#how people are erasing everything Ed went through
Text
This is going to be a controversial post, but I find it very “interesting” how people are taking Ed’s storyline this season and projecting it onto Izzy. ED was the one who was suicidal. ED was the one who believed he was unlovable and unloved, and that he had to be something he didn’t want to be just to be a little bit accepted. ED was actively trying to die and get people to kill him because he was too scared to do it himself. ED was the one who was working through years of trauma to find a way to be happy with himself and learn that he is capable of being loved for who he is.
And yeah, Izzy has some of that as well. Though genuinely, that could be said for most of the characters. But it’s SO STRANGE how many people I see saying “Oh well I guess the message of the story is that if you’re suicidal then you should die.”
Like, please, learn some media literacy. Ed and his arc are RIGHT THERE. I feel like I’m living in an alternate reality where we all watched a different show. Why are you unable to relate to Ed? I’ve literally seen people say “Oh well I just don’t care about Ed.” Truly, why are you only able to relate to that storyline when it’s through the perspective of a white man?
I’m not trying to be antagonistic, but this is really bothering me.
#ofmd#ofmd spoilers#ofmd finale#ofmd season 2#ofmd 2#renew our flag means death#it’s just really bothering me#how people are erasing everything Ed went through#just so they can make things fit their narrative#you’re allowed to be sad and grieve Izzy#but stop erasing Ed to do it
558 notes
·
View notes
Text
SPOILERS FOR SCTIR FOR +CH 200
CW: (possibly) Eating disorder ED, depression
Something that keeps me awake at night: at the beggining of the story, Yoohyun's death isn't so painful for the viewers, because we only see what is on the surface of the Han brothers' life. It's through memories and flashbacks that we get to learn 3 facts: Yoojin dedicated his entire life to Yoohyun, they parted ways and in the end they reunited, only for one of them die. That's the introduction of SCTIR for us. Moreover, Yoojin is desesperate to leave the past behind, so he doesn't linger on his traumatic memories for too long, hence why the pain of reading SCTIR isn't instant.
It is gradual.
Yoojin and we learn that the past was never erased. It still happened, and exists in the form of Yoohyun's body out in the cold. Gradually, it becomes more apparent how Yoojin is still so affected by his previous life, despite his fear resistance skill. It starts with small things like him avoiding eating unless someone tells him to do so, always occupying himself with tasks that could be handled by someone else, negative thoughts about himself for every single action he takes and so on. I love, with all my heart, the manhwa, but the novel makes it so much more apparent how Yoojin loathes himself, to the point he keeps wishing he wasn't a human being, rather an item for his brother to use. It's so messed up to want to abandon all your humanity, feelings and concept of self just so you can be of help.
SCTIR is fun to read, but even more so with the unreliable narrator that is Yoojin. He sees what he does as nothing impressive, considering the people he is surrounded with, despite running the kisengsu facility, negotiating with the hair loss company to develop a new product, managing Seok Hayan's research team, mantaining diplomatic ties with Japan, training and helping other hunters and, most importantly, caring for all the S classes. He worries for their well-being because it's only natural for him to do so, as the Perfect Caregiver.
And, in the middle of it all, the only thing Yoojin spares for himself is hate. He doesn't want to live long for himself, but rather for Yoohyun, even though Yoojin already has been through the pain of loss. When Yoojin died in chapter 241, the first thing that he thought was Yoohyun. He didn't even think about how much it hurted dying (with a freaking shot on the head)! He just wanted to reunite and soothe Yoohyun that he was okay.
Speaking of which, in Sigma's arc, as Yoojin was alone, he really stopped caring for his well-being, so Sung Hyunjae took that role and did everything he could to help Yoojin. But, for him to even have to create a quest just so Yoojin could eat is what sparked my lizard brain to write this post.
My point is, there isn't an arc dedicated for recovery (at least until the chapter I have read that is like, ~300) and that is beautiful, because Yoojin is still processing what he went through, and we get to see that. Yoojin has such an interesting character arc as he begins wanting to forget the past, as it is too painful, to start running after it. He can't let go of it, because letting it go means letting his little brother go too. Which is why he says he will never be okay again in chapter 278.
#i sound delusional#i like to see him suffer okay!#its good angst#i didnt expect sctir to have so much angst#actually I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED THAT!!!!#im actually rereading s classes#but its like a whole new experience#its so good#SCTIR IS SO GOOD#sctir#the s classes that i raised#s classes that i raised#han yoojin#han yoohyun#spoilers#sung hyunjae
185 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! Can you suggest to read anything (article or books) on comphet? Long story, I slept with men, but I didn't ever felt attraction to them. I spend nearly decade 'fixing' myself, bc my first ever experience was sexual assault and then another and grooming. And then men I tried to date dropped me like hot potato telling everyone I'm frigid, which made me ashamed. They treated me like I am defected, hinting I am mentally ill. For not acting like what women in porn act at damn age of 16 bc from watching porn they insisted they know on women biology! I did not have any sex-ed anywhere so I legit knew nothing on my own biology. I did not know I am not experiencing sexual attraction bc I did not know how it works! Just these men telling me I'm not like other women. Not passionate. Women just so happy insisted I am frigid bc of the assault trauma, but I can train myself with practice. And that it's natural state to date men and my mental health issues would heal etc. Include some threats of godly punishments. I had more horrible exp, and I only now begin to realize that while yes majority of my exp were forced and later brain repeating trauma in hopes to fix it with repeating, it was also traumatic bc I can't feel a shred of attraction to men. I was madly trying to date at least any men with 'oh maybe I will not be revolted with him, or with him, or with him, bc I need to fix myself!!! I can't live being that way!' Like, honestly, mostly anything beyond a chaste kiss on the lips revolted me, but I kept making myself endure it over and over in hopes that I will 'get used to it'. Bc I was told how I react is abnormal. I froze 99% of time and could not tell 'no' or 'stop'. I was terrified when I felt that revolt first time from a kiss with guy, bc I was expecting first kiss as the dream exp, but first one was assault from drunk adult on my 15yo self, and then second was willing, but revolt I felt was extreme!! But all media and culture told me it would be the most magical exp! And everyone around acted that way too! My life was crushed and I had no idea how to live with it. And I did not tell anyone for years, being ashamed of my 'defect', just obsessively fixing it. And when I did told, women my age or older told me it will be ok once I meet the right guy/ I can just get used to it. My health, life, education, everything suffered from the cptsd I developed. I mean, now I have no idea how I was able to do it, bc no pressure can make me repeat any of it. But I was so ashamed of being frigid. And was sure it destines me to die alone. I legit was sure I am abominated defected freak and later started to act that part. It took some horrible rape for me to stop and go 'ok I will be freak, I will die alone, I will not leave the house actually at all, bc I can't take it anymore' and only then I was able to stay safe of assault and abuse. It took me many years of therapy before I stopped being dissociated from my body enough to be aware I have attraction to women instead. And I honestly don't think I am worthy of dating bc I feel stained, unpure, and generally to ashamed with all these experiences. I mostly did that all myself to myself. Honestly my worst fear is people thinking I am bi, bc saying I'm bi would erase that decade of suffering of 'what is wrong with me'
I asked for books or anything, bc it makes me feel a bit less crazy if i read on similar experiences? Some things I still struggle to put together and the level of pain I feel is extreme as you can imagine.
hey anon, i’m sorry you went through all of that. it sounds quite traumatic, some of it overlaps with my experience (not knowing what’s wrong with me, trying to “fix” my lack of attraction, being dissociated and disconnected from my feelings, not feeling the way other women felt about men)
i honestly don’t know any resources that would help you. around a decade ago, i stumbled across the term “comphet” from other lesbians and they were mainly talking about it like.. ignoring your feelings because you think you must be attracted to men, even if there’s no evidence of that in your life. the more recent sources i’ve seen into comphet & more traditional sources are often moreso aligned with political lesbianism so i dont think it’s that helpful to any actual lesbians. i’ll instead reiterate the points that resonated with me back then:
1. having to dissociate to be with a man (can also be a sign of trauma)
2. choosing “crushes” on guys mostly to appeal to your friends or fit in
3. not being able to have sexual fantasies involving men (this does not include flashbacks or intrusive thoughts, but rather actual sexual fantasies)
4. sexual interactions with men feel forced & are unwanted
5. you are unable to envision a future with a man
6. mistaking feelings of anxiety or fear or nervousness for attraction to men (could be trauma-related, i advise to look back to before your trauma & analyse how you felt)
7. you felt the need to use substances to be able to get through sexual interactions with men
8. you have had to convince yourself that you somehow like a guy and practically choose to make yourself like him, whereas it comes naturally with women & is out of your control
9. you pretend to have certain feelings for men to appeal to others rather than genuinely having them
10. building on 9, playing up a romance with a man for public image purposes
11. struggling to relate to other women when they fawn about other guys
12. having beliefs that all other women find women attractive & think men are gross, but it’s just your obligation to be with a man anyways (so it’s not something you want, but something you HAVE to do)
i cant think of others but honestly what i generally recommend is to think through your life, & especially in your case think BEFORE the trauma. it’s tough because the trauma was at a young age, but it can muddy things as there are bisexual & even heterosexual women who become repulsed my men because of trauma. so think of your life before then, did you have feelings for guys? did you have male celeb crushes? or were they only female? don’t think of how you pretended for others, think of how you genuinely felt about it.
the things you said to me do not sound wanted and it sounds like you were afraid to speak up and would freeze in fear (a common trauma response). but again, it’s hard to know whether this trauma response is rooted in having a traumatic experience prior to this or if it is rooted in sexuality. don’t feel rushed to choose a label either, it took me several years before i felt confident enough to call myself a lesbian & it took a lot of introspection into my own life because like you, i was deeply dissociated and disconnected from myself (partially due to trauma & partially bc of pre-existing mental illness). being in such a state for prolonged periods can make it hard to understand your genuine feelings, but it’s possible.
also my recommendation is also to not look through comphet stuff online lol because nowadays people use it to even mean that they are attracted to guys & sometimes want to have sex with them, it’s unhelpful and might further confuse you. i wish i could share the stuff i read in the past about it but it’s all lost at this point 😭 good luck anon, take care of urself & take ur time figuring things out!!
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
some observations about the guardians. some speculation. disorganized rambling thoughts, honestly (this felt more coherent in my brain before i started to type it all out). full series spoilers below the cut
-guardians all have a corestone embedded into their sessapinae. this connects them directly to the earth and also allows them to live for far longer than humans should have any right to survive
-guardians take magic from their orogene charges, which helps them stave off the pain they are constantly in
-when schaffa is about to die, the earth provides an influx of magic that mends his wounds enough for him to continue to survive. it also erases much of his former identity (and would have entirely, if not for the strength of his will). guardians are not supposed to allow this to happen to themselves. the earth wants this to happen to them.
-the people in syl anagist's briar patch are kept just alive enough so that they can continue generating magic to feed the city and the obelisks. magic is the stuff of life.
-the magic the guardians take from both the orogenes and the earth is what allows them to live for so long...? as well as providing their superhuman capabilities (speed, strength), since they have access to far more of it than the average person would
-the original "guardians" were probably the syl anagistines who were present at zero site when everything went wrong... when the ball of stone from the earth's core shattered. or, actually, i'm skimming back through that last syl anagist chapter, and hoa says that the earth "learn[ed] how to take control of individual human lives" EVEN BEFORE burndown actually happened. the people there at burndown were supposed to die. their will is all that kept them alive afterwards.
the wire chairs, which were eventually used for creating new guardians and for the node maintainers, originated in syl anagist. they were used for the tuners at zero site.
god. the fucking. guardians. the earth tried to kill them from the very beginning, but they resisted. rebuilt the world until the guardian order exists as we know it in the story's present day...... the orogenes and the lorists both may have originated from keleni's descendants......... hnnnnn
#broken earth spoilers#tre reads#broken earth#the fifth season#the obelisk gate#the stone sky#nk jemisin#schaffa guardian warrant#hoa#houwha#keleni#syl anagist#just fic thoughts
0 notes
Text
Frustrated
Member : Kim Namjoon
My day had been going amazing. If you know what I mean. I spilled my hot coffee all over the kitchen platform and then had to clean it up in my work clothes. Somehow my sleeve came in contact with the spilt coffee and the whole day it was in the back of my mind, my fingers frequently feeling sticky even though they weren't.
The presentation that I had been working on the whole night was labeled, 'subpar' by my boss while the barely put together idea of my colleague was blessed with praises. I don't know whether my boss favors people intentionally or unknowingly but today it really got on my nerves.
"Unclench your jaw, baby," I jumped at the voice behind me. "You'll drive your teeth into your gums at this point."
A smiling Namjoon appeared from behind me. As I stopped, he towered over me as his gentle gaze swept over my face. "You look like you've had a bad day," His stroked my head and then offered me his hand.
"Let's get you home and all burrito-ed up in the covers, come on! Monnie's been missing his mum." He pulled me along with him towards his car. Well, his company car that comes with a chauffeur.
"You really don't need to come pick me up in the middle of work." I murmured as we settled in the backseat.
"Of course I do." He intertwined our fingers and kissed my knuckles.
*****
As soon as we stepped in, Monnie came running up to me. I scooped him up and started babying him. For a brief second I forgot everything that went wrong earlier. "Helloooo mah lil cloud baby! Who's mommy's cloud baby? You are yes you are!"
"Hey how come I never get greeted like that?!" Namjoon complained scowling at the two of us. I giggled and let Monnie down. I opened my arms towards Namjoon, "Come to mommy!" But as soon as I got closer he pushed away my face,"Not a chance, little lady." He said lowering his voice at the last part, making me pause and look away blushing.
I felt him staring at me and then he chuckled and went on his way towards our bedroom. I scowled and followed with Monnie on my heels, "Monnie isn't daddy being unfair? He always does that when he wants to win!" At that Namjoon's laughter filled the apartment.
Hmm, this day isn't that bad after all.
****
"Hey babe, what're you planning on doing now?" Joon asked as he walked into the kitchen. I was chilling on the counter, scrolling through pinterest.
"I don't know maybe I'll sketch for awhile. Why?"
"Oh good, because I have a few tracks to go over, so I'll be locked up in the studio tonight. Sorry, I was looking forward to reading together." He looked like Monnie when we ask him to wait for food.
I gave him a smile and a wave, "Its okay, I guess I'll be accompanied by Chandler and Monica and the others."
"Alright." He kissed my forehead and rushed up the stairs. A few seconds later I heard the studio door close. Monnie waddled up to me and rubbed against my legs, "I think we lost him to the music for the night. Such a shame, he was so young too..." I dramatically sighed and headed towards the couch.
*****
It had been an hour or so and I was hanging by a thread. My sketches weren't coming out the way they were supposed to. The eraser kept smudging the strokes and the paper kept getting irritating to the touch for some reason. I had switched off the TV show I had been watching thinking that it was the thing distracting me but everything was quiet and yet I couldn't seem to get it right.
The stroke I was making got a bit off course and ended up changing the whole shape of the sketch. That was the last straw. I slammed my book down and fell back on the couch. It wasn't like I had anger issues.
It was just I needed things to go according to what I visualize, I didn't know whether it was perfectionism but I was especially particular about mistakes when it came to things I liked, for example, art.
The frustrations from earlier in the day came flooding back to me. The presentation I had not slept the whole night for, I couldnt even make the stupid coffee without spilling it. And now I'm making mistakes at something I'm supposed to be good at.
Tears blurred my vision. What do I do?
I sat there, curled up on the couch, feeling silly for crying over little things. I hated how quickly I got frustrated. I hated how I cried when I got frustrated.
"Oh no...why is there a sad baby on the couch?"
I quickly wiped my eyes and sat up. Joon had come down, I assumed to get some beer, but I think he heard me sniffling. Seeing him made me break down all over again.
"I can't do it!" I exclaimed loudly startling him. "What, what? Can't do what, babe?" He asked kneeling in front of me and checking me for any injuries.
I pointed at all the messed up sketches on the coffee table. He turned around and looked at them. I felt so embarrassed because he knows I can do better than those untidy drawings. He must feel so disappointed being with such a failure I can't do stuff right.
I couldn't take all these heavy thoughts anymore. I slowly put my arms around his neck and pulled him towards me. He understood the gesture and sat down beside me. As I buried my face in his neck, he pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me.
His warmth felt good. His smell calmed me down. After a brief period of silence and of him rubbing my back and stroking my hair, he let out a loud sigh. "I'm sorry. I had a feeling your day wasn't going so well. I just...I just thought you looked fine earlier and well...I'm sorry I should've paid more attention."
Speechless, all I could do was stare at him. He looked really disappointed, I'm pretty sure he was blaming himself internally. He stared back at me as one of his hands rested on the back of my neck and the other around my waist.
"I'm so-"
"You don't have anything to be sorry about. I really was fine after you came to pick me up. But just you know," I tried to form my vexation into words, "I just- its like- Cuz Joon if I'm not good at what im supposed to be good at then what am I supposed to do?! Like am I really good at anything then?" I started to relate everything that was bugging me that week. Everything that pushed me to snap tonight, I told him. And I knew he'd listen patiently and understand. Because that's Namjoon.
"Basically that's it. I feel silly and better after saying all that out loud." I concluded. We had changed our previous position. My head was now on his lap, while he combed his fingers through my hair.
"Okay, so first of all, everything you were feeling wasn't silly. Next, I'm glad that you feel better and that I could help. So I was thinking, how about I blow off the company work-"
"No no! You know Yoongi already has a lot on him. You can't do that, I-"
"Relax, love! I was going to give half the work to Jungkook anyway. That little brat has been pestering me to give him some work or he'll and I quote — Start a wattpad account about me." The fed-up look on his face along with Kook's antics made me laugh.
"I'm pretty sure he already has fan accounts of you on social platforms." I stated as I sat up and dug my hand under the coffee table.
"Oh! Please don't start."
I pulled out the book we had been reading together and settled back in the same position again. I handed him the book, "Start reading, IQ 148." He gave me a disapproving look as he opened up the book. I smiled smugly at him and gave him a kiss on his thigh. He immediately averted his eyes, pretending to search for a page trying to hide his bashful smile.
He started reading. His deep voice and his fingers that were combing though my hair, made me release a sigh of relief. I felt light after venting and my mind was clear. At some point, Monnie joined us to cuddle on the couch.
I guess it doesn't matter how bad things go. I just need him beside me and we'll be fine.
For more:
#bts comfort#bts fanfction#bts fluff#imagines#x reader#bts fic#fluff imagine#fanfic#namjoon x reader#namjoon imagine#namjoon fanfic#namjoon ff#bts ff#bts x reader
49 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’ve seen a fad where people describe their original character’s personality with a few canon characters from different series.
What characters do you think you could combine to make Joelle?
☆꧁✬◦°˚°◦. ♠ ♣ ♥ ♦ .◦°˚°◦✬꧂☆
Thank you for the ask Mel! It actually took me a good amount of time to even decide upon who would be most fitting to build Joelle. Since she has some of my own self insert in her , but really which oc doesn't? It was kind of hard to decide xD But I think I've managed to collect the ones that are pretty relatable with my character. So here it goes!
Lucy - Elfen Lied
If I have to be honest I've never would of thought upon how similar Joelle and Lucy stories are. I was never intending to have so many similarities with this specific characters until recently I stumbled upon a video that made me remember a bit more about the anime and how it played out. Lucy is a very interesting character , born with a 'sickness' ever since she was little kind of reminded me upon Joelle's origin as a pillar both past and present . Lucy has been bullied , barely knew any kind of friends and because of her 'sickness' everyone was after her because what she can cause with her powers , until she stumbled upon one that really liked her for who she was [Kind of gives me the possible Joseph or Rei vibes but without the romantic kind of intent that was implied in the story because Lucy did fall in love with her best friend.] She was brought into a lab to keep away from the outside world and experimented on , until she broke out and was given a chance for a second life regardless of what she had witnessed and did in her youth.
Ren Tao - Shaman King
A few aspects that I can collect from Ren are the anger he has built for humanity that really matches with Joelle's story . Because when she ended up in the XPD facility where they did various of experiments on her and basically played her like a toy she began to pile up a lot of anger upon those people creating an image in her head that they were all the same . But after meeting with someone who opened her eyes to the world , she began to have another look upon things and wanted to try and move on and heal but also find a new purpose in life .
Edward Elric - Fullmetal Alchemist
When ever I would look at Ed I could actually see a few aspects of Joelle as well , because of his own determination to fix what he has done in the past and return his brother back to his original body , reminds me of how Joelle wants to protect her new family and find a way to stop evil from prevailing . It also gives a pinch of hint upon how him and his brother were trying to bring back their mother , is a similarity upon how Joelle wanted to bring back her own mother but instead she ended up releasing a curse that later on haunts her , the same way Ed and Alphonse tried to bring their mother back and ended up creating a homunculus being. Sadly I haven't watched brotherhood and I really need to , but I'd assume I'd find even more similarities if I do so~. But I do however see a lot of pieces of Ed in Joelle!
Misaki Ayuzawa - Kaichou wa maid-sama
This goes a bit on her emotional side to be honest. Misaki is a perfect representation of Joelle , a strong and very responsible individual and yearns for a piece of romance in her life that will assure her that they will stay with them for who they are . A perfect aspect of her Tsundere side because she is very conflicted and very confused when it comes to these sort of things. I absolutely adore her strong character and how she is able to handle so many responsibilities , reminds me upon her current position in the SpeedWagon foundation , a lot fear her because of how she would act and how her attitude just goes across the room, but a good amount also admire her when they get to know her personally and understand her better upon why she is the way she is , that she has a very gentle side to her.
Chise Hatori - Ancient Magus Bride
Another little lost soul that was being sold to the world. Chise has always been one of my most favorite characters once I started the anime , the aspects of her that I see in Joelle are the growth she managed to accomplish with herself , she used to have a normal life a happy family , but eventually that turned around when 'dark beings' (which would hint the cults of Hearteater) began to make their way into their life and make it more dangerous to be around , and even the fact that her own 'blood and family' tried to kill her is the hint of her father that almost killed her. [But in the anime it was the mother that tried to.] She eventually ends up in good hands which help her see the world with different eyes and find who she really is and help her discover her own courage and determination that she wants to do better for herself and others around her .
Shigeo Kageyama - Mob Psycho
Little little shy Mob~. He was one of my main inspirations if I have to be honest because a lot matched with the two of them. This comes around her more doubtful and shy side. Mob is a perfect representation of both Joelle's moods , when she is sweet and respectful to a menace and a deadly being if they come near their family. Her relationship with Reigen matches with the one me and my friend Mel have with Joelle and Yorie . Let's not forget about how crazy batshid he went when they took his brother away and he was willing to do everything in his powers to save him... but there was also the fire in his house.. now that is basically the next level of Chapter Death in a sense. But for real there are a lot of aspects behind Mob that I connect with Joelle and how her character is displayed~.
Yuuji Itadori - Jujutsu Kaisen
Yuji is the aspect of Joelle that exists kind of rare but it's still there , it's her little goofy side , but the amount of love for her friends and family is also there . His determination and courage to protect his new friends is the same as Joelle trying to protect her own regardless of what kind of burden both of them carry that can cause the destruction of the world, even if the the two of them might appear weak to most they would always throw themselves in danger to protect their loved ones , but later one begin to grow in personality and strength . Maybe I can even connect a tad bit Sukuna and Chapter Death because both are the representation of the final stage when the 'scary' takes over and would basically erase your existence . Yuji and His friends remind me a whole lot of Joelle and her own little crew and how each of them help each other and will always be there no matter what. Basically the hero that wants to save everyone and doesn't really care what happens to them , as long as everyone is safe .
Manjiro Sano and Ken Ryuguji - Tokyo Revengers
These two go in pair ~. I see a big portion of aspects of the two in Joelle and each of them kind of represent her 'goofy' and her very serious and respect side. Mikey is a bit more laid back and chill but at the same time very scary , a bit how Joelle is in a sense how she can be so calm on certain occasions until she finally snaps and beats the crap of anyone who doubted her and called her 'small and helpless.' This is the aspect I enjoy the most between the two because they underestimate their opponent and then get their ass handed to them , that's how the two kind of go xD. Draken would be maybe her grown up and mature side in a way and the one that keeps things in line when ever there is justice that needs to be served because no one is allowed to hurt their friends and family. Very loyal and determined and even jump down to apologize for their wrongs to try and correct themselves and possibly help their friends understand the situation a little better , unless there is no way out they always try and reason first before jumping into action.
Nezuko Kamado - Demon Slayer / Kimetsu no Yaiba [New Add]
I almost forgot!! Honestly I can't forget to include my favorite little goofball . Another little demon that I can see a lot of personality traits and aspects in Joelle as well. Nezuko and Tanjiro are also a good representation of both Jericho and Joelle in a sense because of how strong their bond is beyond anything . I don't want to spoil anything in my current arcs because I want to keep it a surprise since I have a whole lot of things to decide on . Nezuko displays Joelle's very protective side and very caring one as well the side of value she feels towards her surroundings and regardless of being a little 'different' she still is the same person no matter what happens and will never lose her humanity even after being 'cursed'. And even be a little bit of a hint of her sensitive and cute side too regardless that she doesn't show it too often xD.
Saitama - One Punch Man
And last but not least , I put him on the bottom because at the beginning when I was creating Joelle I would always think of Saitama and how she was going to play out of sort of a joke that is really powerful and kind of blunt in a sense . But now she has grown so much and has so much potential , story and personality behind her that you can't even imagine! Saitama was maybe my very first inspiration when I created her because for some odd reason I really like OP shid and I mean literally xD. I don't know why but I just do , but regardless of Joelle being kind of OP orientated , later on when I began to play out her story I started to balance her because I wanted her to seem a bit more real other than I just came here to kick your ass and you're dead now lmfao. She still has some funny little aspects of Saitama behind her that's for sure , but she is completely different now and I am super proud of what a long journey she has gone through and grown so much as a character ^ ^.
Thank you so much for sending in dear!!I really enjoyed this ask <333!! - Cards
#jojo oc#jjba oc#joelle joestar ask#joelle ask#joelle joestar#build joelle joestar#build joelle#character inspiration#Elfen Lied Lucy#Lucy#Ren Tao#shaman king#shaman king ren tao#Fullmetal Alchemist#Fullmetal Alchemist Edward#Edward Elric#Misaki Ayuzawa#kaichou wa maid sama#Ancient Magus Bride#Chise Hatori#Shigeo Kageyama#Mob Psycho 100#Yuji Itadori#Jujutsu Kaisen#Manjiro Sano#ken ryuguji#tokyo revengers#Saitama#One Punch Man#One punch man saitama
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
More than friends | Carter Hart
A/n: Sooo, I was supposed to be done with this piece before our win last night, but my laptop keeps stopping, and the new one only arrives this week, in the meantime I’m stuck with this one and taking longer than ever to write the requests. Anyway, thank you for the patience, and if you want to support my writing, you can always like, reblog and share my posts with a friend you think might like it.
Shout out to Tori for the amazing job proofreading this piece. You’re the best, @guentzgoal
PS. The songs mentioned in this chapter are Hozier (work song) and Ed Sheeran (friends).
Requested: Yes
Word count: 2k
Warnings: mention of Friday’s mess aka 5-0 against the Canadiens.
Summary: You’re the media management to the Philadelphia Flyers, and during the bubble time, you get closer to Carter being the person he runs to after the terrible game that day. You two finally realize something more developed between the friendship.
When everything started to crumble down, he wished for you. He’d imagined that you were probably in your room cuddled up with a bunch of blankets listening to your Hozier-favorites playlist while sipping cold tea. Carter occasionally even wished for everything to be a nightmare, that he was just sleeping on your couch while you watched one of your favorite horror movies, any different situation would be better than the current disaster happening.
He couldn’t help but blame himself for every little thing.
He was the one that let the puck reach the net four times, he thought.
Somehow his head made him sure of this thought when he was pulled off the ice to the bench. He was angry, afflict, and all he wanted was for the team to score at least once or twice, so the loss wouldn’t be as awful as it was feeling at the time.
But as you would sometimes say to him, “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” and even more than to hear your strange sayings, Carter liked to internalize them, because usually, they were great instructions for life. And to think that “life is no pony farm” was useful in times like this, it reminded him that it doesn’t matter how much he wished or worked, sometimes, it wasn’t meant to be. However, it didn’t erase your feelings, and that’s why he was fuming when he closed the door and went to the locker room.
He tried to look unbothered enough to the media on the aftergame conversation, but on the inside, Carter was drowning in stress and guilt. During the drive back to the hotel, he thought about texting you to let you know he was crashing in your room that night, but he got carried away reading what people were thinking about his performance in the game.
Most of them hated it.
And so did he.
Carter was thinking about how poorly he played when he knocked at your door, and you probably thought the same, but Carter wanted, no, he needed to see you and hear you, and he was sure you wouldn’t let him down. Your presence always did wonders for him and his self-esteem. He would probably hear “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” for the hundredth time, talk about how shitty he was feeling and let you caress his hair, and only this itself would make his day a little better.
When the door opened to show you wearing a bathrobe, Carter lost his air for a couple of seconds. The mop of curls wet sitting on the top of your head, the dark skin, long lashes, full lips...everything about you was perfect to him, and he cheesily thought that maybe in another lifetime you were his queen and he would bow and adore you like you were the most perfect thing to walk the earth.
“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her” Hozier was softly playing inside your room.
Carter thought about what to say, but nothing seemed to be enough, nothing made justice to how he was feeling on the inside, but he knew by the look in your eyes that you understood everything, every little detail, every bruise, and every deep and shaky breath.
You took the bag from his shoulders and dropped it on the side of the door, before grabbing his hand and bringing his body closer. You watched the whole game while working on some management reports, as part of the media management team. You wished you were there. Nevertheless, just like the hockey team, everyone had a specific task, and yours today was writing and studying some more essential ideas discussed previously. You were not expecting Carter to show up at your door so soon. You knew he would eventually come around, and Carter said himself that he preferred to be close to you whenever he felt bad because you knew exactly when to ramble about yourself to take his mind off whatever was bothering him and when to listen to him and give advice.
As soon as his scent hit your nose, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the hug. He was warm, and his hair was still wet from the shower, the fabric of his suit brought some kind of comfort when it came in contact with your skin and all you wanted to do was hold him until all his anguish was over.
“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you whispered, peppering kisses along the exposed skin of his neck and jaw, the available surfaces when you crushed against him.
You felt Carter nod his head, before finally putting a small space between the two of you.
“I’m sorry I forgot to text you to ask if I could just show up and…”
“Hey, it’s fine, we’re friends, no need to stress over this. And yes, you can crash here tonight as long as nobody notices, you know,” you traced his nose and the crease in his eyebrows.
And as much as you noticed every little detail of him, you were not able to see the way his face twitched when you said “friends” because as much as he loved your friendship, he got himself wishing for more in times like these.
“Thank you,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to your forehead.
You disappeared to take off the moisturizer from your hair, and Carter took the time to make himself comfortable by taking his jacket off along with his shoes, letting the blankets on the couch engulf his body.
“Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” you whispered when you came back. Now dressed in your pajamas and with your hair slightly damp, you lay beside your favorite goaltender on the couch. He dropped his head to your shoulders and made himself small, so you could take care of him the way he liked. And so with your favorite playlist playing and your fingers massaging gently at his scalp Carter fell asleep.
He woke up with your voice distant, and a playlist still going, although it was not the Hozier one anymore. The room was darker than when he lay there, the only source of light coming from the open windows and one lamp, he noticed that you had lit a candle on the coffee table and that there was also a cup of water sitting there.
Carter felt cared for and loved. He loved how your little details always made him feel better.
“I called room service, they’re getting our dinner here soon…” you appeared in the room again with your cellphone in your hands. “What’s up?” you asked, laying beside Carter one more time.
The distance was little, and he thought about the way your friendship worked. It felt like more than friendship, and Carter took his time thinking about how he never sleeps with his friends like he sleeps with you. The way his friends cared about him but never the way you did. How he wanted to kiss you goodbye every time you parted ways and how he wished to just lay with you for as long as possible, just taking your scent in, enjoying your company, and your very specific playlists.
“Hartsy?” you called again, confused with how he just zoned out. “Is everything okay? What are you thinking about?”
He shifts on the couch, and now your faces are even closer. “Nothing...I was...this is a good song, never heard it.”
You chuckled before directing your attention to the lyrics playing as background noise. Your heart did a little double-take, and you couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the face in front of yours.
“Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don't treat me like you do. Well, I know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you. No, my friends won't love me like you.”
You shivered when his thumb found your chin bringing your face even closer. It slipped through your face drawing little dots connecting every far end. You enjoyed the feeling, and though his hands were calloused, the pad of his fingertips felt soft and comfortable against your skin.
“Are we friends, or are we more?” his voice was so low you were sure if you weren’t staring at his lips, you would not understand.
And when his thumb found your lips opening slightly, you closed your eyes, too overwhelmed with the new sensations to bother with an answer. You wanted him to crash the space between your lips and finally dive in, you wanted him to be more than friends, and you wanted to comfort him after everything.
You wanted Carter and Carter only.
You wanted to be more than friends.
Carter tested the waters by dipping his face and caressing your nose with his. He liked the way your faces seemed to fit in place, and he was determined to kiss you when the bell rang loudly in your room.
“I have a saying for this,” you breathed out, wanting to laugh about the situation. “Aller Anfang ist schwer.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I’ll let you know later,” you fooled before getting up and going to answer the door.
Your legs were like jelly, and your mind was working at a fast pace, but still, you tried to keep composure.
Eating dinner after that interaction shouldn’t be easy, but it was for you and Carter, so he handled it so well it made you even more sure about how much you liked him. It wasn’t a real talkative dinner, but considering that hours prior, Carter was like a sad puppy, to see him smiling shyly at you was a victory.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked when you finished.
“You already did,” you tried to mess with him, and Carter rolled his eyes before getting on the couch again. “Of course you can, Hartsy.”
And so the rest of the night was just you and Carter randomly talking and listening to your playlist. He didn’t ask his question again, and neither did you, but you knew he was thinking about it when you went to bed. Especially laying there side by side.
You were used with his naked chest and with his sleep pants, but it felt different that night, and the question keeps replaying in your head. So this time, you were the one to voice it.
“Are we friends?” you turned to him.
Carter sat in front of you, grabbing your hands. His fingers were cold against your palm, and you shivered one more time that day.
“We’ve been ‘friends’ like this for more than a year, and even though I don’t know the turning point I know we are more than that and have been for a long time now,” his voice was firm like he was sure about what he was saying as he thought about it before. Your eyes dropped to your intertwined fingers, and you took a long breath before Carter started talking again. “Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don’t treat me like you do...everything my friends do to me feels different when it comes to you.”
It was the blink of an eye before your lips were connected, and you tried containing the growing smile between your lips. Carter’s lips were soft against yours, he felt like a summer day, one you waited a whole year for, and when it finally happened, it felt surreal. It wasn’t weird kissing him. It wasn’t odd sleep laying on top of him that night because it felt natural, it wasn’t anything new for the two of you. You were friends at the start, sure, but at some point, it turned into more, and you both handled it like it was only a friendship. You were happy to finally realize it had been more between each word, each interaction, each cheek kiss, and hug.
Sleep came easy that night, for you and him.
And even though his severe loss earlier, Carter felt valid.
You were there, you were his number one fan winning or losing, and he was happy he got to have a stable relationship with you.
“Do you have a saying for that?” he asked jokingly.
“Unfortunately, no,” you held his face close, lips centimeters away. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to spend time with sayings when I can spend time kissing you,” you confessed.
He chuckles, “Suddenly, life feels like a pony farm.”
You can find more of my work here
#carter hart#nhl fanfiction#hockey imagine#carter hart imagine#philadephia flyers#flyers#black!reader#friends to lovers#nhl imagine#mels writing
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
CONDITIONALLY YOURS [1]
Summary: After a minor glitch you are left living with someone you never dreamed of living with. While you swear nothing will happen, a lot can change in the span of a month...
Warnings: language
A/N: This is the new series I have inspiration for right now as classes start up again soon. Does not take place in the current universe... literally no social distancing. Putting Eye on the Target on hold. If you liked Watch Me Babygirl you might like this series ;)
----
Starting college was stressful on its own. Beyond moving to a new school in a new state with new people, moving sucked. Moving was the worst part, in fact, you decided as you hauled up your fifth box from your car to your dorm room. It was digging into your arms and your hands as you hauled it up the four flights of stairs to your room, squishing to the side of the stairwell to allow other students moving in to squeeze by you in a hurry to unpack their own things. You decided that after you finished moving you would never use the stairs ever again. You’d had enough stairs to last you for the rest of your life.
“Woo, I think I’m going to die,” you huffed to your best friend as he followed you into your new room carrying a box filled with your clothes. He snorted as he set the box by your desk and looked around your room. Your side was empty save the boxes of your things while your roommates’ side was completely unpacked - no boxes in sight - and organized.
“The good thing is that I think your roommate has already moved in so maybe she can help you finish unpacking and get organized,” Wooyoung commented as he stared at the made bed across from you stark one.
You nodded as you looked around the room, taking particular interest in your roommate’s decor. It was nice, you finally decided. It was not only neat and tidy - all of the posters and picture frames were hung up straight with command strips - but the colors were calming. You figured the two of you would get along just fine.
“Hey I think that was the last box by the way,” Wooyoung motioned to the stack of boxes scattered on (objectively) your half of the room. “Want to help me unpack my boxes from my car into my room?”
“I guess it’s only fair,” you joked as you followed him out of your room, closing the door soundly behind you.
“I kind of hate that we live across campus from one another,” Wooyoung remarked. “Like… it almost makes me feel lonely being so far from you.”
You simply smiled at your best friend. The thing about Wooyoung was that he easily made friends. He was positive and boisterous and seemed to just attract people. He would soon find himself surrounded by plenty of friends in his dorm. You… you were hoping to find friends in classes and school clubs where you knew you would at least have something in common with them. It wasn’t like you were sure you and Wooyoung would drift apart, but you were worried that your friendship may be tested in such a new environment. After having become friends your Junior year of high school the two of you had seemed almost inseparable, but now you weren’t so sure you were.
Pushing all thoughts from your mind, you grabbed the first box from Wooyoung’s car and gritted your teeth as you started your ascent to his third floor dorm room.
Four exhausting hours later, you were laying in your room on your freshly made bed. Nothing other than your sheets and bathroom supplies had been unpacked. You knew you would eventually have to get up to find your pajama box, but that was a problem for future Y/N. Right now you just wanted to close your eyes and rest. Your limbs hurt and muscles you didn’t even know you had were starting to ache. Reaching over to turn off the light above the center of the room, you snuggled into your sheets and dozed.
You didn’t even hear your roommate come back. Upon seeing your sleeping form, your roommate decided to simply leave the lights off and shower in the ensuite shower in darkness and near silence. They figured it wouldn’t be a good first impression to wake you up… They understood just how tiring moving could be.
Here’s the thing about suddenly living in such close proximities with strangers though: you get woken up by nearly any sound they make before you know them and their routines. You weren’t fully out of your dazed state until you heard the shower shut off. Your eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness of the room but you couldn’t imagine it would be easy for your roommate to navigate the mess of boxes coming out of a brightly lit bathroom into sudden darkness.
Sliding off of your bed, you moved to turn on the light by the dorm door to give your roommate some light.
The click of the bathroom door startled you as you turned around after having flicked the lights on.
“I figured it would be easier for you if I turne-”
Holy shit. Holy fuck.
A boy around your age was staring back at you in shock, his grey sweatpants hanging loosely off of his hips, no shirt in sight, and his hand frozen towel-drying his hair. And he was not simply a half-naked boy around your age, but a HOT half-naked boy around your age. Your eyes seemed to move on their own as you scanned him, spending more time than necessary staring at his slightly damp abs.
God, you felt like you were in a stupid drama. This had to be a dream. Or your roommate let her boyfriend into your room while you were asleep to shower in your room because you had a nice shower. Those were the only two options. It wasn’t as if he could have come into the wrong room… the doors locked automatically behind you and only the person with the correct key could get in. It was simple mechanics.
So why was this boy standing there staring back at you with wide eyes? And who was this boy?
“I - uh - you live here - like HERE here, like in this room… with me?” you mumbled intelligently.
“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled back, equally as intelligently.
You noticed a slight blush rising on his neck the longer the two of you stood there. You moved to the side to let him find a shirt to put on, paying extra attention to the slight curve of his ass in his sweatpants as he bent down to find a shirt in his drawer set. Everything about this boy was attractive, you noted.
He turned back around, no longer shirtless, and cleared his throat suddenly.
“I, uh, I guess we should probably go downstairs to the desk and see if they can assign us to different rooms,” he reasoned. “I’ll either move or help you move when they reassign us. I’m, yeah, I’m really sorry about this.”
His sudden statement wasn’t entirely surprising to you. The dorms didn’t allow co-ed roommates otherwise you and Wooyoung may have lived together. You simply nodded back, your keys already in your hand to troop down to the ground floor. You would just have to endure the stairs one more time because God forbid you get stuck in an elevator with this boy, too.
“I’m Y/N by the way,” you said desperately to erase the awkward silence between the two of you.
“Seonghwa,” the boy replied coolly.
Fitting name, you thought as you pushed open the door to the ground floor. A cool and sexy name for a cool and sexy guy I guess.
Despite move-in having finished for the day, the ground floor was in chaos. Students were complaining of beds not having been lifted, of clogged sinks, of lights not turning on, of awful roommates, of missing items. Every time you turned someone was complaining about something else. The line to the front counter snaked across the room.
“Maybe it’s not just us,” you reasoned as the two of you got in the back of the line. You peered through the crowd but you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the front of the line now.
“If we can’t get up to the front before the station closes do you have somebody you can stay with tonight?” Seonghwa questioned. “I have a few friends I might be able to crash with if you don’t.”
“I don’t have any friends besides Wooyoung, and I don’t think his roommate would be too cool with me crashing there.”
In reality you had no idea if Wooyoung or his roommate would be okay with it or not. You didn’t want to move your stuff, you didn’t want to deal with any paperwork, you didn’t want to do anything. It had been an exhausting day and all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.
“We can only take a few high priority cases before we have to close for the night. IF the issue DIRECTLY concerns your safety, please come forward. Otherwise, we apologize for any inconveniences. Thank you.”
A collective groan went up from the crowd. The surge of people to go back to their rooms pushed you and Seonghwa back against a wall. He simply sighed as he watched the organized chaos, his eyes scanning the crowd in annoyance. His jaw was tight and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.
“Here,” he held out his hand, “I don’t want to get separated in this crowd. I think we should go back upstairs and figure out what we’re going to do next.”
You hummed in agreement as you grabbed his hand. It was warm and surprisingly soft, and you squeezed it tightly as Seonghwa wove his way up to the stairs and to your fourth floor room. The stairwell was hell and you rammed your hip into the railing multiple times as Seonghwa led you through the crowd. The girls seemed to move out of his way without even thinking about it, pausing and stepping back enough when admiring him to let you through the gaps. You had to admit, Seonghwa did look very handsome even with his disheveled, damp hair and casual clothes. Still, there were so many people on the stairs it was impossible you wouldn’t get bumped at all.
Arriving at your floor, you felt the rush of cool air as you stepped into the hallway. Seonghwa didn’t let go of your hand as he led you to your shared room despite the hallway being entirely empty. You chuckled at the action and squeezed his hand tightly before releasing it. You didn’t need protection anymore and your hand was starting to get clammy. The last thing you needed was to sweat on your hot roommate.
Seonghwa seemed shocked. His eyes went wide as he stopped and stared down at his hand before shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants.
“Sorry. I didn’t even realize,” he commented as he unlocked your door and went inside. He settled on his bed and stared blankly across the room. You followed suit to sit cross legged on your bed, staring at him expectantly.
“I guess I’ll pack a bag and go stay with my friend-”
“Just stay,” you interrupted. As the two of you had stood in line together you’d been thinking… “It’s not fair to either of us. Why should either of us move? Besides, this room is prime with a bathroom in it and it’s on the corner. Based on the amount of people downstairs and during move-in, I seriously doubt there’s any open rooms, especially in this dorm. This is the most popular dorm on campus. You’re going to give it up because someone else made a mistake?”
Seonghwa looked skeptical but he didn’t interrupt. He only nodded pensively as he stared at you, his eyes narrowed and sucking on his cheek. You had some good points. Still…
“Won’t it be uncomfortable?”
“Why? Because we’re the opposite gender means we have to have a romantic or sexual relationship? Just don’t walk around naked and we’ll be fine,” you dismissed. “It won’t be weird if we don’t make it weird.”
Seonghwa still didn’t seem convinced.
“Look. Let’s give it a trial period, say a month. If it’s weird, we’ll tell someone and get reassigned. Win-win.”
It was silent in your room as Seonghwa pondered your offer. In some ways, it made a lot of sense. Why give up your spot, not get refunded on your rent, and have to go the process of moving again in the same week just because of a computer glitch? No, better to stay put. Even if Seonghwa moved out you would still feel obligated to help him… which would mean you were also moving in a way. Not worth it. Also, while you found him attractive it stopped there. You didn’t know him. He was interesting physically only. It wasn’t like you wanted to become intimate with him. Besides, it didn’t seem like he liked you too much anyways.
“Fine.”
You blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah fine,” he sighed, “on one condition. We don’t tell anyone. Not even our friends. I don’t want to make it weird for them either. I don’t want to answer their questions. I just… don’t. Deal?”
You smirked at him, your eyes lighting up. Winking quickly, you got up to grab your shower things and a box marked “pajamas and towels.” Walking toward the shower, you dropped your stuff inside before turning and sticking your head out into the room.
“Deal.”
With the resounding clack of the bathroom door shutting and soft click of the lock it was decided: you and Seonghwa were officially roommates. At least for the month.
#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#seonghwa reactions#seonghwa scenarios#seonghwa imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#kpop imagines#kpop fic#seonghwa fic#ateez fic#wooyoung#seonghwa#ateez#kpop#myimagines#conditionally yours post
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
a little bit longer | shawn mendes
shawn x goth oc
forevermore 2/?
AN: haha,,,,,, guess whos simping again. i’ll be posting a throwback one shot featuring shawn n ann in a few days too,,,,,,
PREVIOUS
masterlist | playlist
It all started with abdominal pain. It always seemed to start that way. This time around, Shawn nor Ann didn't worry because, well, money. Shawn had better resources, and a personal doctor on call to prescribe Ann the best combo of antibiotics. That should have been that, but it's never that simple.
Ann had gone back to work once she started taking the antibiotics, so she missed out on more meetings with Isabella. She didn’t seem that torn up about it. Isabella went through the contract with a fine toothed comb, trying to find some type of loophole to get Shawn and Camila out of this. In other words, Shawn was too focused, and too physically distant from his girlfriend, so when he got a phone call, it was like being hit with ice cold water.
“Your wife is in critical condition, you need to come right away.”
That’s all it took for Shawn to forget everything else. He didn’t even double take at the fact that the person on the other line said “wife.” (Ann put Shawn down as an emergency contact, but it was unknown as to what she put as her relation to him until now.) He didn't say a single word to Camila or Isabella as he grabbed his keys and bolted. Nothing mattered, not the traffic, not the lights, not the pap van following his Jeep, not the fact that he could very well violate his contract by doing this. It doesn't matter.
Shawn got to the hospital and approached the help desk in the main lobby. "I'm here to see Annalise Flores."
"What is your relationship?" the receptionist asked, typing on the computer.
He was going to answer, but then someone cut him off and approached the desk.
"Ex-boyfriend." It was Eduardo Flores, Ann's father. He had a stern look on his face, which only added to his intimidating goth appearance.
Shawn hadn't seen this man in years. Ed let his hair grow and held it back in a bun. He had plenty more tattoos going up and down his arms, and he was decked out in all black like always. The thing is, he wasn't normally this intimidating or angry looking.
"This guy isn't allowed to see my daughter, you hear me?" Ed said to the receptionist.
"That would be up to the patient," she said back.
"I, I wasn't-" Shawn feebly tried to cover up his reason for being here, but Ed cut him off again.
"I heard you say her name. What, you break up years and years ago but you suddenly want her back now that she's sick and vulnerable? You should have thought about that a long time ago!"
Shawn only remained silently confused. What exactly did Ann tell her parents about their break up six years ago? Regardless, he had to think on the fly.
"We're still friends, sir," he said.
"Gentlemen, if you could please clear the area," the receptionist piped up.
The two of them moved out to the waiting room. Shawn still tried to reason with Ed.
"We still talk, we're friends," he said. "She texted me and told me what was happening."
"Then how come she hasn't mentioned you before? Annalise never hides anything from me."
That wasn't exactly true. Ann hid plenty of things from her parents, even little things. Her parents spent a lot of her childhood fishing out any type of personal information from her to the point where she now kept her life as private as possible. She didn't want anyone knowing anything about her. Of course she didn't tell her parents about Shawn, apart from the fact that she wasn't allowed to.
Of course Shawn couldn't just outwardly say that Ann is his girlfriend at the risk of violating his contract… or at the risk that her parents keep up with celebrity gossip and knew that he was supposed to be seen with Camila. Still, he didn't regret going out into the public eye, his priority is Ann. But it was still frustrating that all of these cover ups had to happen, that Shawn had to think about every step he had to take next.
"Look, she is my best friend and I really care about her," he said, careful not to blatantly lie. "Can you just tell me what happened? Please, I'm worried about her too."
Ed gave him a once over, and then gave in. He was honestly very easy to persuade. Intimidating as he was on the outside, Ed was a big softie on the inside. "She admitted herself. Said she had a lot of pain in her abdomen. They took her for a CT and found internal bleeding, so now she's having an emergency surgery."
The news sent Shawn's stomach down to his feet. He thought about the last time he saw Ann, and how she was feeling. All she talked about were minor cramps. How did it escalate so drastically in a matter of days?
He suddenly looked up, realizing another pair of eyes was on him… or several.
The other receptionists at the main desk, some people in the waiting room, and even the security guards at the lobby entrance were doing double takes at Shawn. Even when he had his own problems and was very visibly distressed, he was still a pop star.
That was when all of his media training came to mind. He shouldn't be here because of all the eyes and ears and smartphones. He shouldn't be here because if Andrew or Justin found out they would be pissed. He shouldn't be here because the media will find a way to find out why he was here, who he was here for, and then Ann would be pissed.
He immediately stood up straighter, trying to erase the distress from his face.
"Is anyone else here for her?" he asked Ed.
"Her cousin Jimena is on the way," he replied. "More relatives will probably come and go all day."
Shawn nodded. At least Ann wouldn't be alone, but that didn't stop the sinking sensation in his stomach. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. "Would you tell her I stopped by?"
"You don't want to tell her yourself?" Ed asked, confused. "I mean, you're here after all."
"Yeah, but I figured none of your family would want to see me, so…"
Ed simply gave him a look. "Right. You're a big shot rockstar now, too good for my daughter, huh?"
"No, of course not-"
"Don't worry about it. No one will ever know you were here." Ed shrugged and walked off towards the lobby exit.
Shawn stood there, frustrated. Apparently, when your daughter dumps her boyfriend, you and the entire extended family must blacklist said boyfriend, even if he makes a comeback and proves that he still cares about said daughter. Yes, Ann was the one to end things with Shawn in 2020, but he was the bad guy.
Next time, Shawn would just have to play nice and accept the passive aggression from Ann's parents and other family members he might run into.
With a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He sent a text to Isabella, apologizing for the sudden departure and letting her know what had happened. Now that he was over the initial shock, he felt a little guilty for leaving the meeting so suddenly.
Then, he went for the exit. He saw Ed re-entering, this time with a young woman at his side.
She was tall, brown, and had short spiky hair. Decked out in a red t-shirt and ripped light wash jeans. That was Jimena Velazquez, one of Ann's cousins. She made eye contact with Shawn as she passed by him. Perplexed but still with recognition. She didn't say anything because Ed was speaking to her.
Shawn met her once before, when he met Ann's extended family for the first time in 2020. Jimena was really laid back and kind, immediately accepting Shawn into the family. Ann always referred to her as the sister she never had. Of course she would be here on this day.
If only Shawn could do the same.
_______
NEXT
gonna make a new taglist so lmk if you wanna be added!
#shawn mendes#shawn mendes imagine#shawn mendes smut#shawn x goth gf#look whos back baybee#i hope i can keep up with this#shawn got me feelin some kinda way lately#im lov him still ok
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
I also recently watched Bridgerton, and I think I liked it (I binged the first 7 episodes and had to force myself through the last so I don’t really remember much) but it definitely had it’s flaws. I like that they didn’t go with the black people are lesser route because even though I think conversations about race are important (as a black woman), sometimes I just wanna live in a little fantasy bubble for a while and pretend everything is fine, but obviously that’s not realistic. I think there was a lack of proper development with some plots and characters which makes sense since it was only 8 episodes and mostly focused on Daphne. I did lose interest towards the end when it was just Simon and Daphne sleeping their way through an unhealthy relationship, but I’d probably watch another season. I also never thought about the bedroom scene in the context of her wrongfully forcing that on Simon. I didn’t like the way either of them handled it (Simon lying and Daphne tricking him and then the stupid trope of thinking her love should fix him), but I was more focused on the message about the lack of proper sex ed for women, and I really like that the show addressed it. I think it’s so stupid and sexist that women are just taught to wait till marriage and that even breathing the wrong way near a man will ruin them and then suddenly they’re thrust into marriage and everyone is like babies?? Like Daphne didn’t even know how children were conceived (I was so confused when Simon kept moving away cuz I was like “that’s not how it works, who directed this” lol), imagine how humiliating it would’ve been if she had asked someone who wasn’t looking out for her and they’d spread that info around. I think abstinence as the only form of sex ed is such a disservice to women because it leaves them vulnerable to so many things (in the best case not knowing their bodies and desires and in the worst falling prey to the terrible intentions of some men). It’s so stupid to tell someone not to have sex without teaching them what it is; when I was younger, I was sold on the wait till marriage stuff and I still did all kinds of things (willingly thank god) because I literally didn’t know anything about sex. It’s so upsetting that guys can just stick it anywhere and get off (and of course the boys will be boys excuse), while women get shamed into celibacy and are made to feel like their desires don’t matter. This rant was so unnecessary and off the rails but I just wanted to get this out (I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, please don’t answer this if I did).
i like how u say you *think* u liked it LOL 🤣🤣 you have a great point there abt the colorblind casting! we all consume TV in different ways & ofc your wanting to not think about race politics is very valid when you just wanna relax. i guess my biggest issue was with the “love conquers all” idea that they threw out there, bc like lol no, love does not erase racism/sexism/etc. but anyway. yes, i agree, there was a decent amount that the show did well, which is why i’ll be watching season 2 too! i like that there was a female focus in general, esp on Pen and the other side characters. i do think it should have been more than 8 episodes. or spaced out better. it felt like we went in slowly and then BOOM it all suddenly tumbled towards an end lmao.
i haven’t looked into this because my research area is more 18th century English society than 19th, but i’m honestly more than a little surprised that Daphne’s mom wasn’t more explicit about the sex talk?? like there wouldn’t have been formal education about it back then, but securing an heir was TOP PRIORITY. so i feel like maybe the mom (i forgot her name lol) would have at least mentioned something even a BIT more concrete about sex, even if she didn’t go into details like semen, etc. that rain on the plain shit was just ridiculous and awful LOL. i guess its so they could bolster the storyline of having Daphne not know what Simon’s been doing the whole time but 🙄 yeah ok.
i guess in the end im really gonna be watching for the side characters, bc Daphne and Simon definitely became boring lol. no i dont wanna watch softcore porn of them for 10 mins again 🙃 no matter how hot he is hahah. you cannot hide a weak storyline with a cute butt, damn it!!!!!!
#fun fact#they were given fertility charts over in Korea at around the same time lol#and there was indeed formal education about pregnancy#though limited#but still#the fun of *historical differences*#*jazz hands*#LOL#rain reply#dreamers#also sidenote#it took until the early 1700s for them to stop believing that women were just inferior veresions of men lmao#so#yeah#reading about womens rights back then is VERY infuriating#ive read my fair share of conduct literature from that period and ..... >:(((((((#bridgerton
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Episode 17 - Translation + Screenshots
Unfortunately, as there are no raws for me to sub, the best I can do for people who wish to understand what was happening this episode is to describe it the best I can with my translations.
There is really nothing else I can do about this situation; it’s completely out of my control.
-------
About Why No Full Script Release
I have changed my mind about releasing the full translated script because the document itself is very rough and not really meant to be read by anyone other than me and the proofreader. I also don’t feel comfortable releasing the whole thing without it having gone through the third “check” it usually does when I start timing and subbing.
For context, I usually translate as I watch, and everything is written down quickly as I get through it. This is the first draft, which I call the “rough” of my translation, and contains weird sentence structure + small mistranslations as I am mainly concerned about getting stuff down and less about the fine details.
At this point the document is sent to my proofreader who then combs over everything and fixes grammar, wording, and translation errors. The second draft after editing is what I call the “raw sub”, as this is the file I take into the subbing program.
The third and final check is during the timing process, as I move these lines from a text document onto the screen, and get to see how they work with the episode itself. Translations may be changed, words removed or redone, etc as I watch a second time and read over the work. This means that the “final” translation that you would normally see in a subbed episode goes through three different checks at different times to make sure it all comes together nicely.
Of course, stuff still slips through the cracks even with these checks, but it is a lot less with them.
For this reason, because the script hasn’t (and can’t) go through its third and final check, I do not want to release the full translation as it is still, in my mind, an incomplete work.
-------
Episode 17
My name is Neil, 11 years old, the person who controls providence.
It began when I was 3 years old.
My parents, [...], gave me something else to occupy my time with.
And that was... duels.
[OP plays here]
Winning as many tournaments as I did came easy to me.
Goha came to scout me, and gave me this garden.
A vast underground space that encompassed the entire city, the centre of it being my haven, along with the complete control and regulation of duels around the world
That was the beginning of my "providence".
At this point Otis comes in to ruin Neil’s complete control of the duel network. They exchange a few words; Neil recognizes Otis and vice versa. Neil asks if his interruption was his handiwork, and Otis says yes.
Duels as you know will change. A new King of Duels will be born soon.
Otis does not mean “born” literally, as Neil and Yuuga are the same age.
Neil goes on about how the “deviation” from the norm were Rush Duels and tried his hardest to erase them, but couldn’t. Then he found Yuuga.
Leave everything to providence.
Neil introduces himself as part of Goha Corporation.
Neil shows the USB stick with Kaizo’s data on it and Yuuga notices the Kaizo-seat react, so he deduces that it is real. Neil says he will only give it back if they win against the duelists that lurk within the Garden of Providence. However, if they lose 6 times overall, then it will be a complete defeat in his eyes, and he will delete their accounts permanently.
Yuuga asks why he doesn’t just delete everyone who has ever played a Rush Duel’s accounts, and Neil says it’s “not his providence”.
Yuuga: Then you won't cheat?
Neil: You're exactly how I imagined you. As expected of someone picked out by Otis.
[...]
Neil: Well then, have fun in the Garden.
At the end of this scene, Mimi is shocked that the rumored “genius programmer” within the company is just a child, and may be more important than her.
Yuuga and co. run into Nekoyama Schrödinger, who is the first duelist they must face. Luke volunteers to duel.
I'll pound some manners into that guy who wants to do something as ridiculous as permanent account deletion!
Duel proceeds. Nekoyama summons Blue Eyes White Cat and Red Eyes Black Cat, then sets 3 cards face down. Luke summons three monsters then tributes two of them for Rush Dragon Dragears.
He tries to attack but is stopped by Nekoyama’s trap card, which makes him have to guess what type of card is at the top of his deck.
If you're wrong, [your attack is] nyagated, and you take 300 damage, meow!
Romin says she’s worried, but Gakuto says it will be just alright.
At this point the word “worry” makes Luke finally remember his troubles from two episodes ago, at the start of 15.
That's right, I just remembered. The thing that I'm worried about.
When Yuuga becomes the King of Duels, will he really give the throne over to me? Agh, I remembered! What am I doing?! Why am I dueling a cat?!
Luke becomes too pre-occupied with his thoughts and decides to guess “monster” for what’s at the top of his deck. He is wrong and takes 300 damage.
He tries to attack again, but runs into Nekoyama’s trap card again.
Nekoyama: It's said that there are many possibilities that can coexist within this world.
Luke: What are you talking about?
Nekoyama: You and I, at the same time, can both win and lose this duel.
Yuuga: That's Schrödinger's Cat.
Once again Luke chooses poorly and takes 300 damage.
Nekoyama tribute summons Odd Eyes Twin-Tail Cat, then summons another set of BEWC and REBC. Then, activates a spell card that has Luke guess what the top card of his deck is (again). If Luke is wrong, Nekoyama’s monsters can direct attack.
Luke is still distracted by his thoughts of not becoming King, and chooses wrong. Nekoyama’s monsters direct attack.
Odd Eyes Twin-Tail Cat's effect, Nyanderful Trap, activates!
Nekoyama returns the trap he just used to his hand and sets two cards.
There are countless possibilities in this world. It seems one of them is about to be revealed, meow. That is, meowr utter defeat! Turn ennya~
Luke is still distracted and extremely depressed. Gakuto picks up on what’s going on, but Luke denies it.
Gakuto: Is the thing you're worrying about the King's Throne?
[...]
Gakuto: Then just listen to what Yuuga-kun has to say!
Luke asks Yuuga if he really will give him the King’s Throne when he becomes the King one day.
Yuuga: Luke is my friend. If a friend asks, then of course!
Luke: Of course?!
Yuuga: No way.
Luke: What?!
Yuuga: But, anyone can become King. Countless possibilities exist, you know. There is a possibility that Luke will become the King!
Luke: I could... become King...?
Luke finally finds his resolves and says he can envision himself becoming King now. He says he’s found his “daor” (road backwards).
It won't be the same as last time! Because right now, I have decided to become King!
Duel proceeds. Luke tribute summons Thrust Dragon Bunker Strike, complete with a new summoning chant mentioning his new “daor”.
Bunker Strike lets him draw cards from his deck based on the amount of monsters his opponent has on his field. Since Nekoyama has 3, Luke draws 3. Then, he can put the same number of cards in his hand back on top of his deck in any order. This lets him choose the correct card for Nekoyama’s trap.
Foolish! I returned my cards to the top of my deck earlier, so the top card is—
The card... uh, the card?
He forgets the order he put them in. The others express disbelief.
Yuuga: That's Luke for you!
He eventually manages to remember and defeats Nekoyama.
Nekoyama kowtows and begs for Neil-sama’s forgiveness, but instead gets shoved down a chute that then closes after him.
Luke is furious at seeing this.
Let the future King come up and beat you already! Duel me!
Neil says it’s too bad, but the duel has been enough for one day, and to come back another time. He transports them to the exit against their will.
Neil: It's already very late. Dueling is all well and good, but go home and do your homework.
The gang expresses some disbelief as to everything that’s happened, but Yuuga reassures them that they will win for sure. He’s happy that Luke found his own “daor”.
Luke points at a twinkling star in the sky and declares it his “daor”, saying that it is the star of the King of Duels.
It then proceeds to fall and Luke jumps out in disbelief.
Aaah, don't fall already!!
[ED plays here]
And previews for the next episode where Roa duels his drummer, Getta.
--------
Hope this helped a little in at least understanding everything that went on! In lieu of raws, this will just have to work for now.
If you wish to support me, go here: https://ko-fi.com/sakaki
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
The weeping stone, a little crossover, the Mummy x Star Wars
Beta-ed by @wrennette, a little fic The Mummy x Star Wars.
Under the cut; the fic:
Our story started a long, long time ago and in a galaxy far away and never really ended. There was just a pause. A long pause. Eons passed.
And then it started again, just like that:
Two men, alone and desperately human, fighting against abominations from the dawn of civilisation. Monsters with a taste for human flesh. One favoured his left side. They made their last stand at the forgotten temple of a forgotten goddess, erased from human memory with great care by Ptolemy III Euergetes, his mages and what would become the Medjai, more than two centuries before the modern era. A forgotten goddess now trying to make a comeback heralded in blood, famine, and other happy events.
Those men should have never left the scene, or only in very, very, very tiny bits.
Sadly for the beasts, that sort of situation had become terrifyingly normal for Jonathan and Ardeth.
Not everybody can have exotic dancers as a bad habit, like most of Jonathan’s Oxford friends.
With a yell like a woodsman putting the last axe wound in a giant tree, Ardeth cut in two the latest giant crocodile with two heads. The left head, apparently not the quickest to apprehend new circumstances, continued to flail a moment. Ardeth watched it carefully, with an air clearly meaning: Try it, if you dare.
Since no one glared like Ardeth, the left head wisely died, instead of incurring his wrath again.
“These things definitely don't conform to the traditional representation,” Jonathan remarked, with the blasé attitude of a man who had become sadly used to giant animals with too many heads, resurrected priests and other fun ways to pass the time in the charming country of Egypt. If he didn’t go bankrupt every time he put a foot on the soil of the Mother country, he would have refused to leave England. There, dead things stayed dead and even if Arthur had risen, Jonathan was sure the lad would have been much more amiable than Imhotep.
Perhaps it was a question of the soil temperature…. Would dead English sovereigns rise if transplanted in Egypt? Or Scottish ones? The Scottish ones seemed more fun.
“Carnahan, stop dreaming and come help,” Ardeth ordered and Jonathan thought of protesting. Harvesting hearts of two-headed magical creatures was gory and smelly. Even if it was to stop a giant wave of drought which would devastate Egypt and probably cause a lot of deaths. But Jonathan had seen enough death during the Great War; deaths he could never forget, no matter what new horrors Evy and her brand new husband Rick, and Ardeth, half friend half pain in the ass in Jonathan’s opinion, discovered every day.
“Life was so much simpler without the supernatural,” Jonathan grumbled, but it was weak and he went to help. The sooner they had the hearts, the quicker they could leave, and supposing Evy and Rick had successfully harvested the brains of their own two-headed monsters, they could stop the drought, leave their third lost temple this year and go back to Jonathan favourite way to pass life: searching for a way to earn money.
Preferably without the dead rising, for once.
They stayed with the Medjai for the night, since it would have been pretty stupid to try returning to the city after dark. The night was beautiful, all stars and an enormous moon and Jonathan was finding himself quite enamoured with life. His sister and her husband disappeared into their tent and he hoped they remembered they were not alone and currently surrounded only by cloth.
The Medjai were extremely pleasant hosts, even Ardeth for all his glaring, and whatever the pastries and strange herbal tea they were distributing were almost making Jonathan not care they didn’t drink alcohol… or that Ardeth took Jonathan’s secret stash at the beginning of their current adventure to prepare a makeshift bomb.
Against a giant Mesopotamian…thing, because evidently the local monsters and undead weren’t enough. Some had apparently been imported too.
Jonathan let himself fall into the nest of covers loaned to him for the night. He was sore, but not too bruised, and the satisfaction of saving people had an edge even a cynic like him couldn’t deny.
“You know, the only thing missing is gallant company. Not that yours isn’t charming, old chap, but nothing beat a scandalously clothed lady. With the bosom, you know,” Jonathan said, gesticulating to illustrate.
Ardeth grunted and didn’t answer.
“But perhaps there is a Mrs. Bey in one of the tents? Or several? Are your people polygamists? Because that’s something I could get behind. Never too much of a good thing, you know, even if I always asked myself how it worked. I mean, some men must go without riches for other to have more? Very capitalistic and –“
“Carnahan, stop babbling. And no, there isn’t a Mrs. Bey, as you say. And if there was, you would be literally the last person in this country I would introduce to her.”
“Rude!”
“Sleep, Jonathan. We leave at dawn and I don’t enjoy having to throw water at you to force you to rise.”
“No need to grumble. Also, you totally enjoy it! And I’m sure you’ll find the perfect Mrs. Bey one day and sweep her off her feet. Very heroically, probably. There will be fireworks, old chap! ”
“Thanks, I suppose. But this isn’t…. My friend, there is-“
A snore interrupted him.
Ardeth turned to the side. Jonathan Carnahan had succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. Ardeth snorted, amused despite himself, and happy his confidences to his grating, but strangely attaching, friend had been stopped just in the nick of time. Some words couldn’t be unsaid. And he liked the Carnahan and O’Connell trio, despite their habit of stumbling exactly where they shouldn’t. He went on his last stroll around the camp, saluting the sentinels, as was his habit before sleep, and didn’t think any more of this conversation. Sadly, the sudden interest of Jonathan about his love life distracted him enough – should he tell him the truth or not, the English could be very strange about that – that he forgot for a moment a bad habit of Jonathan, where he pickpocketed everything shiny like an overgrown Oxford-educated magpie, and didn’t go through his pockets like he ought to after one of their expeditions.
Therefore, Ardeth missed the amulet in Jonathan’s vest, found in the temple of the day. And he missed the crystal, strange, shining, definitely nothing he had seen before, embedded in it.
***************************************
A woman was leaning down over Jonathan. She wore the strangest headdress he had ever seen, with two long tails of bizarre material, blue and white, and it was also crowning her, giving her a royal air, despite the blood running down her face. There was something slightly wrong about her face, like the proportions were slightly different from what they should normally be in a human.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying. “I’m sorry, Master, this is the only way to be sure he doesn’t get you too. Someone will come find you. The Alliance has our coordinates, they will find you.”
An older man stepped up behind her and he was bleeding too, the left part of his face a terrible wound, which had taken one of his eyes. The blood congealed on his beard and he used the wall to stay upright. The still intact eye shined with determination despite the probably terrible pain.
“Ahsoka, there isn’t time left,” he said and something sharp came to mask the despair on the woman’s face.
“I know,” she said. She took something from around her neck and it was the strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan had found. She leaned down and placed it on Jonathan.“Anakin’s crystal,” she said. “May you use it more wisely than him.”
She pushed a metal cover over Jonathan and it seemed so much like the lid of a sarcophagus. Jonathan wanted to yell for help but he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw was the woman turning, two swords of white flame in her hands, then whatever he was lying on went far away. There was an acceleration, like a plane taking off, and Jonathan knew nothing but the cold light of stars.
***************************************
Jonathan woke up shivering, his mouth already open to cry out. Ardeth was on the other side of the campfire, getting it going again for the morning tea.
“First time I've seen you up without help,” Ardeth smiled, but his smile died when he got a better look at the other man’s face.
“Jonathan?”
“Just…just a nightmare.”
Ardeth wisely nodded. Even he, who had been trained all his life to protect humanity from what was laying underneath the sands of Egypt and the neighbouring countries, would sometimes be visited in his dreams by the horrors he was regularly exposed to.
In silence, Ardeth offered his water skin for Jonathan to rinse the bilious taste of nightmares from his mouth.
***************************************
The woman was there again. The one with the strange headdress going down on either side of her head. The headdress was smaller and the tattoos on her face smaller too, like they hadn’t been finished. She was silently watching the cold coffin Jonathan was in, agony on her face.
“Oh Master,” she only said. “If only you were there… Really there. More than ever, I need your help.”
A man entered the room. He had brown skin, brown hair too long for even Cambridge and smart eyes.
“The Ghost is leaving in ten minutes, we can’t afford more.”
“I’m ready, tell Hera I will be on board.” The woman with the headdress said. Jonathan wanted to yell at her to take him with her, that he wanted to help, that it was his responsibility to help, but his mouth was cold and his tongue dead inside it, like a block of ice.
***************************************
“Don’t you think your brother is…you know?” Rick asked one morning and Evelyn’s eyes left the reproduction of a Nekhen tomb painting she was admiring, realized she was about to put marmalade in her tea, took her glasses off and turned to her husband. Rick hadn’t put his shirt on yet, a fact she deeply appreciated.
“There are many answers to that question and some of them are about secrets I swore to take to my tomb when we were teenagers, so I will need you to elaborate, darling.”
“Don’t you think your brother is strange?”
“Did he try to convince you to invest in a bar in Casablanca again?”
“If I was trying to start a business with him, I would be the strange one. No, I mean, don’t you think he’s stranger than usual?”
As one, they turned to the patio of the decrepit house they were renting in Damietta.
It was eight in the morning and Jonathan was up.
That itself was strange.
Not that Jonathan couldn’t, in crisis time, wake early. But when they were still recuperating from their latest adventure, he liked to only get up at what he called “the crack of dawn,” meaning something like thirteen o'clock.
Eight in the morning, and he was awake, seeping tea slowly, and trying the meditation Ardeth had once tried to teach him, before pronouncing him totally inept. That itself was strange. The tears slowly flowing on his cheeks were making it unreal.
Jonathan hadn’t shed a tear since coming back from the trenches of the Great War. What he had lived through there had used up all the tears for one life. After, there was only room for laughter, sometimes slightly hysterical, alcohol, and women of ill repute, with the occasional supernatural menace.
“I think the last mission we accompanied Ardeth on was particularly difficult for him.”
“Nobody died!” Rick protested. “Nobody didn’t even almost died!”
“Dear God, we’re setting the bar quite low those last months….”
Rick turned again to Jonathan. At the beginning of his marriage to Evy, he had seen Jonathan more as an unfortunate consequence of Evelyn, someone to endure, until they had bonded with their experiences from the war. Some things they had shared with each other, they hadn’t even told Evy, the most important person in both their lives.
“I’m taking him for a drink tonight with my old buddies from the Legion,” Rick decided. “Mano a mano.”
“That really doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Evelyn smiled and Rick couldn’t resist that smile, never had, and he swallowed an impromptu Latin lesson with a tender kiss, which lead to other things, and Evelyn quite late in her morning program for the study of the Nekhen tomb paintings.
***************************************************
There was a demon, more frightening than Imhotep himself. It was black, prowling in the shadows around Jonathan. The only thing Jonathan could perceive of it, a noise like lethal gas escaping its canister. The thing, the monster, the nightmare, carried a sword made of blood and at its feet lay the bodies of everyone Jonathan had ever loved.
Lost.
All of them were lost, because Jonathan had not been enough.
The despair should have a taste but Jonathan hadn’t tasted anything in years. There was just the cold, the after taste; spicy, of the last thing he had tasted, long ago, months ago, years ago, centuries ago, before laying down in his tomb, silent, vigilant witness of the end of everything and the rise of darkness.
****************************************************
Rick and Evelyn were waiting for him when he got back from his nightly walk. He had exchanged his usual nightly shenanigans in bars for slow walks across the landscape. By day, the sounds of so many people had become a torture and even at night, it was like Jonathan could feel them pressing around him. Only in the empty surroundings of Damietta could he find peace now, following the stars, which always seemed wrong to him, like they were in an incorrect configuration.
“Evy?” Jonathan asked, surprised, because they were always in bed when he came back.
“This is an intervention,” his sister said.
“Oh come on. I swear to you, I haven’t started using again. I know the effect of Forced Marche on me, I wouldn’t…"
“I know, darling,” Evy said with warmth, taking his hand in a gesture of comfort. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me, or to yourself again. But, you have been…you haven’t been yourself, those last weeks. At first, I confess I thought you were, how do I say it-“
“Hitting the bottle pretty hard,” Rick completed with no tact at all.
“But I remembered when you started to change and I called a specialist.”
There was a movement behind Jonathan and he turned and Ardeth was there, his face harder than Jonathan had seen in a long time. And in his hand, cradled like the simple contact was dangerous, was the amulet with the crystal Jonathan had found weeks ago, abandoned on the red sandstone altar in a temple of a forgotten goddess in Latopolis.
“That’s mine,” Jonathan yelled immediately, his hands raising to seize the jewel, but Rick’s arms were around his shoulders, as hard as steel.
“I failed you, my friend,” Ardeth said gravely.
“Ardeth, that’s mine!” Jonathan said again, already suffocating on tears, “That’s the only thing I have left!”
Another Medjai was there, one Jonathan didn’t know, and a foul-smelling cloth was across Jonathan's mouth, and he struggled, but Rick was stronger, and Ardeth was there too, helping Rick contain his thrashing, and the last thing he heard was Evelyn crying.
Beyond his eyelids, for a second, he would have sworn Evelyn’s silhouette was different, her belly round as the sun, and shining too, shining like a newborn star, but it made no sense and he lost himself to the dark of drugged sleep.
********************************************************
The woman was there again. There was a man with her, blond hair, brown skin, a hand on her shoulder, comforting her as she put her two hands on the lid of Jonathan’s sarcophagus. Behind them, there was a man with darker skin and a dash of yellow across his nose and even if Jonathan had never seen him in his life, he wanted to beg him to take care of her, of her and the first man, the blond one, because if Jonathan himself couldn’t, this man with the yellow markings was almost him, brother, support, friend.
********************************************************
Jonathan woke up in a tent. Someone had tied his ankles together, not tight enough to stop him from walking, but tight enough to stop him from running. Ardeth was there, offering him a cup of tea, and even if Jonathan wanted to throw it to his face, his throat was parched. He accepted it.
“Was it poisoned?” Jonathan asked, voice hard with anger, once he had drunk everything.
“No, it wasn’t, and this is perhaps a question you should ask before accepting a drink.”
“Well, not like I can stop you, as the last hours demonstrated!”
“I understand you’re angry.”
“Well, you’re so brilliant to decipher emotion, if Medjai doesn’t work, perhaps you could become a disciple of Mister Freud.”
“We’re here to help you.”
“You have a strange way to show it,” Jonathan pointed out.
At that moment, the flap of the tent opened. Jonathan’s heart jumped in his chest. It was Evelyn and Rick and the sense of betrayal went higher. Ardeth was a friend, a good one, yes, but still only a friend. Rick and Evy were family. Family wasn’t supposed to betray each other.
Ages old grief rose. Older than Jonathan, older than twice cursed Imothep, older than every temple in Egypt, and he choked on the wave of anguish. The infinite sadness was the only thing in his soul and it went higher, plugging his lungs, crushing his heart. On his cheeks tears started to flow again and he would have died of this pain, it was impossible to survive such sorrow.
Hands found his own. Darker hands with tattoos. Ardeth’s hands, scarred and dependable, hands which had saved Jonathan’s life countless times.
A head was against his. Dark hair, the same as his, and their mother perfume, and the embrace of blood, a link he only had with Evey now, their English family dead and buried, but Evy, Evy was there, his beloved sister, and they had survived so much together, from their parents’ loss to the countless disappointments of life.
Strong arms around his shoulder, his waist and the scent of that awful cologne. Rick. Rick, who made Evy happy, Rick who had seen the trenches too, Rick, the brother their parents didn’t have the time to give him.
Jonathan crashed into his body and into reality with all the grace of a drunk camel trying to run across a dune.
“What’s wrong with me!” He yelled, quite strongly, into poor Rick’s ears.
There was some fussing, a fortifying potion poured by Rick into Jonathan’s tea, despite Ardeth’s opinion that alcohol really wouldn’t help Jonathan, then they congregated around the fire with stew and explanations. Jonathan was famished. It was like he had survived only on tea and slow walks across the Egyptian landscapes for days.
“It was a very long time ago,” Ardeth explained. “During the Thinite Confederacy, before even the First Dynasty. One day a great fire fell from the sky into the desert. The tribes which formed the Confederacy sent an expedition to follow the trail of the fire and they found a great stone at the centre of a dune entirely crystallized, like an intense fire would have done. They brought back the stone to the city. Little by little, the members of the expedition who found it began to have visions. They could predict other tribes attack, they could sometimes know where a venomous snake was waiting in a bush, they knew where to go for good game in the hunts…”
“Seems like a pretty friendly stone,” Rick commented. “Very useful stuff.”
“But their new talents had a price,” Ardeth continued, like Rick hadn’t interrupted him. “The ones with the most talent, the ones who could sometimes heal wounds or ease a birth for example, were the most touched. They wept during feasts, they yelled into the night, they were taken apart by-“
“Sadness,” Jonathan said. “Infinite sadness.”
Ardeth nodded. Evelyn’s hand found her brother’s own hand and pressed on it.
“Most of them took their own life, at the end. A temple was built, coming from a vision one of the men touched by the stone had and the stone placed in the sanctuary. Once a year, young people were send to it to earn its wisdom.”
“That’s…that’s quite cold,” Evely shivered, “They were sacrificed. Fated to kill themselves or go crazy.”
“Yes, they were. Officially, they were designed by the oracles, but of course, most were chosen as a way for the most powerful to strike down their enemies.”
“Charming.”
“Some of them survived. They endured and went to become great souls, leading their people, or taking the places of advisors of the proto-kings. They said Menes, the founder of the first dynasty was one of them, that used what he learned from the stone to unify Egypt. They also said that the stone stopped talking to him because of the bloodshed, and that is why he was killed by a hippopotamus, because he had gotten too close to the beast, confident in a gift which had been taken back. They also said that Menes was the only one ever succeeding in opening the stone, and that he never said what was inside. Simply brought back that strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan stole.”
“Liberated, thank you very much,” Jonathan interrupted.
“All of this is fascinating,” Evelyn admitted. “But if we need the stone to help Jonathan…” Her brother was quite touched. For Evy, Evy! To interrupt Egyptian story time like that….
Ardeth nodded again.
“Yes, we need the stone and, praise Allah, I know where it is. The temple is in Thinis. Some said the weeping stone contributed to the abandonment of the city for Memphis as a capital.”
“Then we have a problem,” Evelyn realized. “Nobody has ever found Thinis.”
“The English haven’t,” Ardeth said with half a smirk and Evelyn made the same noise Rick made when he found a scorpion in their bathroom.
“We had this conversation before,” Rick immediately intervened, before Evelyn lost herself in an archaeological rant. “Ardeth certainly doesn’t have to tell you everything his people know and keep from the scientists.”
He kissed her pout. Knowledge was Evelyn’s grail and she could become a little insensitive to indigenous peoples' reasons for keeping secrets in her quest., Nobody was perfect, neither she or he or Ardeth, and their friendship could endure some friction.
**********************************************************
The woman had come back again. On Jonathan's coffin, she placed a strange helmet, white and half burned…
“Cody,” she said, then a long silence and she added: “He was himself at the end. He called for you.” And, in his coffin, Jonathan’s heart wept, like another wound had been added to his burden.
**********************************************************
Jonathan woke up kneeling, his face close, too close to the dying embers of the campfire. Ardeth hands, steel strong, the only things stopping him from burning himself.
A grief too big to bear pulsed in his heart, something so immense he couldn’t swallow it. He turned to Ardeth and saw in his friend’s eyes compassion and support. He didn’t deserve that man’s friendship. Friends could be taken so quickly, died in a flourish of a blade, Jonathan should….No, no, those thoughts weren’t his. Ardeth was a dear friend, yes, but he was in no danger of any blade.
It was such a freezing thought to realize the inside of his own brain weren’t exactly his own anymore.
“How far away is this city again?” Jonathan asked.
***********************************************************
Later, when Jonathan, pale and with too deep shadow beneath his eyes, had been put to sleep by a few drops of a potion made by one the Medjai specialist, Ardeth, Rick and Evelyn divided the hours of day and night between the three of them.
Jonathan couldn’t be left alone.
They left the camp at dawn, escorted by ten of Ardeth’s men. Jonathan was trying very hard to put his persona on, like a mask, and Rick was keeping him company at the moment, so Evelyn guided her camel next to Ardeth.
“Are you here to grill me about Thinis' secrets?” Ardeth asked and she made a face.
“I’m sorry,” Evey admitted. “Sometimes I lose myself in my desire for knowledge and I act harshly. I wouldn’t want you to think your friendship is only a means to me.”
“I know the truth of your heart, Evelyn O’Connell,” the Medjai simply said. “You are a good person, if not a very patient one. Which is a surprise for a woman capable of speaking ten dead languages.”
“Only nine,” Evey corrected and everything in her tone confessed she found it a terrible shortfall on her part.
He smiled and didn’t admit to her he spoke more. Instead, he told her old tales of the lost city of Thinis, stories of the beginning of Egypt, when the Medjai were simply one tribe of several, before the rise of the united country, before the Pharaohs. Evelyn listened, eyes shining. In return, she recited the Culhwch and Olwen to him, translating on the fly from middle Welsh to English and Ardeth was in turn fascinated.
“When Jonathan is healed,” Ardeth said, refusing to entertain the idea that his friend could die. “I think I would like to see your country.”
“I would like to be your guide,” Evelyn answered, “and to guide you to its secrets. Even if we are sadly lacking in lost magic cities.”
“Perhaps we will find them together,” Ardeth said. “Perhaps there are Medjai in your country, keeping its secrets, like my brothers and myself are keeping the secrets of Egypt.”
***************************************************************
There was a child. A small, strange child, with green skin and a bizarre headdress. She was a girl, and young, so young, and Jonathan knew that one day, she would have been his to teach. He had always known and she had too, and sometimes, when he could, he had visited her and the other children, happy to see her grow safe and happy, like every child should.
But a shadow entered the room. A shadow with a cowl obscuring its face, but Jonathan knew. He knew that shadow had been his child too and if his lips were sealed by cold and death, his heart yelled and cried and raged, as the shadow cut in two the one who should have been his sister.
***************************************************************
Thinis slept under the sand but the Medjai knew a way. They always knew a way, custodians of so many secrets. Ardeth guided their small expedition and they started to dig, taking turns, to excavate the entry to the lost city.
“How long since you last dug it out?” Rick grumbled, as he was on the team excavating the sand. “It seems that door hasn’t seen the light of the sun since it was built, with all this freaking sand on it.”
“We haven’t come back since the sixteenth century,” Ardeth explained. “The amulet was stolen from a group of Medjai at that time, and we tracked the buyer, and tried to save his son who had touched the crystal.”
“And did it work?”
Ardet’s grimace told everything of the answer.
“Perfect, just perfect,” Rick growled and he started to work even harder.
Once the path to the door was cleared out, Ardeth left half his men outside on guard with Evelyn and Rick, and entered the city with Jonathan and the rest of the Medjai. Evelyn had protested, and Rick too, and it was Jonathan’s own voice that finally had convinced them. How could he fight the despair in his soul, if he was afraid for his family?
“You’re going with Ardeth!” Evelyn had protested and the Medjai had been touched by this casual inclusion in their family.
“Sometimes attachment isn’t enough,” Ardeth had told the young woman. “We have been trained since childhood for this. We won’t fail your brother. We won’t fail our friend in his time of need.”
The Medjai had been trained for this. To protect the world from everything that slept under the sand. To stand guard, silent, vigilant, between the people of Egypt and the different horrors the past had left. Ardeth thought about that as they progressed. It was his duty and also his honour, but even he found the slow walk into the city buried under the sand difficult.
Not physically.
Here, there weren't any of the traps or undead abominations which had marked his first adventure with Rick and company, when together they had stopped Imothep.
No, the difficulty was in all their hearts and it didn’t come from their own feelings. It was a song of despair, of infinite sadness, a grief which tore them apart and still asked for more. But where men of the past had succumbed, the Medjai didn’t. Perhaps the only ones who wouldn’t.
Duty. A life offered to duty. The desire to protect, even the people who didn’t understand them, who would have spit on their way of life. That was the Medjai way. And whatever was waiting for them in the heart of the city understood that, perhaps more than anything else in the world.
Perhaps even more than infinite sadness.
Duty, even in the time of grief.
For this, the warriors and Jonathan arrived alive at the ruined temple. Gritting their teeth against despair, but alive, if slightly dusty. Ardeth left his men there and guided Jonathan further in. The Englishman couldn’t walk anymore, despite courageous effort. Ardeth, a hand around his waist, dragged him into the sanctuary, and almost let go of him the moment they entered. In the light of the torch, the stone glittered in a way no stone should.
Slowly, Ardeth helped Jonathan to the base of the steps. When Jonathan was sitting down, he went closer to examine the stone. It was no stone, something his ancestors hadn’t included in their reports, perhaps for fear to seem insane.
Ardeth touched it.
It was metal, he was certain of it. A metal he couldn’t identify, but a metal. And there, at the base of it there was….
There was something deformed by heat, by time, by the shock of a crash in the desert centuries ago, but that a modern Medjai could identify where pre-pharaonic and fifteen centuries Medjai couldn’t.
Some sort of handle.
Some sort of door handle….
Ardeth, in a moment of dumb courage his Medjai teachers would have walloped his behind for, turned the handle. It was stuck, but with a bit of effort…
A hiss, stale air, and it opened.
On the stone floor, Jonathan had passed out.
Ardeth looked inside the stone which wasn’t a stone.
There was…there was some strange statue. A man. Certainly not Egyptian, but no people he could identify. Simply a man, very realistic, but only three-quarters of him could be seen, the rest lost in the mass of stone, or metal, behind him, like the sculptor had been interrupted. On the side, there was some metal contraption with lights, all red, and blinking like crazy. And one by one, they were going out.
Ardeth had half decided to throw Jonathan across his shoulders and start running, because he didn’t want to be there when the last one went out, when suddenly all of them failed and went dark.
There was a light, a noise, liquid falling on the floor, and a man stepped out of the statue, into Ardeth’s arms.
“Ahsoka,” he said, opening eyes as blue as the sky in the desert, and then he passed out. At the same time, a fog of grey lifted from Ardeth’s heart and he understood that whatever spell had come from the stone, the…thing, it was forever a thing of the past.
To say the Medjai, Rick and Evy were surprised to see half their team coming back with an extra member was an understatement. Their usual was more: 'sudden monster trying to eat their heart and liver,' not: 'mysterious human with red hair stepping out of a statue.' Nevertheless, camp was established, and Jonathan was examined from head to toe, then the man.
“He looks…normal,” was the very helpful diagnostic.
And he did. Only one head, blue eyes, red hair, red beard.
“He would seem more at his place in England, if not for the strange armour,” Evelyn commented, and then forget a little about their guest, because Jonathan had woken up. A little hungover, exhausted, but definitely himself.
And the stranger slept. Days after days. As they stayed in camp the time necessary to let Evelyn visit the ruins, which was both the sweetest gift the Medjai could give her, and the cruellest. The sweetest, because her soul thirsting for knowledge saw and learned things no archaeologist had ever dreamed off. The cruellest, because she could never talk about it, or publish about it, or even use the knowledge gained. Then they hid the entry of the city again and departed.
Every day, the sleeping stranger was tied up to Ardeth on his camel. Every night, they moistened cloths in milk and water, pressing them between his lips to nourish him. Every day, the stranger’s skin lost a little of his pallor as his health seemed to get better.
Jonathan helped the Medjai care for the man with a patience he hadn’t demonstrated in years. He felt a strange kinship with this stranger who had almost caused his death. How could he blame him when he remembered the depth of his sadness?
Sometimes, late in the night, when the memory of his pain was too much on his heart, he searched for Ardeth. He didn’t remember exactly what had happened in the temple, but he knew the warrior had saved his life and his sanity and he remembered his arms around his shoulders, his silent protection. Late in the nights, they talked.
They talked about Medjai training and Oxford. They talked about what they had seen of the world. They talked about their family, Ardeth’s grandfather and uncle who had led the Medjai before him and his father whom he hadn’t known, killed in battle before his birth.They talked about Jonathan and Evelyn’s parents and how their English family had never quite accepted this union and the children resulting…
One night, Ardeth even talked about why there never would be a Mrs. Ardeth Bey, something no person outside the Medjai had ever known, and Jonathan had thanked him for his trust and admitted some youthful indiscretions, in the terms used by his Oxford peers. This night, there was no more talking but every night they sat a little closer and neither the Medjai or the O'Connell interrupted their time together, happy to see the slow progress of their dance, the seed of happiness.
************************************************************
Obi-Wan woke up.
It was the strangest thing. It felt alien, unreal. Things were definitely quite jumbled upstairs, his brain as scrambled as if he had spent a weeklong bender with what the clones pretended was alcohol, but he knew it had been longer than that, far too long. He knew he had spent more time in carbonite thant he was supposed to for their infiltration of the Citadel. Images were rushing around in his mind, and pain and anger and grief and Padme yelling and Ahsoka, tall and proud, everything a Jedi should be, and Rex’s blood on the floor and Anakin’s eyes a sickly yellow and nothing, nothing made sense.
Obi-Wan called to the Force and pushed himself into healing with the rest of his strength.
He passed out.
The next time he woke up, he could perceive people around him.
Strangers, not Force sensitive, but…friendly? Or at least, not unfriendly. But his body was still terribly weak and again, Obi-Wan called to the Force.
The third time waking was the good one.
Around him, Obi-Wan knew it was night, all souls at rest save one, at his side, and others further away. Guards, probably.
Carefully, he pushed a little in the Force and perceived no other Force Sensitive around, so he latched onto the closest person and slowly, very slowly, tipped them into sleep.
Only then did Obi-Wan open his eyes.
A stranger, dressed for the desert. Human, or humanoid…no, human.
Obi-Wan carefully stood up. Even with the healing, his steps were hesitant. How long….
He stepped out of the tent, silent as only a Jedi could be. Someone had taken his armour, and changed his clothes. He was dressed in blue like the stranger he had sent to sleep. He needed to find his armour and where he was.
But first, and most importantly, his lightsaber. He concentrated, searched into the Force, encountered a sleeping man next to the embers of a dying fire and stopped.
In the Force, not only could he perceive his own kyber crystal in his lightsaber, in another tent, but also Anakin’s lightsaber. Anakin wasn’t there, of that he was sure, the sun of his power would be impossible to miss.
Obi-Wan found his lightsaber easily and his brother’s kyber, not in Anakin lightsaber but in a strange necklace. With a shrug, he put the necklace around his neck. Evading the place where he could feel the guards, Obi-Wan stepped out of the camp.
He had only trekked two dunes when he felt Ahsoka. Strange, more powerful Ahsoka, but definitely Ahsoka. He had already understood time had passed, so when he broke into a run, he thought he would find his Grand Padawan all grown up, regal and powerful, a Knight of her own. Perhaps already a Master!
When he saw her, it was a shock.
Blue and transparent and shining, waiting for him across the dunes, compassion written on all her being.
Obi-Wan had always known he was fated for infinite sadness and he understood the time he had waited for all his life had come for him.
***************************************************************
Ardeth was the one who found him.
It had been easy to track his steps across the sand, once he had found his cousin asleep next to the covers of their strange guest, instead of standing guard.
The man was kneeling in the sand and crying. Ardeth, who already had his knife out against what he was sure was a trap, hesitated.
The man looked up and, like in the sanctuary, the Medjai took the blue of his eyes like a shock. He saw the man shoulder his pain and shake himself, with the fortitude of one who had borne too much burden too often. Then the man stood up and touched his chest.
“Obi-Wan,” he said.
“Ardeth,” the Medjai answered and Obi-Wan bowed politely.
Ardeth designated the direction they had come from, like a question, and Obi-Wan obediently started the trip back. Side by side, they walked, Obi-Wan lost in his thought, and the Medjai observing him.
It had been this man’s pain that had resonated from inside the stone.
What sort of grief could be so terrible….One day, perhaps he would know.
For now, tea and food, for the stranger and for their expedition.
They had time.
As they were approaching the first tent, Obi-Wan turned a last time and saw Ahsoka. She bowed and disappeared, probably going back to the Force, or to the New Republic, which Anakin’s children had made happen, and then his grandchildren, great grandchildren, countless generations while Obi-Wan had been prisoner in the carbonite, the module damaged, stopping him from waking up.
Across the stars, far, far away, there were still Jedi, but what could he do, for people who thought his name was an old legend? People who weren’t even sure Anakin’s Fall and the End of the First Republic hadn’t been a legend for children, with how long ago it was?
Obi-Wan, resolutely, turned to the camp. He knew the world. Whatever the strange planet he had winded up, he was pretty sure there were people to help and things to learn. Starting with their language!
A man whom Obi-Wan had never seen but who was definitely strangely familiar, like Obi-Wan knew the shape of his soul, was running to them and he threw his arms around Ardeth, before babbling something the Jedi couldn’t understand, going beet red. Ardeth answered something, his tone firm, and put an arm around the other man’s waist in return, not letting him turn away. The other man went ever more red.
Obi-Wan smiled. Yes, people were people, whatever the species or the era.
The other man turned to Obi-Wan and again the Jedi had this strange impression of a resonance in the Force. The man wasn’t Force Sensitive, of that Obi-Wan was sure, but he almost could have been tipped in this direction, with just a small nudge from fate. What stayed was a strange connection, when their eyes met.
The man bowed in a fluid movement, ceremonial and old, which was pure Jedi, like he had learned from Obi-Wan himself better than Anakin ever learned it, not interested as he was in protocol, or even in being polite.
“Jonathan,” he said and Obi-Wan gave a bow in answer and said :
“Obi-Wan,” and the man smiled and said something he didn’t understand but which, Obi-Wan would have bet his lightsaber, meant some variations of ‘I know’.
At the side of the two men, the Jedi entered the camp and stepped into his new life.
#star war#the mummy returns#ardeth bay#jonathan carnahan#obi wan kenobi#the clone wars#crossover#my fics
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
u KNOW eddie sees went and mags as parental figures. some days he’ll come home w richie and they’ll be like “hi eds, we’re having roast chicken for dinner so feel free to stay but make sure your homework is done or no TV afterwards” and he almost cries
ohhhHHHH BABIE boy. U know he notices how casually and happily they welcome him in their house, where his own mother is always hovering like a disapproving vulture when he brings his friends over. How nobody at the Toziers’ even mentions allergies when making dinner, and everything tastes good, even the stuff full of herbs and spices his mom never uses, just in case.
How nobody but Richie and Maggie and Went call him Eds, and that, Eddie realises with a funny flip in his stomach, means that Richie must talk about him to his parents. And he can’t POSSIBLY snap “don’t call me that!” to Mr and Mrs T. so he just has to blush all through dinner and acknowledge internally how nice it makes him feel to have a special nickname, how included and close. It’s like they’re his family, too. If he and Richie stayed friends forever then maybe they would be like his family? Like, if Richie got really famous and had his own show like Jay Leno and bought a big house, they could all live there together, with the Losers too. It’d be like sleepovers every night, Eddie wouldn’t mind sleeping on the bottom bunk bed as a grownup if Richie was there, dangling upside-down over the edge until his face goes red and Eddie’s goes redder from laughing.
Richie helps him with the really tricky math problems and they finish quicker than Eddie ever manages alone, and that’s even with Richie getting distracted by catapulting erasers across the room off the desk with a ruler, slapping his belly and singing sometiiiimes i feeel i’ve got to [slap slap] square the root, i’ve got to, solve for x and help my Eddie paaaaassssss
They actually finish quicker than Eddie might like because he loves it when Richie changes and jitters through songs all the time like he’s got a little DJ chopping and screwing inside his throat, and especially when he jams Eddie’s name into them. It feels like being friends with Max Headroom. But they finish and play leg wrestling and watch Star Trek reruns in the den for so long that it’s dark outside when Went knocks and says it’s bedtime.
Eddie’s throat seizes up around his mouthful of Oreos because jeeze, he was supposed to be home hours ago, he’s screwed, but before he’s even coughed out his first panicked mouthful of black mush, Richie is rubbing his back hard in the right place with the heel of his hand, the place Eddie told him about months ago that helps your lungs, and it soothes something right through his back and out through his chest. Like drinking hot cocoa. He breathes out, and swallows his mush. Richie squawks along as Dingo Dan, yah beauty, neahly cawt ahselves a real rippah of a shahkthmarattack - get it, Eds? shark asthma attack? - luckily Dingo Dan, hero of the bush, was heah to save the day! It makes Eddie laugh and topple him over, and Richie is pretending to take big Crocodile Dundee bites out of Eddie’s screeching side when Maggie comes in to say she phoned Eddie’s mom earlier, because it’s a Friday and you boys seemed like you were having so much fun.
Eddie loves his Ma, but in his house it’s just the two of them. It’s too easy to be sucked into her gravitational pull, and forget there’s a whole big universe of different people who love him and who he can love in return. And if he climbs up into the top bunk in the middle of the night, it’s just so Richie won’t have to whisper so fucking loud, and they can keep talking undetected and under covers until the sun comes up
132 notes
·
View notes
Text
Buried History
Here is a little drabble i wrote in ten minutes, unbeta-ed:
Korra was sitting in the meditation room as she attempted to connect with her past lives. The first she had connected to was not the one she’d expected; but she was glad to have contacted the air nomad.
“Hello, young Avatar?”
“Yangchen, how did you bypass the more recent avatars?”
“You reached out to a female, was I not who you expected?”
“Honestly, no. I didn’t realize I was calling specifically to a female. But I do have some troubles.”
“What troubles you?” Yangchen asked softly.
“My mate is pregnant, but I don’t know how to be a sire; especially with everything going on in the world right now. Do you have any wisdom to spare?”
“I am afraid I do not. By the time I sired my pups, the world was at peace. Perhaps you should ask Kyoshi?”
“Kyoshi?” Korra said confused. She had never heard of Kyoshi having any direct descendants, let alone a mate.
“It’s unsurprising that you didn’t know about her.” Yangchen said with a sigh. “Most of Kyoshi’s life was erased from history. In her time, the world wasn’t as forgiving as it is now.”
Kyoshi sired pups? Korra thought, a moot action considering the entire conversation was going on in her head.
“I did, ten of them.” Kyoshi said appearing next to Yangchen, to Korra’s shock. “But only nine lived to adulthood. My fourth, a twin, died six days after birth.”
“Wow ten? I don’t even think I can handle one right now.” Korra gave a humorless laugh.
“I lived a very long time, Korra. I had a beautiful mate and ten pups. Despite being the longest living Avatar and keeping the peace for so long; the world insists on erasing my history and everyone in it, including my children.”
“How did you do it?”
“I had the strongest person I've ever known by my side, my omega.” Kyoshi gave a small smile, “Rangi.”
“Tell me about her?”
“First off, she was my bodyguard.”
“An omega as your bodyguard?”
“Omegas are very strong people. Stronger than alphas even.”
“Oh I know, have you met Aang’s daughter, Kya or his granddaughter Ikki? Or my mate? Hell, even Suyin and her daughter. Or my mother? All of the omegas in my life are the strongest people I've ever met.”
“We’ve met all of the people you have met. We are a part of you, after all.” Yangchen said with a chuckle. “Everyone thinks the Avatar is the strongest person in the world, but that is not true. It is the Avatar’s mate. Having the constant reminder that their mate could die saving the world and still stand by our side; that is the strongest feat of them all.”
Kyoshi proceeded to tell Korra of her life with Rangi; of all of their adventures and even they’re life after the peace was restored, everything they went through.
“Kyoshi, you should’ve written a book.”
“Why don’t you do it for me? You could technically call it an autobiography, or a memoir. I am your past life.”
“That’s a great idea. I’m going to do that. Your story deserves to be told.” Korra said looking at the often-forgotten avatar, “Thank you both for your wisdom.”
Korra stood as she came out of her meditation, leaving the room to find her mate.
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unbeta-ed rant about Scarlett St. Claire’s Hades and Persephone’s series.
(spoilers will not be hidden; those who haven’t read the books, read at your own risk)
This is sort of short rant...I hope. So I have been honestly hyped from various forms of media; tumblr, Pinterest, etc. about “a Touch of Malice” by Scarlett St. Claire. It’s Hades and Persephone, everyone’s favourite myth (second favourite for myself~) and how could any contemporary myth loving nerd doesn’t want to read it, right?
I’ve never read ‘a Touch of Darkness” or “a Touch of Darkness” until today, but I have just went through the first book, three-quarter way finished with the second book and I just have to...I just have to stop there. At that scene where Hades up and asks Persephone to marry him after a trip to the Iniquity.
I just...cannot. I cannot anymore. I can’t do this.
The...portrayal of Hades and Persephone’s relationship is...astounding to put kindly. I...What freakin’ development has there been in the first two books? I CANNOT PUT UP WITH THE UTTER BS THAT I AM SUPPOSE TO BELIEVE THAT THESE TWO ARE HAVING AN ENVIABLY HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP.
Okay, I hope nobody disses me about ‘if I dislike it so much stop reading’ but I am probably going to finish reading to see how it ends because I must. I need this book to introspect here. On Hades, On Persephone. On everything that is horribly frighteningly wrong about this novel and it’s portrayal of love.
There’s no love here at all, and it makes my heart break. I feel frustrated for Persephone at every turn because at no point does she get control or form of footing with Hades, and it hurts. It’s like I’m baited to believe that she actually could be his equal but the writing *weeps* I’m despairing at the writing! Hades ruined to become an insatiable sex god, and Persephone unable to have any sense of agency when it comes to him. Hades caging and grooming and just basically manipulating Persephone at every turn and it isn’t beautiful at all. It doesn’t make my heart flutter or make me cheer for them-- instead it only just makes me want to cry because please stop, stop doing this. Stop! STOP!
Persephone’s drowning in him *cries* She isn’t finding herself, but learning to normalise Hades’s controlling behaviors, his stalking, his possessiveness, and that isn’t healthy. Persephone isn’t able to control whenever Hades comes to see her, Persephone isn’t able to ever have any privacy of her own-- basically going to Iniquity knowing full well that it is inevitable that Hades would find out. Persephone isn’t told of anything, consulted or even acknowledged whenever it comes to big decisions--for example the threats made by Apollo, Hades solved her problems, because he “cared” for her. He “loved” her.
THAT IS TOTAL CRAP. That isn’t love. That’s possession. That’s erasing any agency and independent thought from your partner and making them accept only your decision as the best solution. ThAT’S USING SEX TO SUBDUE & MISDIRECT THE CONVERSATION, PREVENTING ANY COMMUNICATION AND SWEEPING IT UNDER ARUG BECAUSE WOHOO, nobody could resist carnality can they? Nobody can keep it long enough in their pants to even use they freakin’ brains and work this out like a pair of intelligent people.
This rendition of Persephone is disheartening. This portrayal of Hades is just devastatingly disappointing. Where’s the substance the relationship? Where is the heart and brain without the arousal and attraction? The narrative is so flat...
I’m sorry but Scarlett St Claire’s portrayal of Persephone isn’t the defender of the people that I was hoping to see. Neither was Hades able to measure up in my eyes.
This isn’t a hate letter by the way but I’m just...disappointed. I felt betrayed as a myth enthusiast-- and even as a contemporary myth enthusiast. It’s just...toxic.
And if anyone wants my point of comparison-- because I suck at being just as eloquent as those who could write analysis and beautifully agreeable opinions that doesn’t offend anyone (sorry for offence by the way), I’d recommend those who read this (I doubt that anyone would but for few precious souls), to give this AO3 author’s take on Persephone a read.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22023145
Artemysia93 (the author) way of building the relationship between Hades and Persephone and even Demeter, is simply, wholesome. It’s an ideal. And I just wish to have seen a similar in-depth perspective when I had read Scarlett St. Clarie’s novels.
I’ll close this on the note that ‘a Touch of Darkness’ and ‘a Touch of Ruin’ just... propagates very toxic forms on what a healthy relationship should look like, the kind of things that I’ve seen most YA/Adult authors have been trying to learn to get past and rectify it. The male lead is a laughable caricature of what a man or partner should act like, and the female lead fails to prove that she is any better than the hopeless portrayal society has on women. In the end, they aren’t made to be equals. The disparity is there, and it hurts to see it.
#hades#persephone#hades and persephone#scarlettstc#a touch of darkness#a touch of ruin#ranting#needed to vent#unequal relationship#toxic relationship#i'll probably get much hate for this#but it has to be said#someone please review this book better#i'm not good at talking#sorry if I offended anyone
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
#295 Magical Vehicles
.As we’ve mentioned (and, as we’d imagine, is intuitive) superheroes need to be able to get around. Most crimes will not take place near your hideout and most crimes will not occur near one another. So you need to be able to zip zap zop your way around town. And you’ve gotta do it with style. And while your average tricked-out super-mobile or shape-changing robot are nice and all, they’re not without their problems. Cost for one, car (and planes and trains and all-terrains) are already expensive enough, and that’s without all of the ejector seats and oil slicks and hat-based modifications that superheroes tend to make to them. Plus, if you become famous for your reliance on fancy doodad vehicles, supervillains are just going to start investing in emps to take them out of the game. So some superheroes decide to eschew all of the faults and pitfalls of motorized machines and instead choose to rely on something a little more dependable: magic vehicles.
Let’s take a moment to go through some of the more classic magical vehicles that you might encounter or use as a superhero.
Magic Carpets
Magic carpets can be great superhero vehicles! They already have everything you love about cars: room for passengers (or prisoners), cupholders, the letters C, A, and R. Plus so much more! They’ve got cooler designs, painstakingly sewn by only the finest warlocks. Who was your car sewn by? Joe Mechanic (no respect Mr. Mechanic, we appreciate all the work you do, please don’t send your crack squad of killer androids after us). Plus, magic carpets can fly, you’ll be able to soar majestically through the air like all those other superheroes who can actually fly and who have been laughing at you behind your back for years. If you use a magic carpet you may finally be respected by your superhero peers! It’s gonna be a whole new world for you! Plus, the superhero school in Albany actually has a new driver’s ed course specifically to help young heroes get their magic carpet licenses. I know what you’re probably thinking, magic carpets are wholly exposed on every and all sides, so how would anybody riding them be protected from say, surface to air missiles... or birds. Well, luckily, flight isn’t the only magical abilities these carpets have. Magic carpets are also equipped with magical forcefields that can protect you from anything from insects to intercontinental ballistic missiles. Can your deerstalker-shaped biplane do that?
Magic Brooms
Magical brooms are the fastest magical vehicle out there. In just seconds you can zip off to parts unknown, sweep the floor with your enemies, and tidy up your kitchen. Unfortunately, speed is really the only thing these guys have going for them. They’re not particularly comfortable, they look stupid, and somehow they’ve always got crumbs or pieces of lint in them, and that’s going to attract birds and the last thing you want is to attract birds when you’re trespassing in their god-given domain. Another minor quiddity of magic brooms is that they’re often associated with witches, so if you roll up to a superhero fight on one you might get mistaken for an evil witch. It’s an unfair stereotype, but you’re not going to have time to educate people about the moral diversity of witches when there’s a crisis afoot!
Ghost Ships
71% of the world is water, and 71% of that water is filled with ghost ships. Ghost ships are ships that are either crewed entirely by ghosts, or actually possessed by ghosts themselves. Many superheroes overlook ghost ships when shopping for vehicles and honestly we think that’s a mistake. Ghost ships can add a level of spookiness to your crime fighting. Criminals are easily spooked, and I guarantee you that sailing a haunted boat towards them is enough to put a stop to most crimes. Plus, ghost ships aren’t confined to the sea like regular ships are. Most of them can fly, and even the ones that can’t can become intangible and just phase through the streets to get to where you need to go. Sure, most ghost ships come with a ghostly crew and who knows, they may not want to fight crime with you, but if they do, then oh baby are we in business. If you could get a ghost team and a cool boat you’d be virtually unstoppable! Your ghost crew could infiltrate, spy, and haunt in the name of the greater good. Plus, you can help them finish their unfinished business and grant their souls absolution! If that isn’t a superheroic thing to do then I don’t know what is! (So head on down to Dirty Denny’s Ghost Ship Dealership! They put the “sale” in “sail”. Wait what? That’s the ad copy they went with?)
Chariots/Sleighs
Many magical beings and deities use chariots or sleighs that are pulled by magical animals. Zeus has his chariot pulled by godly wind horses. Santa has got his magical reindeer. Greg the Skeleton King has his sled pulled by hellhounds. (And with Greg the Skeleton King being made entirely out of big juicy bones, you can imagine how well that goes.) But obviously that might not exactly be practical for you, a regular superhero who might not have access to highly trained magical animals. But, on the off chance that you do, a magical animal pulled chariot is a great way to make an entrance. If you show up to an active crime scene in a regal chariot pulled by majestic woodland critters I guarantee that people are going to applaud. At the very least, it will distract the bad guys long enough for you to get in a good opening shot. You need to make sure that these magical animals are trained not only in chariot pulling, but also crime fighting. Or at least self defense. Otherwise you’re putting the lives of these magical creatures at risk.
Enchanted Vehicles
Look, I know we said that mechanical vehicles are objectively worse than magical vehicles (and we’ve got a lot riding on you people believing that we mean it) but sometimes the two are not mutually exclusive. Some modern day wizards and mages have taken to enchanting regular mortal vehicles with magical abilities. These vehicles often represent the best of both worlds. You could have all of your technological doodads (turrets, rocket thrusters, AM/FM radio) and magic. Just note though, this is highly experimental magic. Sometimes the magic doesn’t react well with the tech and leads to unintended side effects such as [but not limited to] spontaneous sentience, toxic pixie dust emissions, and time dilation. So make sure the magician you’re purchasing your enchanted vehicle from is also an accomplished auto mechanic. A comprehensive understanding of both is really the best way to ensure a seamless blend of magic and tech.
As you can see, magical vehicles are the way to go. They make everything better! They’re sure to make you a better hero, and you’re sure to get a lot of positive attention from people for using such a cool and environmentally friendly vehicle. If you purchase a magical vehicle at full price, from say, your local village mystic, you’re sure to have a much better superhero career, and life overall. (And hopefully erase the rage you incurred when you blackmailed them for superpowers... or encouraged hundreds of would be heroes to blackmail local village mystics around the world for superpowers. Sorry Ethynda, hope this makes us square!)
#superhero#superheroes#Hatman#comedy#comics#humor#funny#hilarious#local village mystics#local village mystic#magic carpets#magic broom#ghost ships#santa claus#zeus#Greg the Skeleton King#enchanted vehicles#witchcraft#magic#wizardry#mages#magic vehicles
6 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cenazenakli-blog
cenaze nakli
witchecrafts
𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 .
octopusisreading
Octopus is reading
rahul1490k
Untitled
fuckyeahpipesofpan
Pipes of Pan