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forestdeath1 · 2 months

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Regulus wasn't forced by his parents to join the Death Eaters

What do we know about the Black family? I'll write a post about this because there's quite a bit we know if we read the canon in depth.

But the main point for this post is that for the Blacks, the survival and prosperity of their lineage were critically important.

The survival of their surname was in a precarious state at that time because women did not keep their surname nor pass it on to their children. Only two people could continue the line – Sirius and Regulus.

Preserving their lineage was so crucial for the Blacks that they didn't officially disown Sirius after his escape, or they reinstated him after Regulus's death. Because Sirius was the last Black. The last one who could carry on their line. Even if he was a rebellious Gryffindor who liked "mudbloods," he was still a Black.

When Sirius died, even the portrait was upset, although it's not alive. It's simply a reflection of the Blacks' attitude towards the survival of their lineage.

Am I to understand,’ said Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry’s left, ‘that my great-great-grandson – the last of the Blacks – is dead?’

‘Yes, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Phineas brusquely. Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house ...

By the time Regulus was 16, Sirius had already run away from home.

Now, explain to me, all you fans of the "Regulus was forced" idea, what would be going through Orion and Walburga's heads to make them push their last hope for the continuation of their lineage into joining a combat organization where people are constantly being killed?

Considering they didn't join themselves because they disliked the methods and probably understood Tom's real goals.

Walburga was in school with Tom Riddle and was two years older than him. Orion Black was also in school with Tom, but he was two years younger. By that time, Tom Riddle aka Voldemort, hadn't yet changed his appearance to the point of being unrecognizable. They all knew who Voldemort was. Tom Riddle. An orphan boy. Likely, they knew he was the heir of Slytherin, which was important for the Blacks because, for them, it wasn't about money but about blood. True nobility and dignity are in the blood, not wealth. The Blacks aren't the Malfoys. And as Sirius said, at some point, they were inspired by Tom's ambition to change the situation in their country, although Sirius obviously knew very little about Voldemort, as he was hardly discussed in front of the children. But initially, the Blacks were inspired because he was worthy, the heir of Slytherin, right?

Probably Orion, Arcturus/Pollux realized that Tom didn't care about blood purity. He cared about his own power. By the time they understood this, Tom's power was already too strong, and he had won much support among the pure-blood society, who believed he genuinely cared about pure-blood wizards.

Why did Sirius say he was sure their parents were proud of Regulus?

Because most likely, not both parents were proud, as Sirius doesn't mention the father at all, and Walburga had an irrational desire to see her son as a hero. Sirius – the lineage's continuer, and Regulus – a brave and courageous warrior for blood purity. Because being a Death Eater was seen as brave and cool. They were revolutionaries. Chosen warriors.

Moreover, Bella was already in the organization and could influence Walburga's opinion against Orion and Arcturus's wishes. Playing on Walburga's emotional irrationality wasn't very hard, especially for Bella and Rodolphus.

Bella was in love with Voldemort. Rodolphus was devoted to Voldemort from the start, as Lestrange Sr. had been a supporter of Tom since their school days. The Rosiers fall into the same group. Surprise, surprise, Bella's mother – Druella Rosier, was likely the sister of that very Rosier who was with Tom from the start and who was Evan Rosier's father. Cygnus Black is open for interpretation, but my headcanon is that from a young age, he was a bit more aggressive than the others and didn't quite fit into the family dynamics and control (and Bella took after him in part).

Who convinced Regulus to join the organization, even knowing Orion and the Blacks were against it?

From the little we know about Regulus, it's clear he was a maximalist inclined to broad "heroic" actions, with his own understanding of honor. He had been committed to the idea of blood purity from childhood, believing it to be truly noble and important. He wanted to be a hero and admired Voldemort. Also, always being second to Sirius, he wanted to prove his worth. That he too was strong and brave and capable of significant, but correct actions. And, our beloved Bella was there. She helped him join the organization at 16.

If you want tragedy in Regulus Black's story, here it is:

Regulus Black went to his death knowing he was the last of the Blacks. He destroyed his family. His lineage. Put an end to it. Even for Sirius, running away was easier because Regulus was still there. When Regulus went to his death, Sirius had already run away from home.

There's much more interesting stuff here than "Regulus was forced." But who cares, right? Fuck canon, live fanon.

#regulus black #walburga black #orion black #the noble and most ancient house of black #anti fanon regulus #anti marauders fandom #regulus black meta

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matan4il · 6 months

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Daily update post:

Even more than two weeks after the massacre of over 1,400 Israelis, the worst for Jews since the Holocaust, we're still seeing a rise in antisemitism globally:

A Jewish woman, who was also a leader in her community, was found stabbed to death right outside her house. Twenty seven hour later, the Detroit police still don't have a suspect or motive, but it's hard not to suspect a connection to the toxic antisemitic atmosphere of the past two weeks.

An Israeli elite unit (Maglan) has started using a new weapon, called "steel sting." It's a double guided smart bomb, meant to deliver a more precise impact when fighting in residential areas, so as to minimize damage to unrelated individuals.

There are currently so many Israelis evacuated or homeless, that Israel is expected to establish a "tent city" for some of them.

The following has been a developing story. First I heard about this Israeli Arab who had donated bikes to kids evacuated from the south, and it made me smile. Then I heard his shop was robbed and burned down for this. Now, it turns out there was as crowdfunding campaign to help him rehabilitate his business. If this isn't solidarity at its finest, in all directions, IDK what is. Feeling real emotional about the good that people ARE capable of...

I keep going back and forth on whether to share the worst of the worst. As a Nonnie who wrote to me hinted, some people seem to be really enjoying the sight of bound, abused, butchered, raped, maimed and burned Jews. It also goes against the Jewish principle of preserving the dead's dignity. But then again, there's been so much denial of these atrocities. Also, I don't think that people can understand what Israelis are going through without sharing that to us, the information keeps coming out. To Israelis (and many people linked to Israel), Oct 7 has been happening for two weeks now. Here's my compromise. I have a link to a Mega folder with horror videos, including stuff like Hamas terrorists filming themselves beheading people. I will not share it. At least not for now. But I will share this link to an article about the forensic work and the evidence, with the fair warning that even though I've seen worse, some of the pictures are not easy to look at.

The moment I started writing about my pain as an Israeli Jew, I started getting hate. So from that place, where I've personally experienced how even our GRIEF is turned into an opportunity to attack us, I wanna share this message from Jewish actor Brett Gelman on IG:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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shiplessoceans · 2 years

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Look, Izzy is a complex character. I understand this.

But that man really looked at a 'just beginning to heal from a heartbreak' Edward Teach who was finally up and about, cleaning his living space and beginning to fully embrace himself with honesty and vulnerability and just ....CRUSHED him.

"I should have let the English kill you."

The hurt. That hurt look on his face! Remember, Izzy sheltered him from the crew for those few days, covering for him and sending in Lucius, keeping everyone else at bay. Ed thought he understood. And this is where he begins to realise Izzy only ever cared about preserving the image of Blackbeard. Not his dignity as a person in pain.

"This...whatever it is you've become, is a fate worse than death."

You can see him try to recover enough to be 'tough' and laugh it off.

"Well, I am still Blackbeard."

And Izzy responds loudly and aggressively, encroaching on his space, shoving the mocking cartoon image of Ed in his face and saying that this is the only version of him that is acceptable.

"NO. This! This is Blackbeard. Not some namby pamby in a silk gown PINING FOR HIS BOYFRIEND."

Izzy mocks his pain. Proving he never understood, merely tolerated and humoured him. He mocks Ed's very real affection and love for Stede and belittles the hope he held onto that Stede might come back.

The betrayal stings and Ed explodes, throwing Izzy back against a wall by his throat.

"CHOOSE YOUR NEXT WORDS WISELY, DOG!"

But this of course is exactly what Izzy wants. And he doesn't only approve, he tries to initiate physical affection immediately afterwards. Attempting to cradle his face.

"There he is."

Edward smacks his hand away and if you listen carefully, gasps in dismay before physically stepping back, distancing himself. He's disgusted. His emotions are being toyed with, not just as a means to an end, but for Izzy's own gratification.

He expected the angry outburst would pull Izzy into line but it played directly into his hands. The shock and anger is clear on his face and he takes a few deep breaths here, trying to get his bearings again.

Izzy doesn't let up, speaking as he takes a few steps closer, slowly encroaching on Ed's space again.

"Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard, not Edward. Edward better watch his fucking step."

Con O'Neill makes the acting choice here to glance downwards a few times while speaking, not to avoid eye contact but instead doing the same thing he did with Lucius during the "Have you ever been sketched" scene. His eyes are flicking down to Ed's mouth. Body language for "I am thinking about doing intimate things with you." Objectifying him at the same time as he threatens him.

The words here are important as well, Izzy just stated that Edward, who he is and who he has settled into as a person, is no longer safe around Izzy.

When Izzy leaves and we hear the door close you can hear Ed let go of a long breath, sighing as he instinctively attempts to pull the robe closed because in that moment he felt exposed and vulnerable and didn't like it.

His expression at the beginning of the scene and at this moment are polar opposites. His face was open, happy and calm. Now it's tight, closed off and troubled.

And the final nail in the coffin comes when we hear the men up on deck calling for "Eddie" to come sing them another song.

In my head, this is the moment Ed realises that those men could get him killed.

Taika and Con absolutely slayed the acting in this scene and the whole arc for season 2 arguably pivots off it. Kings.

Having said that, Izzy Hands it is ON SITE for what you did to my boy.

#ofmd meta? kinda?#our flag means death #gentlebeard #edward teach #israel hands #izzy hands #con oneill #taika waititi #ofmd 1x10 #wherever you go there you are #ofmd #blackstede #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #ofmdspoilers #ofmd meta

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dreamingsnowflake2013 · 1 year

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THIS! The ultimate irony of fate. The interactions between Zhaoyou and Tantai Jin prove how much the timeline has already diverged thanks to Susu’s actions. The Xiaoyao Sect Leader meets a completely different man this time around, with completely different eyes, heart and soul, a transformed man who understands kindness, regret, humility and love because he’s gone through the most excruciating pain and torment a mortal can experience in his lifetime, yet instead of lashing out at the world and taking revenge, he has overcome his worst impulses and chosen to be good and deal with his pain on his own.

The DG Tantai Jin considered having a master as something demeaning, yet the word gains a new meaning to him, a teacher, someone to help him, educate him and show him the way, a figure he had sorely lacked in his life, until Susu appeared, who really explained and translated the world and emotions to him.

Therefore it’s really apt that he finds his new master in her surrogate uncle, who had also been a teacher to her (the time-travel paradox!) and in the very place where he had met her in the original timeline as his alter ego. It’s so powerful how, for him, everything begins and ends with her. He and his universe revolve around her even 500 years after he lost her.

The way both Tantai Jin’s teachers keep falling asleep during his lessons! He should ask for a refund or at least a discount.

Also, the fact that he thought about joining the very same sect in the past and wanted to learn cultivation there because he knew that devouring demons had many disadvantages and limits and wouldn’t sustain him in the long run.

Moreover, it’s the place Ming Ye left behind as his legacy, showing that even the most terrible places and things can turn into something good. The place is really a metaphor for Tantai Jn - that even the darkest things might be basked in light one day, just like he has become a good man. That it doesn’t matter how you start but how you end and what decisions you make to get there.

It’s meaningful how Tantai Jin’s first reaction at seeing the sect contrasts the Devil God’s - instead of destruction, he can finally see the beauty and light of it and appreciate it because Susu made him understand light.

Even the first meeting between Zhaoyou and Tantai Jin in the new timeline portrays a complete reversal of their original dynamic. With Tantai Jin kneeling now and seeking death and the sect leader being the one doing the teasing and playing with him.

Tantai Jin becomes the direct opposite of the Devil God up to his wardrobe, he wears a white silvery coronet headpiece instead of black, the colour pallete of his clothing is inversed and he lacks the dark armour with claw-like hand guards that made the Devil God appear so utterly inhuman.

If you can’t beat them, join them!

I adore how the one thing that both alter egos of Tantai Jin have in common is that they both end up seeking something from the Sect, its secrets - the Devil God looks for the only thing that can destroy him, the Mirror of the Past, while Tantai Jin searches for a hope how to resurrect his “dead” lover, but instead of blackmailing the Leader he begs him to teach him.

The way the sect leader helps Tantai Jin to stand up, preserving his dignity, after having to kneel and prostate himself for the better part of his life to survive and having to squash his own dignity in the process. The people in his life ordered and forced him to kneel, just like the original Ye Xiwu, but he kneels for Susu willingly now.

Finally, the fact that the Devil God had never been content or happy but for Tantai Jin, his life at the Sect, together with the time he spent with Susu, is the time he actually feels contentment and happiness.

#till the end of the moon #luo yunxi #bai lu #cdrama

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1-800-whatwouldbillydo · 1 year

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AU where Steve somehow ends up in Billy's room and stays with him until he falls asleep.

Billy's bed doesn't have much room for two bodies, but Steve solves that by clinging to Billy like a koala, careful to make sure he doesn't press on any of his bruises.

"Why?" Billy hiccups, trying to hold in his tears for a little longer. He doesn’t want Steve to see him like this. Pathetic. Weak. In other words, the real Billy Hargrove. Now King Steve’s going to tell the whole school what he saw, and everyone will know that he’s a crybaby.

“Why am I here? Or why am I in your bed hugging you?”

“Both.”

“Something told me you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Fine. If he won't mention It, that's just fine by me.

“I’m always alone.” He’s not exactly fit to lie at the moment. Besides, it was a mutual understanding when they started seeing each other that they'd try being honest. Plus, Steve could see through even his best lies anyway.

His impromptu guest inhales sharply before gently kissing the spot where he’d collided with the shelf. The dam holding back his river of tears breaks, and he tries to hide his face from Steve to try and preserve some dignity. Neil’s already called him a pussy for crying like a little bitch.

Steve wasn’t heartless, but he was about as emotionally available as a tree stump, or so Billy had heard through the grapevine. According to Tommy, Steve hadn’t cried since he was eleven when his grandmother died, and he “dismissed the feelings of those closest to him until they couldn’t take it anymore”.

For all of Tommy’s literal shortcomings, he’s known Steve a lot longer than Billy has.

“I don’t like this.”

Billy shoves down the temptation to shove Steve out of his bed. You won’t. You couldn’t even push your old man.

“I mean... I hate when you’re hurting. When you’re sad. I don’t know what to say to make this better. I open my mouth and I... I hurt people.”

Against his better judgment, Billy turns over to stare at Steve, who may look increasingly uncomfortable at all the emotion on display but hasn’t shown any signs of pulling away yet.

On nights like these, Billy usually holds his own hand for comfort. As he’s about to complete his sad little ritual, Steve taps Billy’s palm twice, and then with unexpected tenderness, holds his hand, conveying more than words ever could.

In the morning, the only proof that last night really happened is Billy's hand molded to fit the shape of a bigger one.

❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

//✏️Tagslist//

@flashwaves @thebussynotes @shieldofiron @thatgirlwithasquid @jad3w1ngs @usaqaix @hargrove-mayfields @thecrabnebula @talesfrom-theupsidedown @emeraldwitches @robthegoodfellow @magellan-88 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @spaceboxkitty @ashyyboyy @harringrovsonsworld @martyreasemymind @awkwardgravity1 @fizzigigsimmer @captainrexshusband @atomrose @billyhargr-a-ve @gracethieved @anarcha-queer-horror @skyesayshi @hgrve @angelshiba @jaethecreator @thissortofsorcery @suometar @ilydacree @femmebilly @nogitsunbae

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teruel-a-witch · 1 year

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that one time steve and danny took a sidebar at a crime scene for some eye-sex and emotional bonding

nbd, just eye-humping each other next to a bunch of barrels filled with corpses, it being a dumping ground for yakuza and all, like normal people.

danny asks steve how things are going with his mother but that doesn't stop him from checking him out in the process, multitasking is a skill.

he's particularly good at doing it when steve is distracted ↓

↑in case we forget, mcgarrett doesn't have monopoly on heart eyes.

only steve and danny can have unparalleled levels of romantic tension while standing at a crime scene filled with dead bodies and discussing the antics of steve's wayward spy mother.

steve tells danny about doris breaking into the fbi database, but danny astutely asks him if steve is more upset about that or the fact that she is in trouble, because he knows his man and his big heart.

steve is definitely conflicted because he knows he should be less forgiving of doris but he can't help it, his need to fix things.

'look, look, it's none of my business, alright? but whatever she did, so what? she's your mother, she's in trouble and you gotta help her, right?'

doesn't matter what he personally thinks about doris, danny knows steve, so he gives him approval to do what he wanted to do, aka help his mother, no matter what she has done. sure he could have preserved his dignity or whatever but danny knows if steve doesn't help her and something bad happens he will never forgive himself, so he takes pressure off of steve/absolves him of his doubt.

danny essentially plays a function of a sin-eater for steve in this instance which prompts him to give danny one of the most intense and longest looks ever, because he cannot adequately put everything he's feeling into words.

steve: danny is too good for this world and precious and boy do I love him so much but I can never tell him so I'm just gonna bore holes in the fabric of time with my gaze. who cares about the barrels with corpses anyway?

#mcdanno #h50 meta #very serious scene analysis ™#h50 #myh50 #h50edit #h50 3x23 #h50 caps #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #hawaii five 0 #h50 season 3 #im tired so im not even sure how co herent is this #but i spent all day yesterday picking out and editing caps of this scene #so i wasn't gonna let it go to waste lol

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galina · 1 year

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resolutions 23

I want to love. I want to kill the part of me that thinks I’m too good for love. That thinks I’m unloveable. I want to be the best partner, friend, lover and spouse I can be. I want to build a beautiful life together. I want to spend the key moments of my life with our chosen family. I want to ask my biological family for permission to do that, to build that new life, with new tradition, and I want them to understand and be happy for us. I want a healthy, boundary filled relationship with them which preserves my dignity and emotional wellbeing. I want the low sound of many plates and cups around my table.

I want to write something brilliant. I want to write anything, anything at all, something that speaks to me and to others. I want to get up there and read it out instead of always listening and wishing I could do that. I want to publish something. I want someone to tell me they read it and my writing is good. I want to read and be read and grow from that experience.

I want to eat well. I want to eat gloriously. I want to serve and be served at restaurants and cafes and bars which are beautiful, small, intimate, warm, organic, completely and totally themselves, communal, intertwined, gorgeous. I want to drink a cold beer in a warm pub and laugh so hard at a story someone is telling that I can’t speak.

I want to make things with my hands. I want to make sculptures, pottery, ceramics, carvings, I want to draw on paper, huge, small, I want to take photographs and videos and make things that make my friends smile. I want to craft objects that make the world even more lovely.

I want to want. I want fantastic and delicious and unashamed sex. I want physical touch and longing and gratification and hot wax and cold metal. I want trembling. I want shaking and laughing and gasping. I want a deeper understanding about bodies, mine and others.

I want to play. I want to be joyful and honest and good and let everything bubble to the surface with ease. I want to strum a guitar and let my voice carry away. I want our voices to meet, harmoniously, inharmoniously, it doesn’t matter as long as we’re loud and abundant with songs.

I want to move. I want to swim, feel powerful, feel the body move, I want to run and feel my feet. I want to sleep deeply and satisfied-ly. I want dance, alone in my kitchen, in the crowded room between many bodies. I want to take trains and buses and walk for miles. I want to see new places and old places again.

I want mismatched glassware, pleather jackets, night swimming, dirty jokes, reading books and not posting about it, low rise baggy trousers, steel frames, sincerity. I want commitment to the bit. I want you to laugh and I want it to be me that made you laugh.

I want to turn off the part of me that worries, I want to turn off the part of me that buzzes and scrolls and clicks. I want to return to tangible things I can squeeze and talk to and feel. I want to wear an outfit that is entirely blue. I want to have a conversation where we both feel seen and heard.

#is this kind of resolutions but also kind of the in and out trend??#maybe #it's off my chest anyway

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likealittleheartbeat · 15 days

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"A fifth point concerning nonviolent resistance is that it avoids not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. The nonviolent resister not only refuses to shoot his opponent but has also refused to hate him. At the center of nonviolence stands the principle of love. The nonviolent resister would contend that in the struggle for human dignity, the oppressed people of the world must not succumb to the temptation of becoming bitter or indulging in hate campaigns. To retaliate in kind would do nothing but intensify the existence of hate in the universe. Along the way of life, someone must have sense enough and morality enough to cut off the chain of hate. This can only be done by projecting the ethic of love to the center of our lives.

In speaking of love at this point, we are not referring to some sentimental or affectionate emotion. It would be nonsense to urge men to love their oppressors in an affectionate sense. Love in this connection means understanding, redemptive good will. When we speak of loving those who oppose us, we refer to neither eros nor philia; we speak of a love which is expressed in the Greek word agape. Agape means understanding, redeeming good will for all men. It is an overflowing love which is purely spontaneous, unmotivated, groundless, and creative. It is not set in motion by any quality or function of its object. It is the love of God operating in the human heart.

Agape is disinterested love. It is a love in which the individual seeks not his own good, but the good of his neighbor (1 Cor. 10:24). Agape does not begin by discriminating between worthy and unworthy people, or any qualities people possess. It begins by loving others for their sakes. It is an entirely "neighbor-regarding concern for others," which discovers the neighbor in every man it meets. Therefore, agape makes no distinction between friends and enemy; it is directed toward both. If one loves an individual merely on account of his friendliness, he loves him for the sake of the benefits to be gained from the friendship, rather than for the friend's own sake. Consequently, the best way to assure oneself that love is disinterested is to have love for the enemy-neighbor from whom you can expect no good in return, but only hostility and persecution.

Another basic point about agape is that it springs from the need of the other person--his need for belonging to the best in the human family....

Agape is not a weak, passive love. It is love in action. Agape is love seeking to preserve and create community. It is insistence on community even when one seeks to break it. Agape is a willingness to go to any length to restore community. It doesn't stop at the first mile, but it goes the second mile to restore community. It is a willingness to forgive, not seven times, but seventy times seven to restore community...He who works against community is working against the whole of creation. Therefore, if I respond to hate with a reciprocal hate I do nothing but intensify the cleavage in broken community. I can only close the gap in broken community by meeting hate with love. If I meet hate with hate, I become depersonalized, because creation is so designed that my personality can only be fulfilled in the context of community....

In the final analysis, agape means a recognition of the fact that all life is interrelated. All humanity is involved in a single process, and all men are brothers...

A sixth basic fact about nonviolent resistance is that it is based on the conviction that the universe is on the side of justice. Consequently, the believer in nonviolence has deep faith in the future. This faith is another reason why the nonviolent resister can accept suffering without retaliation. For he knows that in his struggle for justice he has cosmic companionship. It is true that there are devout believers in nonviolence who find it difficult to believe in a personal God. But even these persons believe in the existence of some creative force that works for universal wholeness. Whether we call it an unconscious process, an impersonal Brahman, or a Personal Being of matchless power and infinite love, there is a creative force in this universe that works to bring the disconnected aspects of reality into a harmonious whole."

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., "An Experiment in Love" (1958)

#took out some specific biblical references for impact and brevity #so many people on both sides make bad faith arguments on the finale #as if its not the ultimate evocation of nonviolent principles #there's so many more pieces in this mlk essay that relate to aang and atla #and he cites gandhi all along the way just not in these passages #aanglove

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horoscope1726 · 11 days

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What does Saturn moon conjunction in eighth house mean?

A Saturn-Moon conjunction in the eighth house of a birth chart can indicate several potential themes and influences, blending the energies of Saturn, representing structure, discipline, and responsibility, with those of the Moon, symbolizing emotions, instincts, and the unconscious. Here are some possible interpretations of this placement:

Emotional Depth and Intensity: The eighth house is associated with deep psychological processes, transformation, and intense emotional experiences. With the Moon here, emotions are already heightened, and Saturn's influence can add a layer of seriousness and depth to these emotional experiences. Individuals with this placement may have a strong emotional resilience and the ability to navigate through intense feelings with discipline and maturity.

Fear of Loss and Abandonment: Saturn's presence in the eighth house can bring up fears and insecurities related to loss, particularly in intimate relationships or shared resources. There may be a deep-seated fear of abandonment or a tendency to hold onto emotional attachments tightly. Individuals may struggle with trust issues and may be cautious about opening up emotionally to others.

Psychological Depth and Insight: This placement suggests a profound interest in understanding the depths of the human psyche. Individuals with Saturn and the Moon in the eighth house may be drawn to psychology, psychotherapy, or other forms of self-exploration. They may have a keen intuition and insight into the motivations and behaviors of others, as well as their own inner workings.

Controlled Expression of Emotions: Saturn's influence in the eighth house can lead to a more controlled and disciplined approach to expressing emotions. Individuals may be reserved or cautious in revealing their true feelings, preferring to maintain a sense of emotional distance or control. There may be a tendency to suppress or repress emotions, leading to occasional bouts of emotional heaviness or depression.

Financial Responsibility and Planning: The eighth house also governs shared resources, including finances and investments. With Saturn here, individuals may take a serious and disciplined approach to managing financial matters, particularly those related to debts, taxes, and inheritances. There may be a strong sense of responsibility towards financial stability and long-term planning.

Transformative Healing Journey: Saturn's conjunction with the Moon in the eighth house suggests a potential for profound emotional healing and transformation. Individuals may undergo significant personal growth through facing and overcoming deep-seated fears, insecurities, and emotional wounds. Therapy, introspection, and inner work can be powerful tools for self-discovery and healing with this placement.

Legacy and Inheritance Issues: Saturn in the eighth house can also bring attention to issues surrounding inheritance, legacies, and ancestral patterns. Individuals may feel a sense of duty or responsibility towards preserving family assets or traditions, but they may also encounter challenges or restrictions in this area.

As with any astrological interpretation, it is important to consider the entire natal chart and the individual's specific circumstances to understand how the Saturn-Moon conjunction in the eighth house unfolds in their life. Other factors, such as aspects to other planets, planetary dignities, and the overall balance of the chart will also influence the expression of these energies. For which you can take help of Kundli Chakra Professional 2022 software. Which can give you an accurate and better information based on your horoscope.

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strangestcase · 1 year

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Putting an end to the debate “who wins in a fight, Seward, Jekyll, or Frankenstein?” using facts and logic (and stats). They may use weapons but NOT assistance, outside help, or their powers (this goes for Jekyll! DROP THAT POTION INSTANTLY OLD MAN!)

FRANKENSTEIN

YAY: has enough resolve to get into a fight, would gladly fight someone bigger than him if he had good reason for it, the most physically active of the three, also the youngest, has mountaineering experience, can and will use a cleaver, is a Romantic

NAY: rotten coward, chronically ill, emotional, might be too depressed or euphoric to properly fight, anxious, not big or strong, doesn’t have enough fighting experience to defend himself, definitely doesn’t want to be here

VERDICT: if he can be egged into fighting, he becomes a pretty testy and unpredictable foe, but that depends on luck. If he doesn’t have it in him to fight, he just won’t. Most likely to collapse either from fear or a bad cough and not recover quickly enough before he’s utterly destroyed.

SEWARD

YAY: enough guts to face a vampire, very desensitized to violence and weird stuff at this point, good with a knife, probable experience roughhousing, very VERY honor-bound, desperate enough to cheat, crafty enough to not need to cheat.

NAY: emotionally sensitive, not a fighting type, better at facing danger from the backseat, has little self-preserving instincts, too tired to retaliate, generally unlikeable and therefore satisfying to punch/stab, panics all too quick.

VERDICT: good defensive fighter but doesn’t have enough muscle to offend, and his knife isn’t always reliable. With Frankenstein it’s a 50/50 chance he wins, but with Jekyll that might be less certain. Easily distracted. There will come a point in which he finds his two foes too scary and he might either double down or attempt to give up, key word attempt.

JEKYLL

YAY: is full of hatred and anger, the tallest and most physically imposing of the three, has fighting experience, enjoys violence for the sake of violence, crafty, quick at improvising weapons, more pragmatic, overdoes himself, looking for excuses to go for the overkill.

NAY: the oldest of the three, somewhat insecure, maybe impotent, overthinker, concerned with manners, the type to not want to get dirty, arrogant, overestimates his abilities and then backs down.

VERDICT: as long as nobody is watching, he will give his all and unleash loads of anger on his foes. His age might have taken some strength from him but he doesn’t give up easily. Will feel sorry about Frankenstein to a certain degree, but not about Seward. Smokes them both with relative ease, though he probably sustains more damage than he believed, and his indecisiveness makes the battle longer than needed.

OVERALL VERDICT: Seward lasts more than expected but eventually is defeated, Victor has a 50/50 chance of making it to the mid-battle, Jekyll wins but at what cost (his dignity).

#doc talks #gothic fiction #frankenstein #dracula #jekyll and hyde #dr seward #victor frankenstein #henry jekyll #jack seward #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #gothic literature

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turtle-paced · 2 years

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How do you think the reader is supposed to interpret Gemma's story of Tywin regarding her marriage in AFFC? An attempt to humanize the man in a book that otherwise paints him in a negative light, or a possible further criticism that one of the people who tries to give him praise mistakes his actions to preserve the "eliteness" of their family name as concern for her well-being?

Here's the relevant quote for context:

"Did you love him?" Jaime heard himself ask.

His aunt looked at him strangely. "I was seven when Walder Frey persuaded my lord father to give my hand to Emm. His second son, not even his heir. Father was himself a thirdborn son, and younger children crave the approval of their elders. Frey sensed that weakness in him, and Father agreed for no better reason than to please him. My betrothal was announced at a feast with half the west in attendance. Ellyn Tarbeck laughed and the Red Lion went angry from the hall. The rest sat on their tongues. Only Tywin dared speak against the match. A boy of ten. Father turned as white as mare's milk, and Walder Frey was quivering." She smiled. "How could I not love him, after that? That is not to say that I approved of all he did, or much enjoyed the company of the man that he became... but every little girl needs a big brother to protect her. Tywin was big even when he was little."

Jaime V, AFFC

I find it a pretty nuanced take from Genna on a personal level. She knows she didn't like Tywin, but nor is she wrong that in this very important matter, Tywin was the only person to stand up for her dignity. It's fair enough for her to value that, and she acknowledges where her opinion is coming from.

But as far as Tywin's own characterisation goes, to me it says something about how longstanding his issues of Lannister superiority go. Tywin's son just asked Tywin's sister about her emotional connection to Tywin, and the reason she gives is caught up with the fact that even as a ten-year-old boy Tywin was standing up and saying in public Lannisters are better. Maybe Tywin was protecting Genna - but that protection is inherently based on the fact that he thought the Lannister surname made her inherently above a second son of House Frey.

In the end I think the incident shows some of the seeds of the toxic excesses Tywin went to in the name of his view of House Lannister.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #tywin lannister #jaime lannister #genna lannister #a feast for crows

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parvuls · 2 years

Text

(Part 1)

Eric waits until the last possible moment, when Jack is already halfway out of his seat and reaching for the strap of his bag.

“I can’t make it tomorrow,” he blurts out, then resists the overwhelming urge to squeeze his eyes shut in a whole-body flinch. Jack looks up and frowns at him, forehead wrinkling under long bangs, so Eric has no choice but to keep talking. “My – um. I can’t be here this early tomorrow. And I know you have, like, hockey after school…”

They’ve been meeting to work on their assignment for three mornings now, and Eric still has to try hard not to jump out of his skin every time Jack pins his eyes on him. It’s not that it’s been bad, really – Jack is unexpectedly serious about his schoolwork, and Eric hasn’t heard him say anything particularly mean yet, at least not to his face – but Jack is just kind of intense. He’s not as rowdy as Coach’s football boys, but he’s bigger than the average high school kid in that same way, takes up space in that same way. Eric cannot imagine ever being fully comfortable around boys like that.

“Why can’t you be here this early?” Jack asks, slowly pulling his bag up from the floor.

Ugh. Eric had really hoped to avoid this, in the hope of preserving the last shreds of his dignity as a lowly sophomore.

“My daddy’s the football coach,” he mumbles when it’s clear that Jack is waiting for a response. “They practice in the mornings so he’s here pretty early anyhow, and he drives me to school, but tomorrow he has a coaches’ meeting in town... And there’s no bus at that hour.”

It’s always quiet in the library, but especially this early in the day when there’s no one around except the two of them and the librarian sipping tea at the front desk. Eric can hear everything, from the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights to the sprinkles going outside to Jack’s godawful neon sneakers shuffling on the ground.

“I have a car,” Jack states eventually.

Of course he does. And of course Eric knows this. The school’s parking lot may as well be a physical manifestation of social hierarchy. Jack drives a shiny car that was very obviously not handed down to him by a parent or an older sibling like most students, and it’s always parked in the good spaces, too, right next to the main entrance.

“Well,” Eric huffs, trying to sound irritated but probably landing somewhere closer to awfully jealous. “I don’t. So. Can we reschedule?”

Jack’s face does something that Eric cannot even begin to decode. “No. I mean, yes, we can, but I meant – I have a car. I can give you a ride tomorrow.”

He – what. “What,” Eric says out loud, and can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed by how audible his bafflement is. “You – seriously? But –” He almost says, but people might see us together, and then decides he doesn’t want to present Jack with any open-goal shots, even if he hasn’t been outright cruel yet. “I mean, that’s nice of you, but you really don’t have to do that. You’d have to wake up even earlier!”

Jack exhales loudly and swings his bag around, sticking his arm through the loop of the other strap. “We need to get this assignment done. I don’t have time to work on it on the weekend. I’m busy every day after school, so I need you here in the morning. Is that going to be a problem?”

Good Lord, not if he keeps looking at Eric like that. "N-no," he shakes his head for good measure.

Jack pulls on the straps of his bag, tightening them over his shoulders. “Text me your address. Don’t be late.”

Eric’s still rooted to his spot when he hears the library door squeaking open and the sound of footsteps walking away.

It probably wouldn’t have hurt to mention that Eric despises mornings with every bone of his teenaged body before he agreed to this plan.

“What is that,” Jack asks him as soon as the passenger door latch clicks shut behind him. It’s more a demand than a question, really, although Eric’s not fully convinced that Jack’s voice is even capable of inflection. If he ever experiences emotions, Eric certainly hasn’t heard evidence of it.

“Coffee,” Eric retorts shortly, narrowing his eyes at Jack, and takes a long gulp from his thermos to demonstrate. It’s exactly the right temperature, tooth-achingly sweet just how he likes it, and it’s honestly the only thing keeping him from stomping his way back to bed and pulling the sheets up to his ears until a more reasonable hour.

“That thing is bigger than your head.” Jack can’t seem to take his eyes off the thermos for long enough to put the car in drive. It’s the first time Eric can recall Jack observing him with anything close to interest.

“Yes, and every drop is vital for my functioning right now,” Eric defends, curling the thermos closer to his body. He’d probably be more wary of grunting at Jack Zimmermann like this, but it’s Jack Zimmermann’s fault he’s up at this hour to begin with, and Eric’s brain is not at all awake enough for his self-preservation instincts to kick in. Hopefully Jack isn’t the type to risk ramifications by shoving him out of a moving vehicle in revenge.

“Whatever works for you, man,” Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly, the barest hint of a facial expression besides indifference. The car rumbles as Jack shifts gears and steers them away from his spot by the curb.

They’re idling at the red light two streets down from Eric’s house when Jack glances at him, looks back at the road, and then says, “You know caffeine stunts your growth, right.”

Eric grits his teeth together. The coffee suddenly tastes bitter on his tongue, despite all the sugar he dumped into it.

“Bless your heart, Zimmermann,” he replies icily, and isn’t sure if it’s fortunate or a shame that the subtext is entirely lost on Jack.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits #writing high schoolers is a very specific experience #this universe kind of has an overall plotline? because I'm incapable of messing around without a plan apparently?#let's be honest this whole thing is just an excuse to write bad bob fucking up a little bit #pavfics #text

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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

Text

pretty when you cry - chapter nine

series masterlist / next chapter

*originally posted to @bellareadsandrecs on 04/13/22*

pairing: dark!biker!bucky x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: 18+ ONLY. this is potentially a very triggering chapter (as if the others aren’t 🫣) so please proceed with caution. i did my best, but it’s always a possibility that i’ve missed something that should be tagged. toxic relationship. threats of violence. noncon/dubcon relationship. manipulation. emotional breakdown. 👀 if you feel anything needs to be added - please don’t hesitate to bring it to my attention!

words: 4k

notes: i’m sorry this isn’t really edited. i’m very tired and i have no concept of wether or not this is a cohesive, coherent chapter. 😙my apologies if this is shit. if it is, hopefully chapter ten will be better 💀 a lot of what i wanted to do in chapter nine is being pushed to ten and this is just kinda setting it all up. as always, feedback is more than welcome! thank you for reading and reblogging and commenting - i truly love reading what you all have to say and your thoughts. thank you for the continued support for this series and i hope you enjoy this new chapter 🥰💘

This is a DARK series!!! Please proceed with abundant caution.

If anyone knew …

You shook your head, dropping it in shame from just thinking about it. God, you couldn’t even imagine how disgusted they would be. How people would judge you if they ever found out. You couldn’t blame them. You judged yourself too.

You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively though you were standing alone in your room, wearing a good three layers of clothing.

All you had to do was get through dinner. He said he would leave if you told him to. He said he wouldn’t force you to do this. So you’d eat and then tell him to go. You had decided and you were set, deliberately ignoring the ache in your heart at the idea of Bucky leaving.

It would be for the best. This was too much. It was all way too much and you couldn’t hold out any longer. You couldn’t fight it any more, though you kept trying to. It was getting harder and harder the more he was around and the softer he became to you.

And what happens when you learn more about him, huh? What if it brings even more real emotions into the equation..

What happens if you love him.. Because, unfortunately, you were pretty sure you did. You didn’t like it, but you did.

You had reason enough to hate him, and a part of you did, yet that didn’t stop the yearning for him, it didn’t stop the ache you felt so deeply to be with him. It didn’t stop the unfounded love for him from overtaking you. So what happens once there’s actual reason to love him aside from the fated destiny you’ve been tied to? What are you expected to do with more rooted feelings for him?

Either way you were denying yourself. You ask him to stay and you deny yourself your dignity, you ask him to leave and you deny yourself your heart. Either way, you were going to be hurt.

And it already hurt too much. And he had hurt you too much, you had to remind yourself. That was the root of all of this. It was his fault. The struggle. The pain. The desperate longing that you had to fight to resist. You only had to resist because he couldn’t. How is that fair? It’s not. It’s not fair.

But that’s how things work out sometimes, right? Sometimes, life just isn’t fair.

So you’d go on knowing you were losing your soulmate, not because you truly wanted to. But because you had to. Didn’t you? There was no situation that could make what he did right. And you would feel betrayed and shamed every time you thought about it. What really were your choices here? Preserve any dignity and sense of self you had left and go on alone - or cave to the tugging in your chest that was constantly longing for Bucky and feeling like a fool anytime you would recall your first time with him. And Bucky was mean. Not always. And not always to you. But you knew he could be. He was dangerous and scary. And the leader of a literal biker gang. Danger was around every corner with him, you were sure. You were also sure he’d never let anything happen to you. Fuck, it was like every con was met with a ‘pro’ and every ‘pro’ was met with another con as you continue to rage war inside yourself.

The calling of your name from the kitchen broke you from your mind and you followed the sound out to meet Bucky setting the food on the table.

“Got enough layers on there, sweetheart?” he said as he looked you up and down. “If you’re cold I could always warm you up, ya know,” he said suggestively.

“I’m fine,” was all you responded with as you sat down at the chair in front of you, Bucky taking his own seat directly across from you. Your kitchen table wasn’t very big, so he was quite close to you. As you scooted your chair in, your knees bumped his and you quickly pulled your legs up onto your seat, one leg bent up and the other, you sat on while Bucky just smirked at you.

“I made you come on my fingers not even an hour ago and now you can’t even handle your clothed knee bumping into mine?” he taunted, exasperated.

“That was.. It was a mistake. That shouldn’t have happened. It just- just clouded my already skewed judgment. I shouldn’t have-”

“Why shouldn’t you have?” he interjected.

“I can barely think straight when you’re around, Bucky. I -”

“Then just stop thinking so hard, doll,” he said seriously.

“You don’t get it. You don’t understand. It obviously didn’t affect you like it affected me, not - not in the same way,” you shook your head. “You.. I can’t - I don’t want to talk about it again,” you said as you looked down at the table. He made a sigh of acceptance and started opening the containers of food he had ordered for you both, scooping stuff onto both of your plates while you watched.

He sat back and watched you for a moment before grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“You just gonna stare at it? I know you haven’t eaten all day - I’ve been here with you,” he chastised.

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly picked up a fork of your own, playing with the food on your plate.

“So, what do you want me to start with? What do you want to know?”

“I don’t think I want to know anything, but considering you know all there is to know about me, I guess it’s only fair… Let’s start with your name,”

“Bucky,” he said quickly.

“Your actual name, jackass,” you bit while shooting daggers at him across from you, simultaneously stabbing a piece of broccoli onto your fork.

Bucky laughed as he took you in once again while finishing another bite of his food before responding.

“James. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“James,” you repeated with a raised eyebrow.

“Everyone calls me Bucky, ever since I was a kid..” he started.

As you sat in front of him, it all felt very intimate. Bucky told you about his life, growing up, and now - well as much information as he could without divulging anything he didn’t really want you to know. He owned a shop downtown with Steve that him and the guys worked out of. It was obvious enough that it was a front for whatever other business they involve themselves in, but you didn’t ask anything further about it. You really just sat and listened. You tried, very hard, to not get caught up in him. In his vulnerability. Of course he had been being sweet to you lately, but you hadn’t expected him to open up so much to you. Any question you had, he answered so long as it didn’t have anything to do with his work.

You had regretted asking him about his family. It was obvious how much he cared for his sisters and his mom and it pulled at your heartstrings to hear the way he spoke about them.

Bucky was nothing if not loyal. And fiercely protective, at that. You thought how someone who seemed to have been raised so well could be so… dark. But when Bucky told you about his later life, it started to piece together. All he went through, and how he ended up where he was now. How the club got started, how they ended up here in your town, which, to your ashamed delight included what exactly happened between them and Rumlow’s guys. He didn’t go too much into detail, but after he forced you to tell him why you were fighting a grin at the new information, prompting you to tell him about your run in with them two years prior, he was nearly seething when he spoke again. “Knew I shoulda gotten rid of that worthless piece of shit when I had the chance. Stupid son of a bitch,” he spoke mostly to himself before locking eyes with you again.

“You’re never gonna have to worry about him again, you know that, right?” he said sincerely.

You gave a single nod as you broke eye contact and looked back down to your plate.

You really, really, regretted asking him about his arm. But you were so sure he wasn’t going to tell you that you didn’t even think if you truly wanted to know. Or even how insensitive the question itself was. Not that he deserved any of your sensitivities considering his track record. It still managed to make you feel like the worst person in the world, though.

Because he did tell you. Everything. The torture he went through. The trauma. God, how he lost his arm. It was horrible. Your heart broke for him despite yourself as he recounted his past. You didn’t even realize you had started to tear up until a tear fell and you quickly wiped it away, praying he didn’t notice as his stare was far off as he spoke.

You really needed to get a grip. What you wanted was to wrap Bucky in your arms and hold him, to offer him some form of comfort he hadn’t received in a lifetime. But you couldn’t do that. You wrapped your arms around yourself instead. Needing some comfort of your own.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you said softly.

He just looked back at you and smiled wryly.

“Was a long time ago, now,” he said almost dismissively as he picked at his food once again.

He huffed and dropped his fork, letting it clatter on the plate. You stared at him, perplexed.

“I really don’t know why I just told you all of that. I wasn’t gonna, ya know,” he huffed. “I didn’t want you to know any of that,” he said, sounding confused and a little angry. It was a charged minute of silence and stillness between the two of you.

“You done?” he asked abruptly as he picked up his nearly empty plate, moving to take yours as you nodded.

“You don’t have to wash those, I can do it,” you said as you slowly stood from your seat, cautiously approaching him, but stopping as you planted yourself and fought to find your courage and resolve. Something inside you told you that this wasn’t going to play out well, but you needed to do it. So you continued, “But I uhm.. I think you should..- you should probably go. It’d be a good time for you to go now.” It was a hell of a lot shakier than you planned, and you sounded unreasonably nervous, but you got it out, at least.

Bucky, however, froze at your words and the energy change was instantaneous. The light outside was gone and the darkness encasing you in the kitchen was disturbed only by the yellow overhead light that glowed down as Bucky’s face was in shadows, making him appear more menacing than normal.

“Go?” he all but growled.

“Yes,” you breathed as you stood still .

“You think I’m just gonna leave?” he chuckled bitterly.

“You.. said you would. If I asked you to go, you said you’d go.”

“I just gave you practically my whole life story, offered my heart to you on a platter,” he spit as the plate he held in his metal hand shattered to pieces from his tightening grip, “And you’re just gonna tell me to go?”

“You sai- ah!” you jumped when he slammed the other plate down in the sink, the sound startling you, making your heart beat faster than you thought possible.

“I know what I said. I guess I just thought you were smart enough to realize that I wasn’t really giving you an option, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to continue trying to deny this when I’ve made it more than clear that you’re mine,”

“I’m not yours,” you bit back. “And I’m not stupid enough to keep playing into your manipulative games. I’m denying it because I deserve better, better than what you did to me, better than whatever kind of fucked up love you’re capable of giving.” He growled and before you could even register what was happening, he was on you. His hand was like a vice on your throat as he moved you effortlessly and backed you up against the counter.

“Better?” He challenged. “You think you can get better than what I’m giving you? You think anyone is going to care about you the way I do? You think anyone could love you more than I do?”

You didn’t, not truly. And as your heart stung at his words, he obviously noticed.

“It doesn’t get any better than me, sweetheart. You need me,” he continued to seethe in your face as you struggled against his firm grip.

“I’ve been alone my entire life,” you choked out. “I don’t need anyone’s love, least of all yours,” you said through the tears of pure rage and heartbreak that were streaming down your cheeks as he finally relented after you continued shoving against him.

“Those tears would suggest otherwise,” he countered as he reached to wipe your cheek. You batted his hand away and flinched from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me! God, I don’t know why I thought for even a second that you could be good for me, that I actually believed you could really love me - that you could care for me,” you sobbed openly. Not caring how unabashed you were being in front of him. Ignoring the embarrassment burning through you. You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“You know how badly I want you? It’s breaking me. You’re breaking me. And I can’t take it. I don’t deserve it. It’s not fair! This isn’t fair! And it’s your fault. This is all your fucking fault! I hate you! I fucking hate you,” you wailed as you continued to evade him each time he tried to reach out for you, each step he took toward you, even going as far as throwing down a chair to block him from you as you continued backing away from the kitchen, though you didn’t make it far as you started to struggle to catch your breath through the onslaught of tears.

“You’ve ruined my life,” you whimpered as you slid down the kitchen wall, next to the back door.

Bucky kneeled down in front of you and tutted as he watched you.

“I haven’t ruined your life, princess… Not yet,” he said softly as he pulled your head from your hands, looking you in your blood shot eyes. “And I don’t want to. But I will. I’ll do whatever I have to do until you stop fighting this and admit that you’re mine. You can’t go on alone forever. But I can make sure you do until you give in to me. I’m not gonna be your last option, so you keep pushing me and I’m gonna make damn sure I’m your only option. For safety, for protection, for family. For love.”

“You’re threatening me? You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” you reminded him. “Though I guess your words really don’t mean much, do they?”

“I won’t hurt you, baby. Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said patronizingly as he shook his head at you.

“Never said anything about not hurting anyone else, though,” he continued as he leaned his head down to maintain eye contact while you tried to look away. “I’ve done worse for lower stakes.” Your breath froze at that as you took in his words. Did he mean that? Your mind raced to your mom, your sisters, Eva. What would he do to ensure that you didn’t have anyone else to turn to? To make sure that he was the only one that’d be there for you. You didn’t want to think about how dark Bucky was willing to go for you.

“Now, I’m gonna run out of patience pretty soon, sweetheart, and you’re not gonna like what I do once that happens. You’re not gonna like what happens if you make me force this. Because when I say I will do whatever I have to do to make you understand that you’re mine, I mean I will do whatever I have to.” He threatened as he seized and squeezed your jaw once again, eyes dark and menacing, boring into yours.

You felt like a terrified child in his clutch as you grasped his wrist in vain as you tried to ease the pressure and pain, looking at him with what you were sure were pleading eyes as you cried, lip wobbling.

He took pity on you and relaxed his hand, beginning to caress your face instead.

“I really don’t wanna be mean. I don’t want to make you cry, not like this. But you’re forcing my hand, here, doll. I need you. Why can’t you see that? You’re not just hurting yourself in this. You’re hurting both of us. You’re prolonging the inevitable. We could just be together, happily, now. But if you want to do this the hard way, if it really makes you feel so much better to fight it, we can do that, too. We can keep pretending like there are other ways this can play out. But no matter what, it ends with me and you. I’ll always be it for you, and you’ll always be it for me. It’s fated.”

He was right and you knew it. It was always gonna be him. And it did make you feel better to fight it. Like maybe you weren’t actually some depraved masochist if you just tried to resist it, to resist him. Or hell, maybe that resistance that was bringing you so much pain and grief was actually proving the opposite. Why else would you put yourself through this? Why wouldn’t you just let it be easy. Was he really the one playing mind games here, or was it you? Were you in a prison of your own making? Had you done this to yourself?

Destiny rules. He was right. You never really even had a choice in this. Only the illusion of one he presented to you, the illusion you had sold yourself, too. The realization hit you hard that despite what you thought or wanted, despite what you let yourself believe, you never really had a choice in this at all. And maybe that was easier. Not having an option. You didn’t have to think or worry, because it wasn’t up to you. You didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t fight him, you couldn’t fight this.

Or was this just another coping mechanism to help you not feel so terrible about letting it happen? Were you letting it happen? You didn’t know, truly.

Your brain was short circuiting and you let out a yell, more of a scream, of pure frustration and anguish, even stomping your feet and kicking your legs out like you were seven as you pushed Bucky away from you yet again.

“Wanna be alone,” you cried.

“No you don’t,” he said soothingly as he pulled you into him, now sitting cross legged in front of you.

You tried to fight out of his hold, but he was too strong, and his hold only got tighter the more you struggled.

“I hate you,” you cried into his neck.

“No, you don’t,” he maintained, only making you cry harder.

Twenty minutes passed before you were calmed down enough that Bucky let you go when you pulled away from him once again.

“Hate to leave you like this,” he began as he rose to his feet before pulling you back to standing along with him, “But I have some business to take care of tonight, it can’t wait.”

You wiped your eyes as you turned away from him.

“Make sure you lock the door behind me. Here’s the key,” he said as he took it from his pocket and placed it down on the table.

“Don’t they usually come with two?” you questioned irritatedly as you sniffled.

“It did,”

“Where’s the other one,” you asked, though you knew the answer.

He just held up his keys and jingled them at you as you narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head as you turned back and continued to walk away.

“You have a key. You care so much. Lock it yourself,” you said harshly as you stormed away.

The sound of the back door locking followed by the roar of his bike sent a pang of hurt through you that you couldn’t say you didn’t expect. The longer he was around you, the more it hurt when he left. No matter what preceded his departure.

That familiar feeling of longing returned, along with the same self hatred that followed it.

You needed to get away. And not just from him, you needed to disappear completely. You couldn’t go to Eva, you couldn’t go home. Who knows where Bucky would follow. What he’d do to the people you love if you ran away to them. If you tried to hide from him with them. You couldn’t put them in that kind of position. And you couldn’t tell anyone you were leaving at all. If they knew, that could potentially get them hurt. So no, you couldn’t tell anyone. You just needed to go. You didn’t think much about the practicality of it, you just knew you needed to get the hell out of town. You needed to get away from Bucky and you needed to go now. This was your only option, you knew it was now or never. You weren’t strong enough to resist him any longer. It got harder and harder every time.

You moved quickly, grabbing the empty duffle bag you had in your closet and filling it with whatever you could fit in it. You moved to the bathroom and grabbed your essentials. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly, but oh well. You knew he was going to be back. He’d never leave you alone. And when he came back… you were ashamed to admit that you knew you wouldn’t have the strength to tell him to go. Actually, you couldn’t keep lying to yourself. It wasn’t that you weren’t strong enough, it was that you knew you just simply wouldn’t want to. Despite everything he’d done and said, the taunts and threats and tumultuous emotions.. In spite of everything, you just wouldn’t.

If he had you in his grasp again, it’d be game over. You were surprised you hadn’t lost earlier, shocked you were able to keep evading this.. Like he said, it was inevitable. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t keep trying while you were still able to. However long that’d be now.

Grabbing your duffle and the random tote bags you had packed full, you headed straight to the front door. Snatching your keys, phone, and your purse, you rushed out to your car and took off, barely slowing down to remind yourself to buckle your seatbelt in your frenzy. Your bags were thrown haphazardly on the back seat and you didn’t really know where you were headed. It’s not like you had a destination in mind, and you certainly didn’t have any savings that you could rely on to fuel your impromptu road trip. You didn’t know what the fuck you were doing and the bright orange dot glowing on your dash alerted you to the fact that you were also low on gas. You were completely unprepared for a getaway and you felt stupider and stupider for even trying with each second that passed. You cursed as you tried to collect yourself and headed to the nearest gas station to fill up your tank so you could at least get out of town without further worry.

But as fate would have it, and of fucking course it would, you weren’t going to be able to get away that easily. Not from this town. Not from James “Bucky” Barnes. Your soulmate. Your fated love.. Or his stupid fucking friends. Eva was right, these god damn bikers were everywhere - even when you were too preoccupied to take notice of them.

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