longer the Future, it's Now. We still know about the Past because things that at one point described Now managed to survive and stay in Now, allowing us to know what Now was like before it stopped existing. The Future is unknowable, no one can accurately predict the Future. It’s only when the Future is no longer the Future and comes into existence as Now that it becomes known as a whole.

Time is a cloudy thing, and due to the way my mind works, it’s even cloudier. I have trouble seeing anything but Now. While yes, it does make me sometimes very present and in the moment, it severely affects my ability to plan and get things done.

It’s called time blindness. I can’t sense time passing, and measuring time is a struggle too. Without a concrete sense of time, all I can really do is drift through and hope.

I’m not sure how one would go about working on lessening time blindness, how would you gain a sense you never had? It sounds like the idea of illiteracy to a literate person. I can’t imagine not being able to read, just as I can’t imagine being able to track the passing of time effectively.

I think I’ll contemplate it for a little while longer.

- Morrigan

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princesssarisa · 4 years

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I just reread Wuthering Heights for the first time since high school. Thanks to @theheightsthatwuthered, @wuthering-valleys, @astrangechoiceoffavourites and others for inspiring me to do it!

Here are some of the things that stood out the most for me.

1. I can’t believe how ambiguous all the characters are! “Morally gray” doesn’t begin to describe it. Even the most sympathetic characters are deeply, deeply flawed, yet just when a character seems unredeemable, they’ll show their capacity for love and altruism. It’s hard to say how Brontë meant us to feel about any of them. I won’t even touch on Heathcliff or the other leads: the example I’ll use is the short-lived yet important figure of Mr. Earnshaw. On the one hand, he’s framed both by Nelly Dean’s narration and by Cathy I’s diary as a kind, benevolent man. He takes in the homeless, orphaned young Heathcliff, raises and loves him as his own, treats his servants almost like family, is reasonably warm and indulgent to his children before his illness worsens his temper, and is very much loved by little Cathy in particular. After he dies and Hindley becomes the tyrannical new master, Cathy and Nelly remember his lifetime as a paradise lost. But he blatantly favors Heathcliff over his own children, sewing the seeds for Hindley’s abuse and degradation of Heathcliff, and during his illness, the disparaging way he talks to and about Hindley and Cathy definitely feels like emotional abuse, at least by modern standards. His harsh words to Cathy are especially heartbreaking given how clearly she worships him and it makes you wonder if her future arrogance is really a cover for self-doubt. But since Nelly depicts Hindley and Cathy as difficult and bratty from childhood, and both become truly toxic adults, maybe their father’s harshness is meant to be justified or at least understandable, and since Heathcliff was a poor orphan who faced who-knows-what horrors in his first seven years, we might argue that he needed more care and affection. But Heathcliff also becomes a toxic adult and Nelly implies that being the favored child made him spoiled and arrogant. And none of the above even touches on the theory that Heathcliff might be Mr. Earnshaw’s illegitimate son, which would definitely cast the latter in a less favorable light. Any claim of “This is how we’re supposed to feel about this character” can only fall flat, because there’s so much ambiguity.

2. The recent reviews by @astrangechoiceoffavourites of the 1939 and 1970 film versions point out something interesting: that in both of those versions, which only adapt only the first half of the book, Cathy (I) is more of the protagonist than Heathcliff. This insight raises a good question: who really is the protagonist of the book? Of course the traditional answer is Heathcliff. He’s the character we follow from beginning to end, whose actions drive the entire plot. But he’s not the viewpoint character; we mostly see him from Nelly Dean’s perspective, and Heathcliff sometimes disappears for months or years at a time from her narrative. Yet Nelly can’t be called the protagonist because she’s more of an observer than an active participant. I think we can argue that, at least in terms of plot structure, the two Cathys are the book’s real protagonists: Cathy I leads the first half, with Heathcliff as the deuteragonist/love interest, while Cathy II leads the second half, with Heathcliff as the villain. Of course this is debatable, but so is nearly everything else about this book.

3. I never realized until now what a perfect inversion Cathy II’s character arc is of her mother’s arc. There are so many parallels, but they happen in the opposite order. Just look:

** Cathy I is born and raised at Wuthering Heights, but as a young girl she ventures to Thrushcross Grange, meets her future husband and ultimately lives there./Cathy II is born and raised at Thrushcross Grange, but as a young girl she ventures to Wuthering Heights, meets her future husband and ultimately lives there.

** Both are raised by widowed fathers whom they adore, although Mr. Earnshaw is stern and critical to Cathy I while Edgar dotes on Cathy II; eventually both fathers die prematurely, leaving their daughters in a tyrannical new patriarch’s hands (Hindley/Heathcliff).

** Cathy I initially loves the rugged, dark haired Heathcliff, who lives as a servant at Wuthering Heights; she helps to educate him and they wander the moors together. But as she spends more time at Thrushcross Grange, she absorbs its snobbery, treats him with increasing disdain (though she really does still love him), and favors the refined, prissy, blond haired Edgar, whom she eventually marries./Cathy II initially loves (or at least cares for) the refined, prissy, blond haired Linton, whom she eventually marries. Having been raised with Thrushcross Grange’s snobbery, she initially disdains the rugged, dark haired Hareton, who lives as a servant at Wuthering Heights. But as she lives at the Heights after Linton dies, she looses her snobbery and becomes increasingly drawn to Hareton; ultimately they fall in love, she helps to educate him and they wander the moors together.

** Because of the above, Cathy I’s story ends tragically, while Cathy II’s story ends happily.

It really is too bad that most screen and stage adaptations only adapt the first half and leave out Cathy II, because it seems to me that Cathy I’s story was always meant to be juxtaposed with her daughter’s mirror-image arc.

4. If I was ever half-tempted to believe the theory that Branwell Brontë was the book’s real author, I don’t believe it anymore. There’s no way a 19th century man, especially one who was allegedly a bit of a womanizer, could have written such nuanced, realistic, non-objectified female characters. Even male authors whose characterizations of women I respect, both of the past and of today, tend to have problems with sexualization, madonna-whore stereotyping, etc. But the women in Wuthering Heights are thoroughly non-sexualized three-dimensional characters: all of them flawed yet (arguably) all sympathetic, no better yet no worse than the men around them, all fully human.

5. The circumstances of Cathy I’s mental and physical breakdown are different than I remembered from high school. I was under the impression that Heathcliff married Isabella to hurt Cathy the way she had hurt him and that Cathy’s brain fever was caused by jealousy and heartbreak at being “rejected” for another woman. I think the screen adaptations tend to frame it more that way. But really, Heathcliff marries Isabella less to hurt Cathy emotionally than to gain power over her husband by gaining a claim to inherit his property and fortune. Nor is Cathy’s breakdown caused by jealousy (she knows Heathcliff doesn’t really love Isabella, after all), but by the conflict between Heathcliff and Edgar that the Isabella scandal triggers, which culminates in Edgar punching Heathcliff, making him flee for his life, and demanding that Cathy choose between them. It’s the crumbling of Cathy’s attempted double life with both men that breaks her, not rivalry with Isabella.

6. When I first started the reread, my dad suggested that I try to see if I could find more sexual tension between Heathcliff and Cathy I than I did in high school. But I didn’t. Their love is just as strangely, fascinatingly sexless as I thought it was. I suppose the question remains: did Brontë purposefully write it as sexless, or does it just reflect her own lack of sexual experience?

7. If I were to write the screenplay for a new film version of Wuthering Heights, I think I’d present it in anachronic order, similar to Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. Scenes from the first half would alternate with scenes from the second half. This way the second half would really be given its due, the mirror-imagery between Cathy I and Cathy II’s character arcs would be especially apparent, and the Hareton/Cathy II romance could be highlighted as a healthy alternative to Heathcliff/Cathy I. I would also make a definite point to de-romanticize Heathcliff, not only by portraying him as a tragic man-turned-monster and not downplaying his cruelty, but by leaving it ambiguous, as I think it is in the book, whether the love he shares with Cathy I really is romantic love or a strangely intense, codependent brother/sister bond. I definitely wouldn’t age them into young adult lovers on the moors the way most screen versions do; I’d portray them at their correct ages, just 12/13 when they roam the moors together and still just 15/16 when Cathy accepts Edgar’s proposal, and highlight that they were only truly happy together as children. That in some ways their love is always the love of two children, both in its selfishness and in its purity. Cathy’s ghost at the window would be portrayed as a child, as in the book, and if I were to show Heathcliff’s ghost joining her in the end, I just might have them both transform back into their 12/13-year-old selves. That could make for an interesting contrast with Hareton and Cathy II in the end: Heathcliff and Cathy I reunited as free, half-savage children, while their foster-son and daughter appear as a mature romantic couple embracing civilization and adulthood.

#wuthering heights #literature #commentary #rambling

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curse-of-the-dark-emerald · 4 years

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Curse of the Dark Emerald, chapter 1

Author's Notes: Hello everyone this is my first time writing for Sonic and tackling the idea of Sonic in the movie verse as a Werehog because since watching the film I think myself and a lot of others have been egging (no pun intended xD) to have a shot at this. So I hope as my first time it comes off good and not too terrible! Apologies for any story mistakes! Please enjoy and keeping it at around PG-13 rated.

...

Tom Wachowski unlocked the door to his house, his body slumped involuntarily as he entered, it was a long, and dull uneventful day. He was tired from doing the usual patrolling of Green Hill and not much happened, which was pretty typical. Ozzy, his beloved golden retriever didn’t waste time greeting his owner and stood on his back legs lurching his upper body on Tom in the form of a hug.

“Hey, Oz! Good boy!”

Ozzy manages to leave a lick of drool on his face and instantly after receiving the affection, he settles down and sits at Tom’s feet. A neon, blue line zipped behind Ozzy.

“Hey, Donut Lord! You’re back!”

A young, blue hedgehog jumps onto Tom’s chest and and embraces him into a hug, Tom could feel his quills against his head bristling. Sonic’s cheeks were blushing from the joy to see his best friend back home. Electric green eyes meet Tom’s.

“Hey, bud, good to see you.” Tom returns the hug and gently drops Sonic to the floor.

Sonic rests his fists on his sides, “You bring anything cool back? Like some food?” Sonic makes the brightest smile at Tom.

“Sorry, bud. Not this time.” Tom chuckled at Sonic, knowing him he was thinking he’d brought home a take out meal for free.

Sonic groaned, “Aww come on! I haven’t had a chili dog in like, forever!” He folds his arms and huffs at Tom.

“Hi, Tom.”

Maddie appears and made her greeting with a peck on the cheek for Tom. “Don’t worry about him, he’s been good today.”

“Oh I’m not worried about that,” Tom took off his coat and put it on the coat hanger, ''But I’m more worried about Mr. Flash here getting too fat, for sure!” He teases.

Sonic laughs, but pauses; and he furrows his eyes, “Hey!”

“Did you take your nap, earlier, Sonic? Tom gives Sonic a pat on his head before walking past him and going into the kitchen.

“Of course I did!” Sonic rolled his eyes.

“I made some soup and breadsticks, so no hot dogs Sonic.” Maddie winked at Sonic, she knew his bribery at Tom had failed.

“Yeah, yeah ,okay.” Sonic sighed in disappointment, and took a seat at the table.

“Hey Sonic, how’re your muscles feeling?” Maddie finished bringing all the utensils for Tom and Sonic and sat down, grinning at the hedgehog.

“Really sore.” Sonic moans a little and rubs his back, “That workout was a killer yesterday, I don’t think I’ll do it again.”

Both of them laughed to each other, Maddie took her turn to tease him.

Tom smiles to himself warmly, his job may be dull at times but it was a different story here at home, which he didn’t mind. He always felt happier and lighter seeing Sonic as the new member of the household, officially welcomed after he and Maddie made him his own room in the attic. That was only a few weeks ago, and October was just around the corner. Tom and Maddie had already mentioned to Sonic about Halloween, which of course the little hedgehog was excited for, but that would be discussed later on.

Sonic was his usual chipper self, talked about his day but also made sure to let his guardians speak as well. Which he was getting better at. Tom let himself to the daily newspaper while Sonic and Maddie made small talk, turning the thin pages from time to time, reading the daily funny comics, then the weather, then he remembered he forgot to even look at the front page, the title in black, bold letters read

“Trick of the Eyes? Or the new Montana’s “Northern Lights?”

“Woah..”

Tom scans over the slightly blurred picture below the main headline, which was in color thankfully; showing that in the next town over, there were sights of odd, but dazzling green and blue rays reminiscent of the northern lights anyone was familiar with in the Northern continents, but different.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?”

Sonic’s lime-green orbs lit up at Tom, “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

Tom folds the paper for him to see better, “Looks like you might not be the only alien thing around,” he jokes.

But the moment Sonic looked at the picture of the headline, his eyes went sharp and into a trance, he gingerly took the paper, read it over and didn’t say another word. Sonic’ss mouth hung agape a little, but made no sound.

Maddie and Tom glanced at each other, not knowing when or what to say at first, but Tom beats her to it, “Sonic? What’s the matter?”

Sonic blinked his eyes and finally made his gaze at them, “I’m okay! It really is cool, Tom.”

Sonic almost couldn't finish his sentence and was interrupted by a yawn. He shook his head to fight the sudden sleepiness.

“Are you all done with your food?” Maddie began taking dishes to the sink.

“Yep, I’m done.” Sonic gently pushed his plate away and got down, heading for his room.

Tom still kept watch on Sonic’s expression the whole time, he could tell the young hedgehog has something lingering in his mind, behind that smile. But, he thought, I’ll give him his space for now.

“Good night, Sonic!” Maddie gently shouts so she could overpower the sound of clinking dishes and running water.

“Goodnight!” Sonic makes a hasty wave at Tom and dashed to his room, opening the floor boarded door and closing it behind him.

“Ugh, I gotta..go..!”

Sonic fumbles with his words and thoughts, trying to think and properly conjure the crazy idea that he was about to do,

“That story in the paper...it felt so weird...and it's bugging me…”

Sonic tosses all his belongings that were on the floor which were just left scattered around messily, looking for the most important things to him, his brain couldn’t remember where he put them, until he checked the drawers and instantly, his pouch of Rings were there in his stash of socks.

“Cool beans, I gotcha! Now, I should...UGH I gotta go now! No no no, calm down and slow down, I can’t just go there yet…”

Sonic took a sharp breath in, and slowed his brain down to think more clearly, “I have to wait until they’re asleep. So they don’t worry.”

It was finally settled on what he had to do. While he waited for Tom and Maddie to get to bed and sleep, he made his quick preparations on what to take for this short journey to the town outside of Green Hill. Sonic looked out the upper window of his room, a near full moon glistened it’s face downwards with it’s light.

“Backpack, check. Flashlight, check.”

Sonic grabbed his Rings, took one out and held it firmly in his hand, and stashed the rest into his bigger bag. Happy with his things, he took a step towards the door,

A rustle of noises was heard outside, he whipped to see what it was from and thought he also saw a pair of red eyes peering from the same window. The years of old paranoia washed over and Sonic quickly checked outside on the roof, and he found nothing about that could be spying.

“Come on, let’s go already.” Sonic griped at himself to get going, shook his head, and went to his door, the house lights below were off and a dark staircase greeted him.

Sonic quietly tiptoed to Tom and Maddie’s room, and he was happy to find out his timing was good, they were preparing to go to sleep, but they spoke amongst themselves in their room which muffled both voices a little bit.

“He had a weird reaction to that story from the paper, you think he’s okay?”- Maddie

“Not sure, but it might not be that big of a deal.”-Tom

A sigh was let out from one of them, though Sonic couldnt see who it was.

“You’re probably right, but I’m...a little worried.”

Tom took the covers and slipped on the bed, “I’ll admit I am a little too, but for now if Sonic wants to tell us what it is, let’s just wait.”

Sonic’s chest tightened, he felt a little guilty for what he was about to do and rethinks if telling both of them would be best, but he was happy to hear they were so concerned about him.

“Okay, Tom. I don’t want to press him either, but you’re totally right.”

They’ll be fine.

Sonic had heard just enough to put himself at ease, he heard the bedroom become silent not long after, that was the que to make his move.

He promised to himself, “I’ll be back before the sun comes up.”

Sonic went back upstairs to his room, took the golden ring in hand, tossed it and a whirl of energy and wind blows, the ring showcases a sea of green pine trees on the other side,

“Nothing wrong with a little adventure, right?” Sonic rubbed his gloves together, his nervousness had vanished with the thought of what could be on the other side, waiting for him.

He goes in and the ring closes. His room was now vacant. Until an arm pulls down the window pane on the ceiling...

A black clothed person carefully props himself to the floor, wearing red tinted goggles on his head and a black beanie to mask himself.

“Whew, close one.”

After getting his balance, the man moves his goggles up his face, Agent Stone had been following his target for the last few days. He scans the room for anything he could use to further his plans into action, the execution to start could now begin.

“What now..? Oh..?” Stone’s eyes catch onto something interesting,

A single gold ring glowed on the floor, he grinned playfully at the item, studying it.

“He used this to disappear? Hmm..”

He barely moved his fingers and the ring slips from his grasp, clumsily it falls back on the floor, opening a portal.

“Woah, what the-?” Stone stepped back, startled.

From what he could see it was the same place his target took off to, green forests of trees and he saw large footprints from where Sonic was headed.

“No time to waste, then.”

He had his mission to fulfill, and he took the jump inside the ring, and it closed from behind. Stone looked back expecting the bedroom to be there, but it wasn’t. Stone went into focus and followed Sonic’s footsteps.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedghog movie #sonic unleashed #sonic #sonic fanart #sonic the werehog #sonic fanfiction

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