#like in the other books its always the consequences of their own actions causing everything to fall apart they don’t need an evil genius
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it really is murdoch’s style to pick seemingly happy people to write about and then pick apart that happiness and tear it to shreds and then also kill someone just in case they even for a second imagined it could ever be restored. all to punish people for their idealist illusions about themselves and their loved ones
#p#literally so unnecessary in this book though like it was literally just one heinous meddling asshole orchestrating drama that otherwise#wouldn’t have happened#like in the other books its always the consequences of their own actions causing everything to fall apart they don’t need an evil genius#creating problems for them#i think thats why i like this book less idk if julius exposed existing secrets instead of creating them it would have been less frustrating#like this its just like. why brother. he couldn’t have predicted This outcome which i guess raises a mirror for him to look into instead of#pointing it at everyone else#alas.
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That cool bee book I was talking about a while ago mostly refrains from philosophical digressions (which I think is a strength, I appreciated how the author had total confidence that just clearly presenting the facts about his subject would be enough to make a fascinating book without the need for any "...and here's why that should blow your mind" editorializing, and he's totally right), but there was one towards the end I've found myself thinking about a lot, which is: he wants people to stop using "self-consciousness" (i.e. the concept exemplified by the mirror test but used implicitly or explicitly in tons of other contexts) as a criterion for which animals can be considered sentient/morally relevant/having significant inner lives/however you want to describe it. Not, as you might expect, because he thinks it's an unreasonably high bar to meet, but because it's such a low bar that it produces no distinctions: he argues that basically any animal with any kind of developed central nervous system has to have some kind of self-consciousness almost by definition.
The example I remember best is: imagine you can see an object in your visual field getting closer to you. No matter the specifics, it's obviously always going to make a huge difference to how you evaluate this situation whether the cause of the object getting closer is a] the object is moving towards you, or b] you are moving towards the object. If a, then something might be pursuing you or falling on you or a thousand other things that are just not even worth considering in the case of b. But visually the two cases are indistinguishable; if you're going to be able to track the difference, your brain has to be putting at least some work into keeping tabs on what your own intentions are and what choices you're making as you move through the world, predicting the expected consequences of those choices, and maintaining a fairly tidy mental separation between stuff in the world that you're making happen and stuff in the world that's just happening of its own volition. Otherwise, every time you walk towards a rock you'll freak out and think the rock is rolling into you, or vice versa.
And it's not hard to see how this applies to your entire sensory world right, it applies to sounds and tactile sensations and even feelings internal to your body to some extent, if you're going to both perceive the world and take actions in the world then it's mandatory to mentally separate yourself and the world before that's going to yield even an ounce of helpful information, you just can't function successfully on the most basic level if you're processing stuff that you're doing on the same level as stuff that's happening, if you're in that state then you simply don't have a usable model of the world at all, you just have chaos.
So you can very easily eliminate a certain seductive narrative about the evolution of consciousness, which starts with very primitive animals who are mentally processing nothing but basic sensory inputs, then as you rise up the chain more complex animals are forming concepts of objects and building up a more nuanced understanding of the world, until finally you approach humans and the mind becomes so subtle and sophisticated that it gains access to this special advanced meta-level of thought where it can even understand itself! No, the self is precisely the one idea that has to be in place from the very beginning, before any of it has even the most rudimentary practical value. Self-consciousness isn't the pinnacle of the mind's evolution, it's one of the lowest, most basic foundations that everything else builds off of.
I think this is really cool stuff! I don't know enough about the relevant academic philosophy of mind debates to say how far all this does or doesn't speak to that, maybe someone will tell me the "self-consciousness" concept being attacked here is a strawman somehow, I don't know. But it's definitely impacted the way I (just a dumb guy who likes creatures) think about our small small cousins and what their lives might be like and I think it's super interesting. If you think it's interesting too then maybe you wanna buy The Mind of a Bee by Lars Chittka and read it. It's mostly not about this stuff, as I say it's light on philosophy and heavy on bee-life immersion, but if you actually read this whole post then you're probably in the market for that I feel like.
#creatures: they've got a lot going on#I think we'd better just let them get on with it#nohopereadio#uninteresting
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oh did you not like sys tem coll apse? why not if you don’t mind me asking
Spoilers for system collapse below!
- felt very much like publishers/editors or whoever else were like hey Mwells this series is a smash hit you got anything else in the tank? And mwells scraped together a bunch of discarded scenes and concepts from the prev books and mushed that together into a minimum viable product
- no growth - all character arcs are either rehashes of what already happens in prev books or have no impact whatsoever. MB already learns that it cares about its friends and its friends care about it, that it can rely on them (hello Network Effect aka the most SLAMMIN AWESOME scifi action story i’ve read all DECADE); Tarik being a former corporate death squad trooper or whatever has absolutely no effect or consequence on anything; MB has even already crafted its own narrative & shared it, hello the documentary with bharadwaj??? the files it cut together for 3? THE WHOLE CONCEIT OF THE SERIES WHICH ARE THE MURDERBOT DIARIES WHICH ARE FRAMED EXPLICITLY AS NARRATIVES MB DELIBERATELY CRAFTS & SHARES WITH OTHERS???
- the climax of the book is. A montage.
Of our heroes making a powerpoint presentation.
I WISH this had been cool. It would’ve been hysterical to have a Final Battle be a pptx fight. Except.
It was. A montage. And then all the actual defining decisions happen offscreen. We don’t even get to see our heroes DO the actual thing - MB’s hacking gets a lot more detail than the construction of the pptx. Furthermore, how is this any different from what the corporate side is doing? Literally they’re both presenting competing propaganda pitch decks to a skeptical investor board that has what they want. It doesn’t actually matter that One Of These Powerpoints Is Always True And The Other Always Lies - how is it meaningfully different from a narrative & character standpoint? Right from the start of the series, PresAux are markedly different to all prior humans MB has had experience with - they are non-corporates! In this story about corporations/capitalism ruining everything! And then our other main heroes we meet, ART’s crew, are aggressively ANTI-corporate! So to have the climax of this latest book be “well both sides did the same action but one of them was objectively cooler bc it was Righteous - no dw it’s all happening offscreen anyway. Who cares.”
Well. Idk man, i was fucking bummed! It was boring!
Not to mention that the entire stakes of this whole… thing… are so lacking, as a reader? The rehash of prior arcs is especially poignant here, because none of the central concerns of the book feel like they matter. MB has already spent 5 books dealing with emotional disregulation, chronic issues caused by interactions of its organic + nonorganic parts, its attempts to navigate freedom, personhood and relationships in societies of bots and humans as a construct that is neither bot nor human but its own third thing, and learning to rely and trust itself and others. The first five books do this masterfully. System Collapse introduced nothing new, didn’t develop any relationships or plot arcs, regressed MB’s own main arc for no reason and ignored the entire symphony of a thesis of the entire damn series previous. Wish it wasn’t so :/
#Network Effect was a spectacular crown to the series with Fugitive Telemetry as a fun side romp outside the main arc#System Collapse as a sequel to Network Effect just doesn’t… work#yap yap#murderbot#system collapse spoilers#system collapse#like. there IS room for more after NE! i preordered this book not least bc i was RABID! FOR MORE THREE!!!#a relationship between MB and another free secunit!! hewwo?????? we’ve had bots and humans BUT NOW ANKTHER SECUNIT#THE PEOPLE MB HAS THE MOST FUCKIN ISSUES AROUND!!!#ITSELF!!! INGROUP!!! THERES DELICIOUS FRUIT HERE CMON#MARTHA CAN YOU HEAR ME??? MARTHA????#god. time to reread the entire series again from scratch
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People are saying the “ new” Collector is better because now he’s more than a kid with too much power. Personally I always thought the seeming contrast between physical and mental age was intentional, if the Collector could even be measured by human metrics. But whatever, I actually do find the “ kid with too much power” concept interesting with how it could mirror Luz and Philip’s journeys.
At the start of the series Luz viewed the Isles through a fantasy book setting and her arc was her learning that the Isles wasn’t like that, it was its whole own separate place with its own rules and culture. Those who lived there were just like her and that her actions there hold heavy, real life consequences. Luz reached these conclusions with help of the positive influences around her. If Eda, King, Hooty, Gus, and Willow hadn’t been there for her, if she had been left to fend for herself, I think Luz would had drawn different conclusions.
Philip, on the other hand, couldn't separate the Boiling Isles from the Bible stories he was told and the tales of witches that were spread in his village. He also was forced to wander and fend for himself in the Isles alone from a relatively young age. Someone Philip had previously turned to for guidance was now going against everything he’d ever taught him, it must’ve been like the cautionary tales they both would have been told about. Obviously Philip was very negatively influenced by his surroundings and the people within them. But recently, at least, there’s been a shift in thinking. Maybe it was from seeing the human realm and how it changed but it’s obvious through Philip’s interaction with “ Caleb” and " the Grimwalkers" that he does doubt the legitimacy of the stories he’d been told and thus his own beliefs. With his plan and his confidence in it falling apart, so does Belos’s body.
The Collector I thought had no influence in contrast to the both of them. Going back to how the Collector was said to be THE child of stars and not star people, the Collector would hypothetically have nothing to watch over them, no set goals or expectations, left in the cold and uncaring universe they were created from. Lacking any reference, they’d just treat the Isles as a form of entertainment, something to explore and play with. What else would it be? In doing so the Collector caused irreversible harm to its inhabitants through the Titans. But nobody bothered to explain anything to them, he was locked away harshly instead.
But now turns out he’s also a victim of negative influence via “ bad Collectors” ( weird for Dana to portray almost the majority of a whole species as bad ™ when she’s refrained from doing that for all the other species, isn’t that mindset the same as Belos’s) and it’s implied the Collector didn’t hurt the Titans at all. He’s STILL is a kid with power, despite what others may say, but just a less interesting version that brings nothing new to the conversation. I didn’t want him to be meant to be same as others, I wanted him to not be meant to be anything.
But I’ll be satisfied if the Collector does what Belos never did: grow up. I want them to realize their actions are part of a perpetual cycle and that while he recognizes they were negatively influenced by a lot of forces he also did a lot of fucked up shit of their own violation. I want him to pinkie promise King they will play again but they’re not ready yet to be his friend. I want the Collector to hold himself responsible even if other characters don’t, even if the fandom won't. It won’t be fun but it what he wants to do.
(Shock, I know because me not wanting the Collector’s more negative qualities to be retconned or ignored clearly means I want them tortured and killed. I want them to be redeemed and I expected him to be from the start but I’m not happy in doing so that Dana and co took away what made them so interesting to me in the first place.)
#long post#long ass post#noelle's rants#the owl house#owl house#toh#the collector#the owl house the collector#owl house the collector#toh the collector#luz noceda#the owl house luz#owl house luz#toh luz#emperor belos#the owl house emperor belos#owl house emperor belos#toh emperor belos#philip wittebane#the owl house philip wittebane#owl house philip wittebane#toh philip wittebane#toh critical#toh criticism#tw torture mention#torture mention#opinion post#rant into the void
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I swear i am not being critical or contradictory. I've just been brainwashed by people who stand to gain the most from my ignorance. But can you explain anarchy to a person that's been told it would cause more crime. Or cite some sources I can research, cause I'm certain
Got this question a long time ago but I'm still gonna answer because I have so much to say about it. Keep in mind English isn't my first language.
Well, I'm not a politics or economics expert at all, I'm just a guy who's really into observing the world around me and thinking too much about it. Some of my ideas came from reading philosophy books, my favorite ones being Plato and Nietzsche. One book that I liked and you might wanna read is "Anarchist Communism - Its Basis and Principles" by Kropotkin. Still my main source for what I'm about to say is my own brain.
Also, anarchy isn't a single mindset all anarchists agree on. Every anarchist has their own version in their mind, the point in common being lack of a government. So I can explain my own version of anarchy based on my personal set of thoughts.
First of all, anarchy can't cause more crime. Because crime just... wouldn't exist, since there wouldn't be a law. Crime is a construct, which can be easily proven by the fact that each country considers different things as crimes. If crimes were actually absolute, then folding in half your leader's picture would always get you the death sentence, no matter where you are. Still you can't say it's not a crime, because it's indeed a crime in North Korea.
So, crimes wouldn't exist. But if we called them crimes anyway, then obviously crimes would happen. Still, is crime really that bad? And there's no absolute answer to this, it all depends on your own priorities, what you think is most important for us as a society.
Some people think the most important thing is unconditional progress. Then capitalism and even dictatorship are actually very efficient! Until this progress gets so fast that humans can't catch up, economic growth matters more than the planet we live in, technology fills too much of our lives. We feel part of something greater but we're actually controlled by that something. And I'm sure everyone who puts progress first, who is obsessed with efficiency, deep down knows something is wrong.
For me personally, anarchy can be defined as putting our humanity before everything else. And humanity is also freedom, which does include freedom to not work, to feel feelings, to take it slow, to do drugs, to steal, to kill... You're free to do anything considered crimes! That's really bad, right?
Well, not really. Here's a few reasons.
1. We're already free to do crimes! It might sound crazy but think about it: would crimes happen if we weren't free to do them? But they happen all the time. The difference is that right now we have to either be careful with the evidence we leave behind, accept the consequence of our action and go to jail, or be rich and not worry about any of this.
2. Most crimes don't make sense if there's no government and no private property. How do you steal something if everything is yours but also everyone else's? The idea is wild to think about, I know, property is very important to us in this society. But it can and will change, just like we figured out that slaves aren't a property, wives aren't a property, our planet isn't a property, or knowledge isn't a property.
3. What about murder? What about crazy people who do huge, crazy things? These would still exist, obviously. But it doesn't justify the police's existence. Because in an anarchist society, justice is also held by the people. There's no police letting murderers go because they're rich, there are actual people with actual need for justice, which isn't less scary. Also crazy people do crazy things mostly because society doesn't help them. This is my own belief but in an anarchist society, where we're allowed to be human and we help each other, we'd all have less mental issues and more reciprocal care.
This is a lot for sure, so take your time and just live your life, but start being careful of the things that keep happening around you. You might find that justice isn't as absolute as you thought :)
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The Bittersweet Flight
Warning: contains gore, blood, murder, vomit, mentions of suicide and drugs...yeah, I guess I got everything covered.
This picture was in one of my school books, I wrote this short story with it in mind. Hope you enjoy it ;)
Beth's father, John, was still sitting in his office when she got home. It was already past midnight, but after so many nights watching his daughter sneak out of the house and not giving any explanations by the next day, he gave up trying to stop her from leaving.
He earned all of the house’s chores after his husband, Michael, died in a sudden accident. A fire that spread through their old flat fast enough to leave nothing but his ashes behind, and a poor scared baby who survived by a miracle. The whole thing was never really explained by anyone, though John had a small hunch about it. He knew about his dear one’s condition, but he never expected Michael to actually take his life like that, especially while Beth was still inside their home.
None of these facts ever left John’s head, and his job had been consuming more of his time with each passing day since things at the office he worked at were not going smoothly. With so many worries and doubts about the past and the future, he had his reasons for sparing his mind from a rebellious daughter’s behavior, which was starting to irritate him a bit.
As for Beth, she knew about her father's situation. She did care about the fact she never got to meet her other father, Michael, except through photographs, and there were not many left. As for his job, its consequences began to be shown at home, with cheaper products on the shelves, and some second-hand furniture replacing those that were being sold. But she didn’t mind about it.
She had her own concerns, as any being who starts to understand how living works. Her sophomore year of school was terrible, filled with fake friendships that carved knife after knife on her back. But the tears in the hidden corners of the school were very real, and her passion for dreamy boy Bryan Wood, that sucker, that was real too. Her actions in their relationship, the kisses she gave, the words she declared, they were as real as the ground beneath her feet, but who ever said so were his?
Beth did not have great expectations for her next and last year of high school. She felt so stressed that it became a routine for her to go out of the house in the dead of night, and head to the same alley, where in exchange for some money from her allowance, she would get her those precious "sweets" that could numb her mind and stun her problems, causing them to look smaller. It was supposed to be just once, but after the first taste of what peace felt like in a lifetime, she couldn’t find the strength to stop anymore.
Who cared if she became thinner within weeks? Who cared if one of her teeth fell off last Tuesday? Who the fuck cared if her smile had cracks around her mouth? Not her, nor her friends, nor Bryan, and certainly not her father, the one who was always too busy looking at that stupid computer screen.
As you may have noticed, none of them talked openly about lack of money or any other of their headaches, and therefore, this incomprehension resulted in more and more frequent arguments at home. No matter how big Beth's problems were, they would always seem inferior to her father’s, and vice versa.
Both knew what they wanted the most. They wanted things to change. A transformation in their lives, whatever it would turn out to be, coming from one of them, or from an external action. At least on this matter, both could fully agree.
Beth walked past her father's office, which still had its light on, flickering once in a while. She didn’t even announce her return, as she walked straight into the bathroom as fast as her brain could allow her.
After undressing and discarding her clothes in one of the bathroom’s corners, she went into the shower box to let the water wash away any impurities that might have entered the house with her. With each new trance, a new mark would appear on her body later. Bites, bruises, signs that made her wonder where they had come from, and the most obvious answer have always made her sick.
After finishing her quick bath, she reached for the towel hanging outside the shower box and began to dry herself off. She wrapped the towel around her chest, which a new purple painful mark was closer to, and took her phone from the sink to check how much battery it still had left. There were no messages on the lock screen, of course. She could barely remember the last time it had any.
She was prepared to open the door and quickly go to her room where she could finally go to sleep.
That was when something caught her eye.
Right in the corner of the bathroom where she threw her clothes, part of her thin soaked blue blouse had begun to move up and down repeatedly, at a desperate pace. A shiver went down Beth’s spine, though it didn’t seem she had anything to be worried about yet.
The movements didn't stop, but it was moving now. A volume stirred under the fabric, and it was almost reaching the end of the waistband of the blouse. Beth watched its path closely, speculating what it could possibly be. Her doubt was resolved when a brown moth finally emerged from under her blouse.
Disgust invaded her head at the thought of coming home with a moth touching her skin. Of course, it was not a harmful creature, but in her defense, the feeling of small and furry paws grazing her body was quite uncomfortable. The small insect stood still on the floor, but when Beth motioned to grab one of her snickers while she was standing, brownish wings flapped, and the creature rose off the ground, flying nonstraight towards Beth.
Startled by the sudden action, the girl got out of the moth's path and ran into the box again with her cell phone still in her hands, closing the glass door behind her. She thought the insect would disorient itself in the bathroom light, and soon be on the floor again, but instead, the moth flew straight into the shower stall, pressing its body against the glass.
Beth studied the appearance of the insect. The body was covered in yellowish hair, the paws thick enough to be replaced by fuzzy keys, and the wings brown as dry leaves. But something was different, something she hadn’t noticed before was now being shown. There were two white ellipses on the moth’s larger wings, which now seen up close, resembled eyes with black iris.
The fear and repulsion were greater than her desire to leave the safety of the box, so Beth took another route. Figuring her father should still be in the office, she turned on her cell phone and texted him.
Dad, there’s a moth outside the bathroom box. Can you please come and kill it?
00:28
Dad seriously, it’s freaking me out
00:30
Dad, c’mon I know you are with your phone
00:31
Dad
00:31
Dad!
00:32
The answer came not so long after the last message.
Daddy flew. Come join me
-Moth
00:33
Just as she was about to write that it wasn't funny, the screen went dark. Her phone had gone out of battery.
Having no other options, Beth began to call out or John:
“Dad...Dad! Come help me! There’s a moth in the bathroom! Dad, c’mon, you know I don’t like insects…I’m freaking out!...DAD!”
Nothing.
A few minutes had passed since she last shouted, and all Beth could do was to stare at the moth, who was still glued to the bathroom box’s glass, like it had died there. The situation was infuriating. If her father wanted to teach her a lesson, and this turned out to be a good way to do it, it’d be such a low blow.
She came closer to the glass and slapped it, but the moth didn’t even flinch.
Her next words were quieter than before, rage on every syllable.
“Disgusting son of a bi-“
This time, a sound came from the door. The doorknob turned once to the left, once to the right, and stopped. Beth watched silently, and then suddenly, there was a loud click as the doorknob turned all the way to the right, and the door opened in a thin opening.
Strangely, this time, the moth left the glass of the shower box and clumsily passed through the door that was left ajar, leaving a trail of yellowish dust on its path.
Beth hesitated for a long time before leaving the box. What she knew was: an insect had emerged from her clothes, though she didn’t feel anything while walking home; someone opened the door, and it was not her father, because she knew he would knock first. And she was pretty sure she had locked it before getting undressed too.
She was too disturbed to want to put on her clothes considering the size of the insect that just came out of them, so she wrapped herself in the towel, with her curly short hair still dripping water, and left the bathroom, not bothering to turn off the light.
The hallway’s light was usually white and boring, but the first thing Beth noticed was that now it was orange, and a little brownish, like the Centennial Light Bulb she had to read an article about for a school project, but the glow was just as strong as before, letting it illuminate and paint the walls with its colors.
The hesitation on each step was so strong now that not even Beth was recognizing herself. All she had to do was go to the office, but now that simple task seemed to be tiled with red-hot coals.
Still, she went.
She had almost reached the end of the hall when she started to hear another sound. It was not an isolated sound, it seemed that a set of papers were being shaken together to build an out-of-step symphony, subtle and constant, with the world’s smallest drums setting the pace. A small creature, a moth, came around the hallway and attached itself to the wall. Beth couldn't help but notice the resemblance this moth bore to the one that had frightened her back in the bathroom.
A few more steps and she finally arrived at her destination...but instead of seeing her father sitting in his office chair, all she saw was an empty chair, and an orange light on the ceiling, which also was once white.
She turned her head slightly when she felt something touching her shoulder. It was another, smaller, butterfly. She quickly used her hand to brush it away. That was when she finally saw the living room, which was opposite the office. Its light bulb was white still.
John was there, not sitting on the couch, but lying face down on the floor, with a dozen moths walking over his body.
“DAD!”
Beth ran towards her father's body, scaring off some moths that immediately flew away. When she turned him over, she saw his face covered in moth fur, with scratches on his cheeks, forehead, and nose. His eyes were upturned in their sockets. The sudden movement caused his mouth to open, since his body's reflexes could not contain it anymore. Under the skin of his throat, a mass began to move upward, like it happened with Beth’s blouse. It went up, and up, and up, until two blood-soaked butterflies crawled out of his mouth, and then dropped to the ground, their wings now too heavy to fly.
Horror washed over Beth’s expression as she released her father's body with a cry. Not even the impact was able to pull a response from the man. Life had already left his flesh long before his daughter had sent the first text.
When the truth finally caught up with Beth, she placed a hand over her mouth, and a painful scream echoed from her throat as she dropped to her knees on the floor. Hot tears flooded her vision, and her hiccups filled the house. The situation could not be processed any differently.
One of the moths that was startled by her arrival started to climb up to the back of her neck. When the girl felt its little paws, she clapped both hands on her back, trying to get rid of the damn tiny creature.
“I think she likes you...”
Even the girl’s tears stopped falling. She had never heard that voice before.
She moved her head very slowly in the direction the voice was coming from, which would be from an armchair across the room beside a lamp on a small table.
Someone was sitting on it. A man, with his head resting on his hand. He wore a knee-length coat, pointy black shoes, and white gloves on his hands. He wore a brownish top hat, and a blond messy braid ran down his left shoulder. His face was covered by a brown scarf with white stripes. His eyes were barely visible behind it.
“Who... who are you?” It was almost impossible to hear Beth's question.
“Who am I?” He lifted his head “No one...for many...but for you and your father, I am what you have been waiting for”
“W-What…What did you do to my father?!” She got up trembling, and the moth that was tangled up in her hair flew to join her sisters in the air “You bastard, it was you! Motherfucker!”
The audacity of using such tone against a stranger in her house spoke louder than the fear of a possible murderer standing right in front of her.
“Oh, my child…” He continued sweetly “...but it was not me who brought this fate upon your father. I am as guilty for your father not be breathing any more as I am for the end of spring...Your father just followed the course he craved”
“This is ridiculous! My father had never wanted to die” She had reasons to believe it “You killed him you sick fuck!”
Beth ran towards the man with her hands down her front. Her fingers were thirsty for that intruder's throat.
But before she could reach him, the man rose abruptly, and from inside his coat, hundreds of brown moths came out and began to fly through every corner of the living room.
The terrible symphony that had been heard from the hallway was now repeated, louder and more terrible. The last lamp in the house had now taken on a golden glow, and it drew the poor creatures into its treacherous light, which then fell to the ground. They all had the same chestnut wings, but something odd seemed to be happening to each of them. If Beth followed the path of one, she would see the ellipses on the wings, but soon enough it would fade away, just to be seen in another different butterfly.
Beth immediately backed away and watched in terror the result of the trick she had just witnessed. Goosebumps ran through her body as more and more moths flew and landed on the walls and furniture, leaving dust trails. None of them landed on her.
“Beautiful, aren't they?” The man reached for a cane that rested beside the armchair he was sitting on “They have been playing their part for all these years”
A little moth landed gracefully on a hand he stretched out, and she started walking over the palm, then his arm, his shoulder, until it finally hid in the safety of her tamer's scarf.
Beth cling harder to the towel as she began to question if she wasn't dreaming. Soon she would wake up from this hallucination in an alley or at a hospital, and her father would lecture her for acting so recklessly, and then he would take her home, and she would promise not to go out at night, not buy any more drugs, and she would never start fights with him again. She would do anything to get out of this nightmare.
“Nightmare… it's a nightmare… it's a nightmare… it's a nightmare” She repeated over and over as she backed away. Without realizing where she was going, she ended up tripping over the leg of her father's corpse and falling to the ground.
The man walked slowly towards her.
“If this is a nightmare to you, then it must be the most enchanting nightmare a human can get the pleasure of having”
“You are a monster” She whispered before speaking louder through hiccups “...a monster!” Somehow, that comment seemed to deeply upset the man.
"Don't refer to me that way" He said, stopping on his tracks and putting both hands onto the ball on top of the cane.
“So...who...w-what are you?” She asked in a shaky voice.
“I am a messenger” He gestured as if saying a basic fact “I believe you could call me a ‘delivery man’. I advertise, and I carry what the miserable and the disaffected, and every single people desire the most...change. This is what I deliver to the homes of the afflicted, this is what I proclaim to those with good eyesight. And it is what I came to deliver to you and your father tonight” He gestured to the body covered with dust.
“W-What? How could this be what you came to give us?! You killed my father you maniac!”
Again, the man flinched, but did not lose his temper as he proceeded:
“Don’t you realize? This was the change he wanted so much...a change that actually might have started long, longer than you can imagine.”
Beth's lips trembled as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks once again. She looked down at her father's swooning body, who had his face turned towards her, butterflies patting their wings lightly and settling into his mouth and ears.
It was at this point that all the anguish and disgust surged through her throat, and she turned her head to the ground before she vomited. There was no more anger, it wouldn't make sense to feel it now, for all that was left were her tears, and now there was also the taste of bile in her mouth and an acidic and disgusting liquid on the floor, where more butterflies were bathing.
Beth fought the urge to throw up again at the sight.
“I don't blame you. Changes can be hard to digest” The man continued, playing with his blonde braid as he laughed at his own joke.
The girl lifted her pitying gaze to the scarfed figure that covered the yellow light behind him, darkening his silhouette.
“What change... what change did he want?” She knew the end of the dream would come with her death, so it would be a good thing to sort things out before.
Crouching beside her, the moth tamer whispered:
“One that would stop all the others. Just think about it…John Coulton left his home at the age of 16 after he assumed to his parents and grandfather he was catching feelings for one of his fellow boy friends. Five years later, there were more changes. By far, he was someone who gave my precious friends a hard work. But after the 4th of may, 17 years ago, he made a wish…he begged for something…” He tapped a finger against one temple “…though it was unconsciously”.
May, the 4th. The date of the fire. Michael’s suicide day.
“John Coulton got seriously tired of changes. Things seemed to be going according to plan, and then suddenly, they were not. Out of track situations began to distaste him so much, that if he couldn’t speak up what he wanted, his mind did…” The man stood up and stretched out his arms “…and the right ones heard it”
Beth no longer knew if she was breathing. Deep down she understood how melancholic her father was, but she never thought he would have this kind of desire. She didn't want to accept this, or any of what was happening here. Clinging to the hope that she was still dreaming, she tried, to get to her feet, but almost immediately fell back to her knees on the dusty floor, crushing one of the moths.
“Oh you poor thing…” The man took her by the elbows and lifted her off the ground, crouching down only to pick up the remains of the crushed moth “…nothing seems to make sense to you yet, so let me explain one last time”
Letting go of Beth's elbow, the man gently placed the butterfly in his hand on the arm of the sofa, where others came to rest in a kind of vigil for their dead sister.
“It's very simple actually” He began, tapping the tip of his cane on the floor, making a sound against it. “To climb every one of the steps of life requires much more than willpower. Life itself is not made of just that. No. It mainly requires change, and the courage to face it” His face turns to the lamp on the ceiling with the same fascination of an insect “…to abhor the concept of transformation is to abhor the growth of a person. To deny this is to deny its essence. Denying change is the same as denying life. That's why when someone wants the changes to stop, it's the same as wanting to stop living.”
"My dad didn't want this..." Beth replied, doing her best to make herself audible while wondering if it would be possible to wake up with a pinch on the arm, or if running out the door would be more efficient "...he was just... .tired” The girl took two awkward steps towards the door, still keeping her body facing the man who was still staring at the light.
“A tiredness that would last longer than the world could afford. This stagnation is an offense to us. And yet we were merciful, we came to grant John's wish.” Turning his head halfway to Beth's side, he calmly completed his sentence, “…just as we have come to grant yours.”
Beth froze in place.
"So…you are going to kill me too, right?" Reality was finally starting to hit Beth like a hammer hits an anvil. A constant movement that alternated between an ascent of ignorance and a descent of realization.
“We are not murderers Beth” The man approached, his cane tapping in time with his steps “We are the natural order of things. We are what reaches every being that breathes and alters the course of the air. We are what made many lock their doors because they thought we couldn't get in." Merely inches from where Beth was, he stopped, and all the moths suddenly ceased their trajectories, landing in every corner of the room except on the man and the girl.
An agonizing silence settled in the atmosphere of the house with the absence of the sound of butterflies flying.
The girl couldn’t feel the man’s breath through the scarf, but she could see his eyes. Completely white eyes, except for the black iris.
“We are the ignored, but always remembered. We are the union of all the will that each being has to achieve peace. We are undeviating and eternal...” The man slowly rose one of his white-gloved hands ”…we are the ultimate change”
The moths each lifted their wings, as if in an attack position. It was hostile in a charming way.
“It's time to fly, Beth” And just like that, the man snapped his fingers.
All the moths took flight in perfect harmony, forming a single circle around Beth, who was not trembling so much anymore. On the contrary, she found herself mesmerized by the swirl of wings around her. A longing began to form in her core as Beth let the towel fall from her body. She wanted to join them and dance this winged dance that seemed to be filled with peace. Looking up, the yellow bulb that was noticeable in the eye of that tornado seemed more beautiful and radiant than the sun.
Beth didn't care about anything but the soft sound of the moths and that holy light. She didn't care when the little paws of the moths brushed her bare skin, for now, she saw herself floating in the air, in the middle of that paradise. She didn't care when the bugs entered her ears and her mouth, opened in admiration. She could feel the butterflies crawling through her larynx, fighting the flow of blood in her arteries to reach her heart, and their wings beating in her stomach, but nothing else seemed to be as worthy of attention as that sensation of walking towards the light, leaving all her troubles and her wounds behind.
At some point, Beth realized what was about to happen, but she didn't try to do anything to stop the process. It would all be over soon, and she would feel no pain.
It was a delicious bittersweet thought.
The last moths left Beth's body, wings soaked in blood. The girl's eyes were rolled up in their sockets, and her mouth was open in a small slit from where the six-legged ballerinas were coming out, just like the human ones do after their performances. In pain in every part of their bodies and probably with some broken parts, but satisfied with the show they had delivered.
The Moth Man had sat waiting for the show to end, and now some of his loyal dancers were crawling to meet him. He picked one up by the wings and whispered softly to it:
“Excellent work as always, my darlings”
The man finally got up and went to the other rooms in the house, looking for the main power switch. When he found it, all the lights in the house were turned off, except for the one in the living room, which still glowed a faint yellowish hue.
That meant that his duty was done for the night. There was only one thing left to be done.
The Moth Man stood between the two bodies and proclaimed in the voice of a priest to his loyal believers:
“And thus the final change was made
The day sets with morbid grace
The night welcomes you in her embrace
The blood and the flesh are left at ease
The soul makes its way to conquer peace
And while the smell of what rots silences your despair
A bittersweet song is left in the air”
#horror story#short horror story#short story#original story#things get messy#like#in a fucked up way I think
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2 cents thoughts and goals.
Self Note.
Did alot of diggin on my brain today and boy.. there's a whole lot of work to do. Its f ugly. But lets take things slowly. Progression, consistency, patience and lots of practice is key. Keep going.
I'm gonna write the ugly sides of me which I'm slowly realising that there is a underlying toxic pattern.
How I am like as a person from the past till today -
Number 1: Emotionally Immature
I officially admit that I am clearly an emotionally immature person. [ I wish I realise it sooner and what was the actual true meaning behind it. Finally seen it for my ownself through myself lol]
Core reasons: I'm living life through fear and anxiousness. Fear of not being successful, fear of not being the best daughter, partner or a friend. Fear of not being good enough in anything that I do. Fear of abandonment. Fear of not looking good enough. Fear with almost everything. Basically, no trust in myself and living life with no trust in it. Always thinking life is out to get me. When people give compliments, I usually think that they're lying or just tryna make me feel better. wtf
Number 2: Selfish
Only thinking about what's good for my own benefits and not others. Not thinking about what others might feel after making a comment or a decision. Self entitled.
Number 3: Reacting first to emotions instead of taking accountability of my own emotions. (Fail to think before talking)
Anger - I would usually first react to the situation without thinking about the consequences that comes after. Spit venoms all over and get caught with the emotions in my brain. Showing emotions through facial expressions. Taking time away to cool down before thinking straight. Regretting it all after cooling down.
Disappointment: When something or someone disappoints me, ngl, I will show a very black face that people will get uncomfortable. Throw tantrum like a child. Won't talk until I've cooled down or finally got something that I want - (which co-relate to selfishness and self entitlement)
Annoyed - When I'm annoyed, I will show it through my face like an open book or either show it through my facial expressions plus reacting to my emotions and saying mean stuff without thinking twice. Also throwing tantrum.
Goals and Reminders to self:
-just me talking to my old self-
Don't blame your parents entirely for having this upbringing upon you. If you don't wanna be like them, BREAK the cycle. Practice self awareness: be mindful of your thoughts and emotions. Take time to reflect on your feelings and understand why I feel the way I did.
Managing my thoughts and emotions: You're an over thinker but not all the things you overthink about are true. Most of the time NONE of them are true. Don't give in to those thoughts. It will break you. DISTRACT. Prolly go back gymming, play games, listening to rock metal songs if you're angry. Got bicycle? Use it, cycle to take your mind off things and calm yourself with the beauty of nature. Manage your emotions. Do whatever it takes to take your minds off things. Make yourself feel better. If its still bothering you, comfort your inner child. Ask yourself what is the main cause of making you feel a certain type of way and figure it out from there.
Be more empathetic. Practice putting yourself in their shoes and consider their perspective. I'm pretty damn sure in some situations you wouldn't like it if the other party does the same to you.
I cant stress this enough but to be able to learn how to express yourself clearly and respectfully and listen ACTIVELY to others. Stop mindfucking others pls. get to the f point. tolong. takmo jadi annoying. And lastly you have to take full accountability and responsibility of your own actions. Own up, being a coward gets you nowhere. Stop blaming others or find excuses just to not get your ass whipped. Learn from it.
Stop being a complain queen. Start seeing the beauty in life. Learn acceptance, patience, trust and self control + self love.
END.
These things takes a lot of time and effort. Its a freaking journey. I'm definitely not proud of who I am in the past but inshaallah I'll get better. I'll be better. Just have a lot of patience with yourself and focus on making small positive change every single day. You can do this alright? You got this.
You wouldn't wanna lose this one. Not over your old dumb foolish ways.
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nothing comes without a consequence or cost . // wanna try the baby rina ft. crys au .............. ?
@crxstallium
The snowflake watches the goddess of spring with a strange quietness, rationality pacing in her head as golden eyes scan the woman in front of her. Crystal Slevant has always taken care of her despite memories not being exactly present. It makes no sense if she did not know her mother or did not know her in the past, even words spoken now sound like premonitions or... lessons learned, the lessons that caused those purple eyes to dull for a moment as if she was recalling an awfully terrible experience that made her remain where she is today. Is it rude of her to question this sincerity and this warmth that she receives from the one who keeps her safe and guarded, even teaching her how to wield her powers?
“ I know, ” Zarina responds with a steady conviction. Is it not the truth of life? Even as a child, there has to be cost for everything and a consequence to many of choices done. Only certain people can do everything without consequences and, even then, the consequences will come back to bite them in the ass. It comes as no surprise for her as eyes of ichor watches the amethysts with unyielding steadfast attention. “ It would be stupid to think of anything else. Everything has a cost and a consequence to go with it. If it wasn’t true, then the world would’ve died out sooner. Though, some prices are not paid by the ones doing the action but by those who tried to stop said action. That’s the way of life. ” But this is how the world works, the kid already knows.
“ You have to be smarter than everyone else to succeed. That’s why... I’ll become smarter, stronger, and better, Crystal, ” she gives a confident nod, closing the book that laid on her lap. The complicated books of physics, anatomy, psychology and more have been read and studied by a girl at the age of eleven as she would skim through them and understand the books far easier, but also understand that she has no knowledge of doing something; thus, hoping to grow up faster. This warmth and this patience Slevant always shows her, she wants to repay it and also protect her. Their bond never shattered, even without any emotions and in this tiny body, Sokolova may wonder if she should question Crystal’s intentions but it always comes down to fully trusting the other and wishing to ease her burden. “ I’ll do whatever it takes to become stronger and... protect you, too. I will pay any consequence and any price to protect both myself and you, so you won’t have to ... worry or look at me like that. ”
This woman is her family, she won’t be sitting back and just let the world kick them around. No, Crystal proves she won’t let the world do anything to her for there is fierceness inside of her like storms that could take on the mightiest gods. This is why she tries to control the ice and the freezing, the frigid abilities that still make her feel a bit intimidated and even scared... scared that she will freeze from the inside, but Slevant’s hand on her shoulder always remind her: it’s alright, it’s a part of you. This support brings serenity and the sight of Crystal’s eyes brings salvation to a girl so young.
“ You sometimes look at me as if... You already lost me. I won’t let that happen. So, don’t look so sad and get yourself your favorite chocolate cake. I made sure we stocked up on that yesterday, ” the girl acts all too mature and smart for her age without any smirks or playful attitudes. She is frigid, she is cold, but with Crystal she is caring in her own way and it’s seen in the way her gaze is soft despite its intensity. Without glancing at the other again, the silver-haired girl gets off the couch with a heavy tome under her armpit as she walks towards the door out of the living room to go to the kitchen. “ The price for us taking a break might be me needing more time to study, but the consequence of you getting something you like is better than the price I need to pay. ” If it makes you happy, I will make sure you get it.
#CRIES LOUDLY THIS AU WILL HURT US SO BAD#crxstallium#❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.
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Chrome’s shadowgast fic rec list, vol 1
Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own obsession with wizards. I might make another one of these eventually if y’all keep churning out absolute bangers, but in the meantime, here is a list of my top Shadowgast fic recs.
One rule here: I’m limiting this to one fic per author--but many people on this list have a broader oeuvre you should definitely check out.
Your disclaimer: this is not a full literature review, but rather my personal favorites. Caveat lector!
* = fic is rated M or E
sleeping in the shadow of an other self by nonwal | @nonwal
Essek has a moment to consider that gravity-based trust exercises have never worked for him, and then the spell hits. He leans back into it, falls, falls.
(In which Essek is resurrected by the Mighty Nein and framed for innocence.)
Okay, listen. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out. There’s a reason it’s at the top of the list. 30k of absolutely phenomenal characterization of not only Shadowgast but all the M9 and the coolest plot to ever plot. Not only a fantastic first read, but a phenomenal re-read as well.
multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance by mousecookie | @ariadne-mouse
Caleb takes a step forward and stumbles. As he catches himself he realizes something very odd. His hands are shadowy and translucent. His whole body is a shadow, in fact. If he holds his palm up to the sky, he can see the stars twinkling faintly through it.
Sharp talons of panic dig into his chest. He feels solid - if he grabs his own wrist, he has mass, but it is wrong. Everything is wrong. What is happening?
Prepare Fireball, commands a voice in his head.
The voice is familiar.
It takes him a moment to realize it’s familiar because it’s his.
An absolutely fabulous pre-relationship fic, written before the end of the show but you wouldn’t know it from how perfectly it nails the dynamic. Ariadne has written a ton of other fabulous Shadowgast fics and I encourage you to read them all--I’m just limiting this list to one fic per author to try and cover more ground.
Great Minds by bluebirdsongs
Essek uses more high-level dunamancy in battle, and Caleb tries to reverse-engineer it when he can't sleep.
AKA What if we were both wizards and I cast Tether Essence on us to save your life?
This is a gorgeous fic, both for how it handles Caleb and Essek’s conversation--with profound deftness--and for the treatment of magic-as-math. A beautiful exploration of both dunamancy and Caleb and Essek.
to make a cradle of your palm* by renquise
Essek offers Caleb his spellbook, open to the page of a new spell.
As Caleb suspected, his adaptation of Essek's gravity spell was different in its conception, for all that the result was the same. The architecture of this similar spell speaks of a different thought process, a different set of basic assumptions. It is beautifully engineered, efficient in its use of components and energy: a simple spell requiring only a length of silk thread and yet capable of reaching over a great distance and causing great damage, if applied with intent to harm.
“If you would like, you can, ah. You may—" Essek gestures at his own throat, a quick, inelegant spread of fingers. "Test the application of pressure that the spell exerts."
It takes Caleb a moment to register what Essek is proposing. He is a delicate speaker, as always.
Oh man, this one just goes for the jugular (ha) in the most perfect way. The prose here, like everything renquise writes, is absolutely masterful, and the tension between Caleb and Essek is exquisitely rendered.
fist-fighting with fire just to get close to you by kaeda | @the-kaedageist
Caleb caught Essek’s eye across the dome, and Essek returned his small smile. “It would seem that it is trickier than expected to keep things on a…private channel,” Essek thought at him.
“Unfortunately,” Caleb replied.
“Unfortunately for all of us,” Fjord interjected.
(Spoilers for campaign 2, episode 138)
Kate has a fabulous gift for getting the Mighty Nein’s voices exactly right, and this fic is no exception. This takes the hive mind/telepathy of the eyes to its hilarious, heart-warming, logical conclusion and it’s an absolute joy to read.
(perhaps i may) elaborate by demonstration* by marsastronomica | @marsastronomica
After the second fight, they rest again. There’s still time left in the day, and they may as well push as far as they can. Essek and Caleb find time between action to talk. And negotiate.
This one is an absolute banger. The flirting! The tension! The incredible intense game of chicken that Essek and Caleb are playing this whole fic...it’s amazing, you can hear the dialogue in their voices, this is another one that I read and then had to tell everyone about. And now I’m telling you about. Go read it, it kicks ass.
I’ve been lost before (and I’m lost again, I guess)* by toneofjoy
Caleb has plans to take down his old coaches. Essek has secrets. They climb rocks, make new friends, explore professional boundaries, learn about consequences, and maybe even fall in love. It’s the Shadowgast climbing AU.
AUs can be a tough sell for me, but this one’s not. Half the joy in this is the fabulously vivid world that is built by the author who absolutely knows the ins and outs of competitive climbing and expertly shares it with the reader. The other half is the beautiful growing relationship between Caleb and Essek, which is a consistent joy to read. It’s still a WIP, but I promise it’s worth reading along.
the other things that make us* by saturday_sky | @saturdaysky
Essek returns, when he can, to the sanctuary of Caleb's home. The peace of it is a balm against the tedious peril of the road, which has more misery to share than Essek had ever thought. It's nice to have a place where he can lose himself: in a book, in arcane study, in the confusing allure of Caleb's smile.
It's nice. And the cats miss him, Caleb says.
[First chapter is a complete story. Second chapter will be a follow-up epilogue to it.]
This one hurts in the best possible way. I can’t highlight my favorite bits without giving it away, but the emotional beats of this absolutely beautiful post-canon fic are top-notch and the reveal of information is perfectly executed.
darkness to me is only water to the sea by treeviality
Essek knows how his story ends. There is a place in Rexxentrum where executions are carried out, wooden steps leading up to a wooden platform. There hangs a noose, swaying lightly in northern wind, while polished cobblestones shine bright in golden light.
There will be birds, Essek imagines, and when the lever is pulled and gravity takes hold of him one last time, he hopes they take flight.
This now-AU take on Essek being arrested is lyrical and beautiful and the author has a tremendous grasp of language and also how to rip your heart straight out of your chest and then gently replace it.
---
And, if you’re still looking for fic, I have a few, but one of my favorites is:
we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome
In the last fight with the Tombtakers, Essek Thelyss bends reality to keep them all alive and pays the price. As he copes with the aftereffects of his own magic and the party takes the long journey back to the surface, Essek and Caleb finally confront what they are to each other.
or,
Five times Essek woke up with level(s) of exhaustion and one time he didn't.
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BRUTAL
pairings: female reader x best friend!jungwon
summary: they told you that these were the golden years, but to you "golden" was a rusting metal spray painted yellow. the story of a seventeen year old trying to survive high school when all you do is try your best. but your best friend jungwon makes it worth the while.
genre: high school au, friends to lovers, fluff, tiny bits of angst if you squint, attempt at humour
featuring: jang wonyoung, kim sunoo & nishimura riki
word count: 4.5k
warnings: reader having a existential crisis most of the time, strong language, mentions of insecurity
the sour series masterlist
You slumped forward the moment the bell rang, letting your head hit the table. You could care less if a bruise would form on your forehead, you had much bigger things to worry about. Your teacher left the class wordlessly as the class was busy doing their own thing. And by that, everyone was buried nose deep in studying. You lifted your head to see the different books of the same topic scattered on your desk, a yellow highlighter balancing on the edge of your table.
Reaching over to grab the highlighter, you turned your head over to the side to look at your desk mate. Wonyoung sat there looking straight out from a k-drama, with her hair flowing down her back perfectly and her slender nimble fingers moving as she continuously wrote in her notebook. She was smart too, fluent in English and Korean, great at maths and science. And on top of that she was kind and friendly, everyone loved her. You did too, you had the honour of calling her your best friend. But sometimes you felt insecure around her, everything she did looked flawless and there you were just trying your best.
"Ack!" You yelped as you sat up straight, holding your forehead. Wonyoung rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her lips, she had flicked your forehead to get you out of your thoughts.
Without taking her eyes off the textbook, she tapped your own workbook with her pen. Silently telling you to stop procrastinating. You pouted at her and looked at the clock, 10 minutes before lunch. Maybe a walk to the girl's bathroom would do you some good.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you whispered to Wonyoung. She nodded and smiled at you before you walked out.
As you strolled towards the girl's bathroom, you passed by the bulletin board outside your class. A bright blue poster stood out with the words "ENJOY YOUR YOUTH" in white. Scoffing at the message, you continued on your way.
"I'm seventeen now, where's my fucking teenage dream?" You muttered to yourself. You were tired of waiting for your life to end up like a coming of age movie. Everyone told you that these were the golden years and you should enjoy your youth, but you swear to god if you hear another one of those cheesy sayings, you might just cry on the spot.
Reaching over to open the stall door, you halt in your actions when you heard familiar voices talking.
"I'm so worried for finals, my parents are gonna kill me if I fail English again," a girl complained. You hear the sound of tap water running. "How are you so calm during this time, Mirae?'
"What's the use of studying hard anyways," the second girl, Mirae, said. "We all know the top spots are gonna be taken by Jang Wonyoung and Yang Jungwon, I just study enough to pass."
The other girl snorted at her reply. "Imagine if those two got together, the power couple of the year," she suddenly said.
"Poor Y/N then, she's gonna be over shadowed by them."
"As if she already isn't. I almost forgot they were a trio until you mentioned Y/N," the girl laughed.
"What can I say? They're out of her league," Mirae joined in with her laughter.
The two voices faded away as you heard the door closed. Finally pushing the door open, you looked at your reflection. Your eyebrows knitted in annoyance and your face was morphed in a scowl. You washed your hands aggressively and poked the inside of your cheek. What bugged you was that they were right. You were the black sheep between Wonyoung and Jungwon. Both of them were smart and amazing, and you're just…you.
You love your best friends, you truly do. But you were constantly compared to them and you hated it. Everyone wanted them, you watched as guys tripped over to confess to Wonyoung and girls squealing when Jungwon smiled at them. The two of them always reassured you that you weren't beneath them but you were sick of their sympathy. You're so caught up in the news of who likes you and who hates them. You just wished people liked you more.
Storming out of the bathroom, someone accidentally ran into you and caused you to fell onto your butt. The student immediately stood up and scurried off, not bothering to even a mutter an apology. All I did was try my best and this is the thanks I get, you thought bitterly.
They said that these were the golden years, but you wished you could just disappear. God, it's brutal out here.
"Y/N, wait up!" Jungwon called after you.
You stopped in your tracks as you watched Jungwon waved goodbye to some students before jogging towards you.
"You heading to cram school today?" He asked you as the both of you fell into the same walking rhythm.
You shook your head, clasping your hands behind. "I moved it to Thursday instead, Wonyoung said I had to many things on Tuesday," you told him. Originally, you would be heading to the library to study before heading over to the cram school. But Wonyoung took one look at your schedule and decided that you did not had enough breaks, so she managed to convince you to take the Thursday slot instead. Thursdays are one of the days where you would not go to the library.
Jungwon seemed to be disappointed to find out that you had switched slots. Maybe he should changed slots too, but does he have any empty spots open for Thursday though? He'd have to check later. Instead, he coughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Do you wanna come over later? The new Demon Slayer movie is out," he offered, hoping that you'd accept.
Unfortunately, you once again shook your head. "Sorry Jungwon, I'd want to cram even more later. Finals are really creeping in and I can't afford to waste any time," you told him with a sad smile. As much as you would like to ditch the books and watch Demon Slayer, the glaring C on your last history paper was telling you otherwise.
You stopped walking when you had reached your doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Jungwon. See you tomorrow!" and with that you disappeared behind the door.
Jungwon waved goodbye as he watched the door closed. The smile on his face dropped and his shoulder sagged. Jungwon you idiot, of course she would want to study, he scolded himself. With disappointment on his face, he trudged home with a heavy heart.
"Change of plans, guys," he announced as he swung the front door open, unfazed by the fact that Riki and Sunoo were lounging on his coach. He accepted the fact that Sunoo had somehow gotten the keys to his house (suspecting that his mother probably gave it to him due to favouritism or maybe Riki had sneakily made a copy).
Riki's head poked out from the couch. "She rejected you, didn't she," the younger boy said with a smirk.
Jungwon's face ears turned red as he glared at the boy. "No she did not!" He immediately told him. "She rejected the offer to watch the movie, that's different!"
"That's basically rejection, hyung," Riki laughed.
The other boy just glared at him. "Shut up!" he sputtered out before hiking up the stairs.
Sunoo gave Riki a look, to which the Japanese boy just shrugged his shoulders innocently.
Jungwon walked out from the shower, a towel around his neck with one hand running through his damp hair. Sunoo and Riki had left earlier, finally giving him some peace and quiet. His phone screen was flashing from his study table, initiating that someone was spamming him (quite aggressively) with text message. With a raised eyebrow, he picked up his phone
[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON
[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON
[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON
[7:10 pm] wonyoung: WHY DID Y/N JUST MESSAGED ME ABOUT HOMEWORK
[7:10 pm] wonyoung: ISNT SHE WITH YOU
[7:11 pm] wonyoung: I THOUGHT YOU SAID U WERE GONNA WATCH A MOVIE
[7:11 pm] wonyoung: DEMON HUNTER OR SMTG
[7:12 pm] wonyoung: WHY IS SHE ASKING ME FOR HW
[7:12 pm] wonyoung: DID U CHICKEN OUT???
[7:13 pm] wonyoung: omg u chickened out didnt u
[7:14 pm] jungwon: jfc wonyoung
[7:15 pm] jungwon: and no i did not chicken out okay
[7:15 pm] jungwon: she declined
[7:16 pm] jungwon: she said she had to study ;-;
[7:17 pm] wonyoung: omg u suck
[7:17 pm] wonyoung: i told u the movie idea was dumb
[7:18 pm] wonyoung: but do u ever listen to me
[7:18 pm] wonyoung: no
[7:19 pm] wonyoung: and now u suffer the consequences
[7:20 pm] jungwon: yea yea i get it im dumb
[7:20 pm] jungwon: now what's ur solution the great jang wonyoung
[7:21 pm] wonyoung: i am so glad u asked :)
[7:21 pm] jungwon: oh no
[7:21 pm] wonyoung: stfu im giving u a better idea
[7:22 pm] wonyoung: a n y w a y s
[7:22 pm] wonyoung: my ynradar is going off and she's s a d
[7:23 pm] jungwon: how would u know
[7:23 pm] jungwon: she seemed fine today
[7:23 pm] wonyoung: stfu jungwon its best friend things u wont understand
[7:24 pm] jungwon: i-
[7:25 pm] wonyoung: and as her future bf u SHOULD start to train ur ynradar
[7:25 pm] wonyoung: anw its exam season stoopid
[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and its when those kids start to talk abt how the both of us are gonna get top scores
[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and they talk down on y/n while doing so
[7:26 pm] wonyoung: assholes
[7:27 pm] wonyoung: so i propose to u
[7:27 pm] wonyoung: a ✨ study date ✨
[7:28 pm] jungwon: i
[7:29 pm] jungwon: that's
[7:29 pm] jungwon: actually not a bad idea
[7:30 pm] wonyoung: obv i came up with it
[7:31 pm] jungwon: can u not
[7:31 pm] wonyoung: anw a study date
[7:32 pm] wonyoung: she's struggling in maths
[7:33 pm] wonyoung: specifically taxes because she said and i quote
[7:34 pm] wonyoung: "why do we have to do taxes when we pay people to do it for us"
[7:34 pm] wonyoung: so pls help her and try to cheer her up
[7:35 pm] wonyoung: and confess coward
[7:36 pm] jungwon: i make no promises for the last one
[7:36 pm] wonyoung: aFTER EVERYTHING I JUST SAID
[7:37 pm] jungwon: what if she rejects me wonyoung
[7:38 pm] wonyoung: WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION A LOT OF TIMES JUNGWON
[7:38 pm] wonyoung: SHE LIKES U BUT SHES TOO DUMB TO REALISE
[7:39 pm] jungwon: sigh
[7:40 pm] jungwon: fine i'll try thanks wonyoung
[7:41 pm] wonyoung: np i expect y'all to be a couple by next monday <3
[7:41 pm] jungwon: i-
Sighing for the nth time of the night, Jungwon sat on his bed. He allowed the towel to slipped off his shoulders as his thumb hovered over your chat icon. Truth be told, he always thought his crush on you was unrequited love. You never showed any signs of returning of feelings so he thought he would just ignore the feeling until it was gone.
But oh boy was he wrong, because he didn't knew that he would be spending his high school years by your side. And now you occupy his mind 24/7. Wonyoung could literally tell that he was in love with you, but somehow you never caught on. He allowed Sunoo and Riki to convince him to do the whole "movie date idea", but that failed. So Wonyoung's suggestion was his only option left.
He typed out the message, ready to send it out. If only he could just press the button. Come on Yang Jungwon, you can do this. Just press the damn button Jungwon. Suddenly his phone pinged loudly, scaring the lights out of the poor boy as he yelped and his phone landed with a thud on the ground. He peered over his bed, as if his phone was a ticking bomb.
Oh, it was a message from you.
[8:01 pm] y/n: hey do u know where wonyoung is
[8:01 pm] y/n: she isn't answering my texts
Oh no. He realised that your chat was open, the two ticks indicated that he had (unintentionally) read the message. He couldn't just leave you on read. That's just evil. Scrambling to get his phone, he immediately typed a reply to cover for the other girl.
[8:02 pm] jungwon: sorry i don't :/
[8:02 pm] jungwon: what do u need her for
[8:03 pm] y/n: mf was supposed to teach me a maths question but she left me on rEAD
This was his chance! It was the perfect opportunity for him to score a date with you. Okay, breathe in breath out Jungwon. Don't mess it up and just ask her, he mentally prepared himself.
[8:04 pm] jungwon: oh i could help you if you want
[8:04 pm] jungwon: yk with finals coming up and everything, i can help you study
[8:05 pm] jungwon: if you want of course
[8:05 pm] y/n: omg srsly??
[8:06 pm] jungwon: pls help me study my braincells are literally dying
[8:07 pm] jungwon: jdsjkda okay how about this saturday at your place?
[8:08 pm] y/n: yeah sure
[8:08 pm] jungwon: cool its a date then!
You blinked at Jungwon's message. A date? Wait, did Yang Jungwon just indirectly asked you out? Nah, nah. You were overthinking it. Yes, definitely overthinking. Don't kid yourself, why would Jungwon ask you out on a date? Jungwon is just a friend, you tried to convince yourself.
Keyword: tried.
If he really was just a friend, then why did it felt like butterflies were in your stomach when he said "it was a date"? Then why did you frowned when those girls said that Wonyoung and Jungwon would make a good couple?
Oh god, do you have feelings for your best friend?
Saturday came faster than you would have liked it to. Ever since that last chat with Jungwon, it gave you the sudden realisation that you did in fact had feelings for your best friend. You tried so hard to avoid him in school because you don't want the butterflies back in your stomach. It was basically confirming the fact that you like him. Well, avoiding him also confirmed the fact but you choose to be in denial about it.
You didn't tell Wonyoung about your study date but lately she's been sending you outfit ideas on Pinterest. Specifically, date outftis. And whenever you tried to ask her a question about school, she brushed you off with a random excuse. So it left you no choice but to save those questions for Jungwon.
Speaking of Jungwon, he had texted you 10 minutes ago that he was on the way. You were standing in the middle of your room with your hands on your hips. Both of your parents were out for the day, which left you alone at home. You had taken out the low table to be used later and it was currently in front of you. Colourful workbooks were neatly stacked on top of it.
You did a 360 turn around your room. Was it messy? You cleaned it this morning when you woke up. Did you had any clothes out? No, doesn't look like it. For some reason, you were a nervous wreck. You blamed Jungwon. He just had to call this a date, didn't he.
Should you change? Maybe you should finally look through all those pins Wonyoung sent. Wait, no, why would you have to change into something nice. Jungwon was here to help you study, just that.
Yeah, a study date, your mind emphasised on the word.
The sound of the doorbell pulled you out from your thoughts. You immediately went to open the door. Yang Jungwon stood there on the other side, with his signature smile. Had he always resembled a sheep? He just looked so fluffy.
"Hey!" You greeted him with a smile, internally wincing at your way-too-enthusiastic voice.
But Jungwon didn't seem to mind it. "Hey!" he greeted back.
You moved to the side to let him in. "Thank you for having me," he said as he bowed then proceeded to remove his shoes.
"Uh, do you want anything? Water?" You asked him.
He shook his head.
"Ah, cool. Let's head to my room," you started to walk back to your room.
"Where are your parents?" He asked.
"Out," you simply replied.
That was when it dawned upon you, that your parents were not home. Leaving you and Jungwon, alone. Together. In your room. Alone. With the boy you potentially have a crush on.
"Y/N?" Jungwon tapped on your shoulder. You had stopped walking when you were suddenly washed over by your thoughts. Snapping out of it, you sent him a small smile before opening the room to your door.
The both of you shuffled into your bedroom, you sat down in front of the low table while Jungwon settled down next to you. He moved to take out his books then turned to you. "How about we do some studying and if you have any questions, you can ask me okay?" He said.
You nodded and flipped your own workbook open, immediately starting to work on the first question. Jungwon copied your action and a comfortable silence engulfed the both of you. As the time passed, you found yourself stuck on a certain maths question.
You slightly turned your head to the side to look at Jungwon. He was concentrated at doing his work, you felt a sense of deja vu while looking at him. He resembled Wonyoung when she was studying. At the thought of Wonyoung, you suddenly thought of what those girls said at the bathroom.
They would make a good couple, wouldn't they, you thought. The power couple of the year.
The butterflies in your stomach faded away into an uncomfortable feeling. Just the idea of them getting together already made you sick. You bit the inside of your cheek, you really did had feelings for him. And now it scared you because what if he doesn't feel the same. You made a mental note to consult with Wonyoung later, at least you hope that you'll allow yourself to tell her.
Jungwon must've noticed you staring and gently tapped your head with his pencil. A contrast to when Wonyoung painfully flicked your forehead.
"What's wrong? Are you stuck on a question?" He asked.
You leaned back a bit at the sudden action. You were so deep in your insecurities that you had totally forgotten about the literal problem sitting in front of you. Yet you couldn't even bother to ask him so you just shook your head. "I'm gonna get something to drink," you said instead.
Jungwon watched as you stood up, then decided to follow you as well. "I'll come along."
The boy joined you in the kitchen, perched on one of the island stools as you grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He studied your movement as you worked around the kitchen. Your features were neutral, you weren't smiling nor frowning. But he could tell that your shoulders were tensed. Wonyoung was right, you did seem down. And he cursed himself for not noticing earlier.
"You okay?" His question made you stopped in a mid-pour stance, the can of soda was tilted but not enough for the contents to be poured out.
You brushed his question off and poured the drink into the cup. "Yeah," you hummed.
Unconvinced by your answer, he pried more. "You know you shouldn't care about what they say, right?"
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, pretending like you didn't understand where he was coming from.
"You're not below us, you know that right?"
You couldn't help but scoffed at his words. Jungwon's lips tugged downwards "I'm being serious here, Y/N," his tone was stern. "You shouldn't listen to what they say. You're more than just-"
The sound of the can being slammed down shuts him up. Your fingers tightened around the can as you looked at him. You didn't had the energy to hear him preach the same old "Don't Listen To Them" speech. You don't need his pity.
"I don't want to hear it, Yang Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth. Not sparing him another glance, you threw the empty can into the trash as you grabbed your glass.
As you walked past Jungwon, he suddenly reached out and held onto your forearm. "Y/N," he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong."
You sighed and slowly turn around to face him, placing the glass back on the counter. You took in a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "I feel like I'm not enough," you finally said. "Everything I do just doesn't seem enough. All I'm doing is my best but it's just crushing my ego because everyone is telling me that you're better than me."
"I feel like no one wants me and I hate the way I'm perceived. It's always poor Y/N this and poor Y/N that's because everyone just sees me as your shadow and I fucking hate it. I only have two real friends," you gestured wildly. "And lately I'm a nervous wreck cause I keep comparing myself to the two of you. I'm not cool and I'm not smart, and I can't even parallel park!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the feelings you kept inside were pouring out like a waterfall.
Jungwon just stood there as he listened tentatively to every word. He didn't knew that you felt this way, bottling up all your emotions like that.
"And I'm so tired of people telling me to enjoy my youth and that these are the golden years. I might just fucking cry if I hear those words again," you finished ranting. It felt good, it felt like a weight on your heart has been lifted. Then you remembered that you just dumped all of it on Jungwon.
You opened your mouth to apologise to him but he surprised you by pulling him into his arms. At first you were standing stiffly at the sudden contact, but it took a millisecond for you to melt in his embrace. His arms were gently around your back and you returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his torso. The two of you stay in that position for awhile, relishing in each other's embrace. You definitely needed this hug.
Tightening your hold on Jungwon, you realised how important he was to you. He was your best friend and he was always there for you. It was stupid of you to compare yourself to him, when all he did was tried his best for you. The taller boy chuckled when he felt you rubbed your face into his shoulder, he involuntarily released a contented sigh. You felt one of his hands stroked your hair, it felt comforting. That action itself was enough for the butterflies to slowly settled back in you.
After a while, both of you finally (unwillingly) released each other. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears and said, "You're wrong by the way." Which made you tilt your head in genuine confusion.
"You are cool and you are smart. You're like the coolest person I know. And no one thinks of you as our shadow, you don't hear it but I've always hear the juniors praising you for helping them and how enthusiastic you are," the way he delivered his words was filled with pure awe for you.
"And who cares if you can't parallel park. You didn't hear it from but Jay hyung failed his drivers test three times just because he couldn't parallel park," and that got a laugh out from you. Jungwon smiled proudly that he managed to make you laugh. "And you're wrong when you said no one wants you. I want you."
You blinked once, twice and thrice. He wanted you? "You're just saying that cause you're my best friend," you replied.
"No," he firmly said. "I like you, Y/N."
(Jungwon doesn't know where he got this sudden surge of confidence, but the mood was the perfect time for him to confess. It was a one time chance and he had to take it.)
You chuckled. "I like you too, Jungwon. We are friends aren't we?"
"No, Y/N. I like you. More than friends."
"Oh." Oh.
"Yeah," he scratched the back of neck awkwardly. Oh no, did you not feel the same way?
While you on the other hand, were malfunctioning on the inside. Your best friend just confessed to you and you were frozen on the spot. Why couldn't he had done it over text instead. If he had done it over text, then you could've left the message unread and you could've spammed Wonyoung for help. But the thing is that it wasn't over text and you couldn't just tell him to wait here while you panicked to Wonyoung in your bathroom.
Yang Jungwon likes you. And you like him too, right? Because if you didn't, your cheeks won't be heating up right now and your heart would have not be beating rapidly like it was going to break your rib cage any second. If you didn't like him, there would have never been butterflies in your stomach. Yeah. You like Yang Jungwon, you like him a lot.
"Me too," you whispered, it was soft but it was enough for him to pick it up. Jungwon eyes snapped to you, doe eyed filled with hope. "I like you, too," you said, this time louder. And you made sure you looked him in the eye when you confessed.
You watched as Jungwon's mouth morphed into a big grin. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his knees, surprising you. "Jungwon!" you squeaked, bending down to help him.
"I'm fine! I'm fine," he assured you as he stood up with your help. The grin on his face was still there. "It's just that … you like me," he breathed out. "You like me back, wow. I-I can't believe it."
Your face was definitely burning with embarrassment. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, turning away to hide your face. "Believe it, you dork. I like you, okay!" Somehow his grin was able to grew wider at your words, Gently, he took your hand in his.
"How about we stop this study date, and I'll take you out on real date?"
© chaeryybomb 2021
a/n: thank you so much for reading this <3
#enhypen#yang jungwon#jungwon#enhypen imagines#yang jungwon imagines#jungwon imagines#enhypen x reader#yang jungwon x reader#jungwon x reader#kim sunoo#nishimura riki#enhypen scenarios#yang jungwon scenarios#jungwon scenarios#jungwon fluff#enhypen fluff#yang jungwon fluff#chaeryybomb; the sour series
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Anonymous submitted and said:
It’s honestly astounding how much this series bends over backwards to avoid holding Adrien accountable for anything. Like sure, we definitely see it with Alya, Nino and pretty much everyone who isn’t Marinette, since one of the Staples of This Series is that Everything Is Ultimately Marinette’s Fault… or at least, that she gets blamed for everything. Because somebody has to take the heat, and she’s the most narratively convenient… and one of the only characters who actually cares about the harm she causes.
Which this series shows to be a sucker’s bet. Personal accountability is for chumps. Our heroine models it, but we also see her suffering for it – immensely so.
Adrien, by contrast, does whatever he damn well pleases, and the series goes well out of its way to shield him from the consequences. The few times he does have to deal with them, such as when Gabriel punished him for stealing and losing the Book, or when Ladybug calls him out for sexually harassing him, are always depicted as ‘unfair overreactions’.
What’s more, the few times we see somebody other than Marinette having to deal with the fallout of their actions, it’s typically one of the other girls. Like Chloe being the least popular girl in their class, or Alya’s thoughtless posting of her ‘scoop’ from the museum making Marinette reconsider trusting her, or Lila having to deal with Adrien knowing her true nature. (Sure, he won’t do anything to protect others from her, much less Marinette, but he still doesn’t trust her or go along with her whims to the degree she clearly desires.)
Time and again, this series shows that taking responsibility for your actions is a Bad Thing that brings nothing but suffering. And it further compounds that with its insistence that Adrien Never Does Anything Wrong even when he clearly does – but the narrative keeps claiming otherwise, unwilling to acknowledge his own culpability. And his defenders parrot that because… well, what else can they do? They don’t want their poor, sweet Adrikins to suffer like Marinette does–! Because as they’ve seen, accountability is for girls fools.
This.
Freaking--
all of this!!
“Adrien is perfect” according to the show, and therefore the character that the kids should apparently strive to be, yet we’re repeatedly shown that Adrien/Chat gives zero damns about accountability. Most of the time, he’s either running away from his feelings, sulking until people cater to his whims, or outright giving up rather than admitting to his mistakes.
Clearly, compared to Marinette, his life is better, but I guess you only get that advantage if you’re a guy. Girls are just being sensitive and unreasonable when they’re crying/being upset, thus making everyone else’s life harder.
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Clarity
My hot roommate Zach is the perfect man. I think I won the cosmic lottery when we got paired freshman year. “Roommates for life!” he shouted, as he wrapped a tone arm around me in a side-hug. I chuckled, of course. Who knew the cutest guy in our dorm was such a dork. I remember that moment vividly, committed every last detail to memory. In what he likely only barely remembers, I recall to the last detail. I play it back often -even moreso, nowadays: The crisp autumn breeze. The filtered sunlight through amber trees, bathing us both in golden afternoon. The warmth of his touch, and the unintended taunt from his arm pulling me towards him and his jacket ever so slightly wrapping over my back. The slight, dense smell of coffee wafting from him and his minty breath cutting through. Thats how I remember him. Warm. Sincere. Safe. Zach would probably say that was the moment we became best friends. I, on the other-hand, would say that was the exact moment when I fell for him.
We did everything together from then on: Ate together, joined the same clubs, signed up to the same classes- that first year we were inseparable. Best friends to a tee. I’m not even sure what he saw in me- the guy was a hell of a lot more sociable than I was. He could literally find anyone else on campus, yet I had the privilege of being his roommate and friend. I commit that wonderful first year to my life. It is my happiest year to date. I commit that version of Zach to myself as well.
Trouble started early in our second year. He spent all summer back home, hanging out with his high school friends and his brothers. When we finally met back in our new room, he seemed distant. Still, I made the effort, getting closer and closer to him every day. He’d been sending signals too, I think. A stray touch, just a half second too long. A lingering stare in my direction. A gentle smile when I ask him a bout his day. I had to know for myself with certainty.
So, one terrifying October night, I asked him straight up.The fucker laughed. Cruel, hideous, insensitive laughter. I’d never felt more alone in my life than when he laughed at my confession. That broke something in me. I quickly ran to my bed, crying myself to sleep. Without skipping a beat, Zach left the room to grab a bite to eat, seemingly unchanged by my outright confession. I had never been so humiliated in my life, yet only he would ever know. Still I felt him hold that over me in the weeks to follow like a dark cloud. Of course he’d still offer hangouts. He’d ask for help with some dumb assignment or try to get me to open up by faking some issues about himself. He was mocking me. I felt his sneer, ever-present from behind. Thats when I began researching alternative methods to exact what I needed from him.
Why a private university had a book like this is beyond me. It was a spellbook. A dangerous one, at that. All manner of incantation and processes regarding the human soul. I poured myself the next few weeks on its pages religiously. Translation is a massive pain in the ass but it gets done.
“Love cannot be created by spell,” it stated. Leave it to a fucking book to let me down too. I wiped away stray tears until I caught sight of the last batch of spells. I sighed at its contents. Fine. I couldn’t make him love me through magic, but I could have him the next best way. His body. The final section of this book of spells is, of course, the curses and enchantments required to possess another being.
———
The preparations have been made. It’s another late, awkward night in our room, where he just passes by, gives me a nod and a grimace and then heads to bed. This night would be different. I chant the words. The price is steep. Half of my body’s lifespan for the ability to take someone over in their sleep. That’s the one I settled on. Of course, there were more permanent spells outlined, but this seemed to be a happy medium.
The magic is dark in nature, and I feel the cloud over me deepen. I feel myself detach. It’s weightless, but grounded. Makes sense, given the purpose of this spell. I watch my target and lick my astral lips. There he was, happily dreaming without a care in the world. I study every curve, like sculpture. He is muscled, but tone. Zach likes to sleep with his shirt off, so I get to see what powerful chest up close. I watch as powerful lungs, drawn in air before gently dispersing it. Perfection. I watch that beautiful face lie still in a satisfied smile. Angelic. This body is power, incarnate. My power, soon.
I follow closes until I am but inches from his face. I stir around him, slightly. I want him to know it’s me. Bleary eyes open and he gives a weak smile when he sees me. “Dude-” the smile quickly fades to shock. “Wait what the fuck...” in sinful glee I push into my man. He involuntarily absorbs my particles, my spirit. He tries to push me away, to get me off him. Hands are useless to stop me. I phase through them with no resistance. His breath quickens as he begins to panic. This only further brings me into him, as he is forced to breath in the only air around him-me.
Then, he starts choking, trying to force the parts of me in him out. I am unfazed. Instead, in I keep filling into him until all of me is inside. This is the way we were meant to be. He pulses and convulses and chokes while I align myself into him. I revel in Zach. In being Zach. Despite all the shit he pulled this year, he still is perfection. My perfection, now.
I command his lips mine. “Invoke me. Become me. Manipulate this body. Explore us. Stay, in me. I want you here, forever.” They’re not words he usually uses. I rile in a frenzy when these phrases leave his lips at my behest. When his voice becomes my own and I make us moan. When his body complies with my every whim. When Zach’s flesh is mine. It is euphoric. Orgasmic even. I intend to follow through, to reward it. To pleasure it. God it feels good being in him. Being him. He may not love me, but love me he will, even if indirectly. Every waking moment I spend inside this man will be a moment of him loving himself, loving me. Now, And then I feel it. I clutch my head in pain. Zach.
Veins strain in his forehead as he puts every last effort to exorcise me out. Resistance almighty in this body. In tears I feel myself stripped from momentary heaven. He chokes as a dense fog that is me escapes his mouth. He is successful.
When I am kicked out of his body abruptly, I flare in anger. How could he do this? How could he? I look back at my slumbering form. No matter. My resolve is steel. Somehow, somewhere deep inside me, I knew somewhere it had to come to this. I chant the final curse mentioned in the spellbook. The price is the steepest of them all.
I watch as my physical form dissipates. I writhe as I am renewed with newfound energy. Potency. Virility. I’ve put in everything. Everything I ever was into becoming him. Zach would be mine, no matter what.
Before he can readjust, before he can even think about what had just occurred, I flood back inside my man. Inside my body. My one true body, now, given what I had to sacrifice. I make him smile while he takes me in. Smile in preparation of a new, permanent driver. I thrust my astral form inside its new home. It’s warm. Roomy. muscular. We make this body grin, shout, cry, writhing all the way in its sheets in our battle for control. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing when he fights me- but he always was a natural in everything he picked up. I feel our shared muscle contract and relax as it is forced to accept its two masters- soon to be one. Soon to be me. Zach’s soul was strong but no one was a match for the full force of an entire human body-turned-spirit. I feel his soul start to lose footing. Jackpot. Immediately fill take its place. My place.
I was far deeper in Zach now than I was before. His essence struggles, trying to escape me but I keep us steady, hold us tight. Our minds begin to connect this time around and we sync. The book said this was a necessary step. I blink away our tears into a satisfied smile. Our face is flush from the fight, flush from my greatest victory. “You’re mine forever,” I think to myself, My words. The verbalization of my invasive thoughts in his head- they’re spoken in his tongue. In his jock-like inflection. I even now think in his voice. Of course, it’s relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Yet it is undeniable proof. The finality of it all. Proof that my body no longer existed in this world. Proof that for me, forever, Zach would be my default. Just one last step to it all. One last push- I’ve already given this much, there was no going back. I would displace Zach as the true owner of this body. It’s as the final line in the book states: “Encapsulate their soul, devour it, digest it, make it yours. Then, true control at long last.”
Tears stream down our shared cheeks as we both realize the true gravity, the true consequences of my actions. We are synced now, but I haven’t yet completed the process. So, our emotions are a mix. So, it’s bittersweet. He’s mine. We’re one. I’m finally with Zach in a way most intimate. Despite it all, he isn’t fighting back. Why?
I rage inside him, wanting him to be mad, wanting him to hate me, to give me justification my ultimate transgression. He offers none. Instead, I am hit with borrowed clarity. More of his memory floods into me and I begin to cry.
I watch my every worst moment through his lens, relive the demons of my past and yet, from his perspective they never looked quite as dark or traumatic as I had made them out to be. Even my confession itself, my initial catalyst, had merely been a blip in Zach’s mind. If anything, he had been more concerned that his own nervous laughing was the cause of my spiraling. I quickly realize how much wasted time I spent, building up Zach into this god in my head. My god. In the end, he was human after all.
I feel Zach pull instances of himself from my memories in turn. It turns out he had many, many insecurities as well. Many moments where he needed validation or support. Many moments, even in recent memory, where I had never picked up on on his fear and self doubt. An offhand comment here. Some self-deprecation there. Of course, stupid me always there to respond by telling him to quit joking around. I felt the months of torment he felt in my coldness after my confession. He wasn’t making fun of me or being an ass, he wasn’t even patronizing (well, he wasn‘t trying to at least)- he thought he was losing a friend. The guy was just a bit oblivious. God I was so dumb. Of course, he blames himself for my eventual actions. Poor guy. Zach didn’t deserve any of this- he never did. “Thank you” he cries in new clarity.
In mental tears I begin to undo my connection to him. It’s not something he had the capacity to do himself- I made that a reality when I used my physical form as tribute. I know the price which must be paid, for my greatest sin, born from misunderstanding. There wouldn’t be much left for me- the price for the spell was my physical body after all. It didn’t matter. I made that choice for myself when I recited the spell. But Zach... he had no choice at all. He still had a chance at a life. A life well-lived with knowledge and confidence gained from my memory. It was the least I could give him.
I begin to drift away as I balance the cosmic scales. I detach the last of myself from Zach, ready to give him back his body, ready to return him to his life. It’s merely a reverse of the process from before, yet it all feels lighter somehow. I take it as a sign of karmic justice. Of course, I am scared. Who knows what awaits me? Maybe I can find another body to inhabit. Maybe one in a coma. Maybe i’ll be reincarnated. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll just vanish on the spot...
Zach doesn’t give me the chance to find out. I feel his astral hand holding on to mine. His face is sympathetic. Kind. Warm. Like it used to be. Like it always was. His body leans up to pull me into a warm embrace. I start crying in spirit. “You, you don’t have to do this-”
“I know” he says. He pulls me tighter. “Roommates for life, remember?” Now he’s crying. “There’s no way to go back- we both know that, but you still got a life to live-we both do.” He smiles as he guides me to himself. I reattach to him. We weave our souls as one. “C’mon man, I told you I grew up sharing a room.” I am a complete mess of emotions at this point. Unworthiness, Love, Relief. I feel his mess too. Neither of us knew where to go from here, but we both knew we’d face it together.
The experience was sobering, to say the least. We cried together that night. We cried at newfound realization. We cried at irreversibility of what I had done. Hell, we even cried at the extra rent that had to now be paid. I had no way of undoing what I did, and Zach wouldn’t let me go. In the end, we decide to just give it a go, a resolve to live as one person. “Zach 2.0,” as he jokingly put it. Dork.
———
“A happy accident,” is what Zach called the events of that night. He always was the optimist. Although, these days, I’m a bit of an optimist now too. I am Zach now too, after all. All things considered, we’ve done quite well together. Zach 2.0 was everything. We were smart, intuitive, confident, compassionate. We’ve made this body the healthiest it’s ever been. Hell, together we even graduated with honors, something neither of us could ever hope to do alone. Both our parents were real proud of that one- he told mine at my funeral that we had been together and we’ve been in close contact ever since. By no means were we the perfect man though. There was no perfect man. We’ve had our share of fights, struggles, times where one of us would take full control of this body we share, shut the other out.
Once in a blue moon, we both dream of what our lives could have ended up as, had I not done what I did or had he let me disappear that night. In retrospect, I really do think my life had a lot of things going for it. Hindsight is always 20/20, as he likes to say. I saw many an opening, so many areas for improvement that my younger self was blinded by in lust and perceived betrayal. There was so much life I could have lived, had I just not opened that stupid book. I don’t dwell on it too much though. We’re both quite happy sharing this body. I’m living in one body with my crush, whats not to like?
The first few months were quite jarring. Our friends and family would see us happy and outgoing at one moment and then flip to quiet and reserved on a flip of the switch. Gratefully, they been patient with us, assuming it was the byproduct of a grieving boyfriend. The more years I grow with him, the more alike we have become. Sharing one body and living one life tends to do that. I’ve probably rubbed off on him a little too. He’s just a bit more analytical now, a bit more perceptive, and I’ve learned to let loose every once in a while. Altogether, we make a great team. We’ve even managed a slew of relationships along the way. Hell, he’s even gone out with some guys-no doubt a byproduct of my soul being a part of him. Of course, in the ultimate cruel twist of fate, they never last- he tells me “none ever match me”. Well of course they can’t. I’ve lived every moment with him, felt his every thought, lifted him when he was up, consoled him when he was down. Ironically, in a roundabout way, the spell did end up causing love, causing for him to fall for me- at the cost of us never being able to be a couple in the physical sense. Guess you really can’t have it all.
In the few years we spent together my love for him has only deepened. I know he feels the same way. We are one person, after all. All things considered, it’s not a bad setup. If love on the physical plane happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t- then we still always have each other. Regardless, I’m sure we’ll find someone out there for the both of us, someday-there’s that optimism again. Of course, we don’t pine for it. Our main focus has always been each other. Growing together. We’ve got a whole life yet to live. And he’ll have me with him every step of the way. And we can’t wait to face it all, together.
-End-
Eh, it’s a bit underdeveloped but I’m not a novelist and I didn’t want to spread this out over parts. Going for something a little different with number 14- hope y’all like it!
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Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts
HIGH SCHOOL AU
Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR
MASTERLIST HERE
Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.
A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone to write a fic based on the song CREEP.
I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.
A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC.
Words: 4,110
WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.
THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.
This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.
ALL MY FICS ARE 18+
TAGS ON THE COMMENTS
As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!!
DRAKE
Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.
Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”
It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong.
“Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack.
“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”
My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”
I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent.
“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?”
She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.”
The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up.
How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.
“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”
A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony.
“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence.
“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done.
“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.”
I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long.
My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.
Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.
LEXIE
I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me.
“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality.
“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.”
“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was.
“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.
My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.
At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right.
Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me.
“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.”
This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.”
For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion.
“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.”
“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—”
“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”
I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me.
“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City.
“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.”
I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…”
“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”
I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along.
That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper.
He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”
Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.
Drake
What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.
Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall.
“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me.
“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”
She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”
“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.”
Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”
“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”
Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.
“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”
She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand.
“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.”
Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“How long do we have?”
“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead.
“Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”
Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.
“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine.
“I can’t just leave, can I?”
“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”
She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?”
That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”
That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.”
She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”
Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything.
“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.
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Reconciliation (Stan Uris x reader x Richie Tozier, Reddie)
I'm finally back! It's probably been a year since I posted Betrayal and shit has really hit the fan since then, but here I am a year later with part 2!
Here is a link to part 1
Warning: swearing
Aged up: 18/19
You tried to catch up with Stan as he power-walked out of the house. He stopped short when he realized his car wasn't there. "Stan" You catch his attention and he turns around. His chest rising and falling at a quick pace, "You heard everything in there?" Stan's voice was quiet, much quieter than just a minute ago. You nod and he sighs. "I'm sor-" You cut him off "Don't be" You take a step forward and bring your hand up to push some curls out of his face. He leans into your hand, not stopping himself for once. No yearning, no shouting in his head over his actions. Just the feel of your soft palm against his cheek. Stan takes a deep breath, feeling himself calm down in the wake of your touch. "Can we go somewhere?" Stan's voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."
Richie leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He brushed his hands through his hair 'God I fucked up' "Man you really fucked up." Richie looked up. "Thanks, Bill your a real help." Bill put his hands up in defense. "I gotta say I really didn't see that one coming," Eddie spoke up. Bill and Mike nodded in agreement. "I mean I knew *something* was going on but holy shit I didn't think they were in love with each other," Beverly added. "We know Stanley's in love with her but is she in love with Stan? I mean she was just in a serious relationship like a week ago" "Yeah I wonder what happened to that relationship?" Ben's eyes sharp at Eddie, voice stiff and slightly viscous, "Alright! Alright!! None of that!" Mike's authoritative voice made it known he was seriously done with all the fighting. "She loves him" The group turned their heads at Richie's small voice, Ha stared down at the floor and spoke softly. "She may not be in love with him right now, but I could see it. She's falling for Stan."
Eddie looked over at Richie. A mix of emotions reached throughout the boy. He hated seeing Richie like this, but he also hated that it was about you. Mostly he hated that it was about you. He couldn't control it, no matter how much he wished that he could. What is it exactly that Richie is so mad at? Is he upset that he potentially ruined his relationship with Stan? Is he upset that Stan is in love with (Y/N) or that Stan claimed he neither loved nor cared about (Y/N)? Is Richie still in love with (Y/N)? If so is he mad that (Y/N) could be in love with Stan or that she is moving on so quickly? Eddie couldn't help but feel like he was still second to you. It's not like Richie chose to tell you. He kept telling Eddie that he would for at least 2 weeks, but then she found out in her own way. Eddie feared that maybe he was never gonna tell you. Or now that you found out does Richie regret it? 'Alright, Alright Eddie calm the fuck down! Just go talk to Richie.' "Eds?" "Yeah Rich." "I'm gonna go." Richie's tone sounded soft, defeated. It broke Eddie's heart to see him like this. "Yeah sure I'll go grab my keys-" Richie cut him off politely. "I'm just gonna walk. I think I wanna be alone right now. I'll call you later." Richie placed a hand on the back of Eddie's head pulling him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "OK. Be safe please."
"Where are we going?" You ask Stan who is driving and keeping silent. "You'll see. Um, go into the glove compartment a find the clear tape." You scrunch your eyebrows together. "You been stashing things in my glove compartment, Uris?" You found a clear tape and put it into the radio. Temptation by New Order flooded in through the speakers. A smile grew on your face as you turned the volume nob up. Stan looked over at you for a second just to see your growing smile. "I made you a tape and left it in here for the next time you complain that there's nothing good on the radio." A fit of giggles came from your mouth. "Stanley Uris made me a fucking mix-tape." You continued to laugh. It brought a smile, growing wider by the second, to see you so happy and blissful listening to your favorite music, a song he loved as well.
And I've never seen anyone quite like you before. No, I've never met anyone quite like you before.
Richie's emotions were confusing him now more than ever. He loved (Y/N). He truly did, but he just wasn't in love with her. Guilt consumes him every night before sleep and every time he sees you. He never wanted to hurt you. But when it comes to Eddie he's impulsive even a little reckless. Richie knew that he fucked up massively. Not only with you but with Stan and he even feels so with Eddie. He felt that if he just would have been honest with you before jumping into things with Eds maybe Eddie wouldn't have lost his best friend. He still couldn't wrap his head around how much of an idiot and a dick he was about Stanley. What in the fucking hell would lead him to believe that Stanley Uris of all people would fuck around with someone's feelings like that? He had already caused (Y/N) enough pain maybe he was trying to be a hero or something. Do something right for once, but of course, it was just another gigantic fuck up! Executed wonderfully by your very own Richie Tozier. Richie had noticed that he walked straight to the quarry. He picked up a stone and skipped it across the water.
Stan pulled the car over along where the road stopped and the tree's started. "Come on." Stan walked over to your side of the car and opened the door for you and held out his hand. You took his hand and walked beside him into the woods. "You trying to get me to some secret secondary location?" "What, you don't recognize where we're going?" You looked around a bit and shook your head. "Well, then I guess it will be a surprise." "I guess this is the day I get murder in the woods. Goodbye world you were never all that good to me but at least my murder is hot as hell." You almost couldn't see Stan's blush from how much he was laughing. You're hands brush as you walked close together. Stan felt a little nervous to take it, it's not like he hasn't held your hand before but right now he feels it holds so much more. 'Good' he thought to himself. 'It does mean more. Let it mean more.' He took your hand in his and warmth spread throughout the both of you. Just the two of you holding hands walking through the trees with Stan pointing out some birds to you, felt so blissful. At this moment you realized you had never felt this way with Richie. The two of you had a lot in common and play off each other well jokes and conversation-wise. But maybe that wasn't all a relationship needed. You had felt that's why Richie and you were so perfect together. Maybe this was finally the start to forgiving Richie and regaining some normalcy, realizing that maybe we weren't perfect or meant to be after all. If this is how Richie felt with Eddie you felt that you could somewhat understand why he was so in a rush to have it. It was scary how new this thing with Stan was yet how important it felt to you. You would go to the ends of the earth to protect what you had with Stan, no one in the world made you feel as safe and comforted as Stanley Uris. What Richie did, going behind your back, was in no way how he should've handled the situation. You let him into some of the most vulnerable spaces in your mind and life, entrusting him with your heart and your deepest thoughts, that you were his only person. That wasn't something easy to forgive, not something to easily recover from, especially having that trust broken with someone else with who you were very close. You may be happy and blissful at this moment, but you definitely knew the consequences of Richie's actions would come back to rear its ugly head sooner or later. But you believed that understanding was one of the first steps toward forgiveness. The more you walked the louder the sound of running water became. Soon you could even see the running water. You realized Stan had brought you to the barrens.'But why the barrens?' you thought to yourself. You reached the edge of the water and looked over to Stan. "C'mon" he grabbed your hand and stepped out onto a rock in the water. You did your best to follow, it finally dawns on you that you were headed toward the clubhouse.
When you got to the small clearing Stan went ahead and lifted the hatch to the small underground area where the losers used to hang out. "I've only been here a couple of times." You said as you climbed down the ladder. "Yeah, I guess we started hanging out other places more." Stan walked over to the hammock getting in. He smiled and reached his arms out like a little kid asking for a hug. You raised an eyebrow at him. "I know. I always feel like I'm gonna fall out of this thing, but it's safe I promise." "Okay," You say drawing out the word in a skeptical tone. You yelped as it wobbled and Stan gripped his arms around your waist as the hammock swung a little. "See, safe." You let out an amused huff and relaxed into Stan. Your back was pressed against his chest, both of your heads finding slightly uncomfortable spots in the crooks of the other's neck. "I remember one of the first times Eddie ever brought you to hang around with us was down here." Stan played with your hands in your lap. "I remember looking over and seeing you smiling, talking to Beverly. It was really hot out, your cheeks were pink. Richie gave you his shower cap and you, him, and Bill talked about comic books." You closed your eyes just listening to Stan talk softly into your hair. "Beverly came over to me when she noticed. She was joking around told me to stop staring, that it was rude. I hadn't even noticed that I was staring. I got nervous cuz, -hoping you didn't notice. You were so beautiful I couldn't help but stare." You blushed and let out a chuckle, your stomach filling up with butterflies. "I don't expect you to say back any time soon, and I in no means want to rush you, but I-" Stan paused, thinking about the impact of his words. He started to think maybe he should give you a little time, but then you leaned your head up to look at him. And when he looked down into your eyes there was no way stopping the words from falling out of his mouth. "I love you." The look in Stan's eyes was intoxicating, you could have stared in his eyes for the rest of both your lives, but instead, you brought your hand up to his jaw and tilted your head bringing yours and Stan's lips together. Equally as intoxicating as the look in his eyes. The two of you felt as if you were floating on clouds. Like you two were the only two people in the world. You pulled away and smiled, Stan pressed his forehead against yours. "I know" You and Stan laughed.
"Ok Rich. You just need to apologize. I'm sure they'll forgive you. They're your friends, basically your family." Richie walked back into town talking to himself. "And you hurt them and accused them of shitty things and now all your friends will hate you forever cuz you were a total dick and even their grandchildren will hate the name, Richie Tozier." Richie stopped for a second and groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face under his glasses. He took a deep breath and continued walking.
Mike opened the door to Richie. "Hey man, come in." "Is Eds still here." "Yeah, he's in the living room. Rich," Mike put a hand on his shoulder. "He's worried about you. We all kinda are. There's been a lot going on with you four I just want to remind you that if you need someone to talk to we're all here for you buddy." "Thanks, man." Richie continues into the living room and sees Ben and Eddie talking. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing how much it hurt Eddie that Ben wouldn't talk to him. They hugged and Ben got up off the couch and saw Richie. "I'm really sorry Richie. It was really rude to treat you like that-" Richie cut him off. "It's ok man really, I get it. She's your friend, I was a dick." "Yeah but you and Eddie are my friends too." "Well then what do you say Haystack," Richie extended out a hand. "Back to buds." Ben agreed and shook Richie's hand. Richie took a seat next to Eddie on the couch. "Hey, I'm glad your back I wanted to-" Richie leaned in and kissed Eddie. "As much as I love you and your adorable rambling I wanted to apologize." Eddie was suddenly very nervous. He thought to himself 'Shit this is it. He still loves Kassidy.' "Sure, Sure yeah. Umm a-about what Rich?" Richie took Eddie's hands in his fiddling with them out of nerves. "About everything. About not telling Kassidy. About not even being decent enough to break it off first so neither of you would get hurt. All of this would have been so much easier and nobody would've had to lose any friends. I'm just so sorry Eddie, I love you and I never wanted to hurt you like that." Eddie was so relieved to hear those words come out of Richie's mouth. He put a hand up to Richie's cheek and leaned to kiss him. "I love you too Richie." Richie chuckled in relief "Thank fuck."
You and Stan walked back to the car hand in hand. "So what do you wanna do now? " You leaned your back up against the car door "Oh I don't know maybe some more of this." Stan leaned himself against the car by his forearm and with his other hand lifted your chin, leaning down connecting your lips. You hummed against his lips. "Well, I do love doing that." "Do you want to go back to your place-" Stan pressed a small kiss on your neck "Watch a movie." "Shit!" Stan's head shot up. "I left my house keys at Bens." "We can sneak through your bedroom window." You push yourself off of the car, past Stan, and walked to the other side pulling your door open. "I don't wanna go back there either but with any luck, Richie won't be there." Stan groaned and got into the car.
You wrapped your knuckles on the door and Mike opened it with a smile. "I just forgot my keys." Mike let you in past him to the table where the keys sat. You quickly walked over to the table and grabbed your keys. Turning around back towards the door you catch Richie staring from the couch next to Eddie. For once you didn't feel the wind knocked out of you. But you couldn't say that the feeling of wanting to punch him had dulled any. You carried on toward the door when Richie called out your name. You sighed and banged your head on Mike's front door and contemplated for a second whether or not you should pretend you didn't hear him and keep walking. Apparently, you had stayed there a bit too long. Richie tapped two fingers on your shoulder. "I was just wondering if you would let me talk at you for a second. You don't need to say anything, or react in any way really-" You turned around and put your hands on his shoulders. He froze silent as you drew a deep breath. "I forgive you." It wasn't easy to say, you weren't even sure it was true. A part of you wanted to keep him dangling in wonder and guilt but you knew that you would eventually fully forgive him and the more you saw him moping around the more you would most likely enjoy watching him suffer for what he did. But if he just thought that you had forgiven him then maybe he would go back to his old trashmouth self and you all could move on.
Richie was taken by surprise, to say the least. He felt relief for a fleeting moment until he remembers Stan. "He's out in the car" He heard him speak softly. She somehow always knew what was going on inside his head, that's what made him think that she was so great, that they would be so great together. Against your better judgment, you grimaced and said, "I can give you five minutes. But he has the car keys so I can't promise he won't dive off on you." Richie threw his arms around you and squeezed you, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" "Yeah, sure get off me" He smiled at you, "Sorry." As Richie walked out the door he turned back to you, "He wouldn't drive off without his best girl." Richie started making trumpets sound in the tune of 'A Long Long Time' by Kitty Kallen and closed the door. You rolled your eyes as you and Mike laughed
Richie fell silent as he walked up to your car with Stan in the front seat. He raised his hand and tapped on the window. Stan kept his stare forward and locked the car door. Richie sighed. "Stan please." Richie heard the click of the car doors unlock and walked around to the other side and got in. "I'm so sorry. I was being a complete shit of a person and totally overreacted. I do care about her, I do! That's why I got so angry and it totally fucked up my judgment." Stan wasn't saying anything and it started to make Richie even more nervous. "I was angry and confused and I honestly don't know where all of that came from. That's not what I think of you at all, you gotta know that, Stan. You're one of my best friends and the best dude I know and I'm so sorry I said all of those things. I know I really fucked up." The two of them sat and stared out the windshield, Richie's leg bounced up and down from nerves until Stanley broke the silence. "I'm sorry too. That I turned my back on you. I couldn't understand how you had the most perfect girl right in front of you and seeing you hurt her made me angry too. I mean we all saw you and Eddie happening eventually, but I didn't think you two would go and do that. I love her and I guess I let that get in the way of our friendship." "I mean dude I don't really think I could blame you. I've seen the way she looks at you. It can make someone do stupid and crazy things." "Well then I guess that explains why you are so stupid and crazy," Stan laughed, "Eddie looks at you like that 24\7." Richie turned away laughing and hoped it hid the bright red flush on his cheeks. "I can't believe she actually forgave me." "Yeah me neither, to be honest." Stanley dead-panned. "Buuut," Stan took a calming deep breath, "If she can forgive you, then I guess I should too."
Eddie walked up to (Y\N) hesitantly as she was laughing with Mike. Mike saw Eddie and took that as his cue to leave, or rather to eavesdrop from the kitchen with Beverly, Ben, and Bill.
"Thanks for uh.. for forgiving Richie, he's been a wreck," Eddie said. "N-not that I've been fine! I-I feel completely terrible for what I did. But I mean I-I-I'm not trying to make you feel bad for me or anything. O-or for Richie. I just mean that we're both really sorry. I'm so, so very sorry (Y/N)." Eddie stammered through quickly. Man, do your shoes look mighty interesting at that moment. 'You forgave Richie why is it so hard to forgive Eddie. Maybe because we only gave Richie a premature apology so we could all get back to normal? Should I have to do that with Eddie too? Fuck that neither of them deserves it!' You fought back and forth with yourself in your head before finally looking up at Eddie. You took a deep breath, "I know...I-" Eddie cut you off "You don't have to." "I feel like I should." "You already kinda forgave Richie I know that's a big thing so you can hate me for as long as you need I deserve it." You smiled at Eddie and walked out of the house. Richie saw you walking towards the car and stepped out leaving the door open for you. You got in and leaned over to Stanley cupping the side of his face to bring him closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Stan started the car as you buckled. You tucked your legs up onto the seat and curled up to get comfy. Stan rests his hand over on one of your legs as you closed your eye
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#stan uris imagine#stanley uris x reader#stan uris#richie tozier x reader#reddie#beverly marsh#ben hanscom#mike hanlon#eddie kaspbrak#bill denbrough#losers club x reader#it moive#it movie 2019#it movie 2017#the losers club#stanley uris#stanley uris imagine#stan uris x reader#benverly#it chapter one#it chapter two#it chapter 2#richie tozier imagine#wandavision spoilers
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Thoughts on ACOSF
⚠️ SPOILERY, SO DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE BOOK ⚠️
⚔️ the good and the bad, I’ll try to get rid of the bad thoughts first and keep the positive ones for the end but idk where my line of thought would go as I recall and type so here we go
• Nesta’s journey of healing is hers and hers alone. She owes no one in the inner circle anything, they didn’t do her any favors. (Now before I delve into this, I just want to say that I see they (Feyre and Elain only) had good intentions, but I’m going to point out everywhere it went wrong, probably against what they planned, but still it went horribly wrong) She was still suffering all the same after she got her free will stripped from her, the decision made for her by packing her things without informing her or listening to her opinion or trying to have a more lenient approach to the matter, being threatened that her second option is being thrown to the human lands where she could die, being lied to about the consequences of her actions in law, being told she “belongs in the Hewn City”, being told she’s “a pathetic waste of life”, and choosing the place everyone admits they hate going to aka the House of Wind, as her destination to heal. Knowing full well she can’t make the descent down these stairs and would be imprisoned without the power to winnow. And instead of being given her space and time, they push her to talk and interact when all she’s trying to do is have some distance from everyone. Some time to herself, to not feel anything, to control the storm of thoughts raging on the inside. And she’s pushed time and time again to face her trauma and heal RIGHT NOW because apparently, they’re timing her. And she shouldn’t have her emotions on display, when she tells them she doesn’t feel like talking yet she’s forced to interact and socialize. Anyone who’s been forced to interact against their will knows how draining it is. Now imagine this coupled with being triggered by water, and being triggered by fire, which are a daily necessity. And imagine everyone got a decade or more to deal with their trauma and are still not entirely healed, yet your time is up after little over a year. It sucks. And I hate how what triggered them to action wasn’t that she was wasting away to nothing, but the bill. When the bill was high, they drew the line. And I hate how in the narrative, the “conversation” -even though I wouldn’t call it that because only one side was allowed to talk and the other side wasn’t allowed to object- was written in a way that made it about THEIR image, when she’s frequenting taverns. THEIR image, when she doesn’t show up to their parties. THEIR image when the bill for her drinking is high. (They say it’s too much money, as if they don’t have all the riches and they all spend money on things that are absolutely not necessary, and THEY drowned her with gifts, LOADS of gifts, after she sacrificed her power to save her sister, which she didn’t do for payment, but anyway the thought is, they had the money and just like they thought Amren deserves payment for what she did in the war, they should’ve kept the same energy for Nesta because she had no small role in that either). I just think they handled it badly. Not exactly how you’d talk to someone suffering from PTSD, depression and survivor’s guilt. For one, threatening a worse alternative isn’t helpful. Secondly, There were way too many people in that room. More than necessary. Feyre and Elain would’ve been enough AS HER FAMILY (and I’ll get to details on this in a moment). And Feyre was the only decent one handling it as someone who actually was looking for a better outcome and really had the intention to help, someone who wasn’t there just to humiliate. Amren and Rhys were only there to land jabs and poke at her insecurities and bad coping mechanisms. Rhys used his power on her to force her to obey him and we all know how it’s a big NO among them. Many of those in the IC had worse coping mechanisms. But what she was doing was too much for them to handle? She was self-destructing. And she kept her distance. If I told someone I needed my space and they kept poking their head in my business, I sure as hell would lash out. When someone needs space, their privacy should be respected. No matter how long it takes them.
And I don’t see where the problem with her drinking was. She never showed up to events drunk. We never saw her hungover the day after. She was spending some money on drinking yes, but it did not get out of hand. She was also spending money on food and gambling. All in all, not the worst coping mechanism among those who were criticizing her. Not to mention that everyone who criticized her were drinkers as well, and they all slept around during some part of their lives.
Now the problem with the presence of other people in that room, other than Feyre (if Elain didn’t wish to attend and preferred to have some space between her and and Nesta, it’s her choice) anyway, only Feyre’s presence was required. Everyone else there was just an accessory, only adding stress to the atmosphere, forcing Nesta to get on the defensive with the way they slut shamed her, shamed her for drinking, shamed her for not being able to take a bath even though she told Feyre how the water still scares her, etc. I can see Sarah wanted it to look like a “family” intervening. Like some tough love sort of thing. But she failed. Simply because, the IC might be Feyre’s found family and she might take such a talk from them because it would really be tough love. As for Nesta, she doesn’t view them as family. She barely knows them. So for a group of strangers, or let’s say newly acquainted people, to sit around her and point out her every flaw and shame her for every misstep, who wouldn’t lash out at that? It’s enough she’s forced to spend time among them, on holidays she doesn’t really believe in, where they force her to attend but actively ignore her presence and treat her like a ghost. Why make her come if they don’t enjoy her company? It’s just ridiculous. Then when she gets angry from all the pushing and lashes out and it’s entirely her fault. they’re all like “come to our gatherings where we will insult you, nitpick all your unhealthy coping mechanisms, but don’t be offended and seclude yourself, we all took decades to deal with our trauma and killed people while doing it but your coping mechanisms are unhealthy. And your actions are unforgivable because you lash out at us when we shove ourselves down your throat. How can you not like us? Everyone has to like us.” Then she gets thrown away to a war camp, a FUCKING WAR CAMP, while a big part of her trauma is because of war. And instead of dealing with her face-to-face, while being gentle and showing her they’re on her side WITHOUT JUDGEMENT, WITHOUT WINCING AND GLANCES AT EACH OTHER AND INNER CONVERSATIONS ABOUT HER WHERE SHE’S EXCLUDED, they’re like “we’re tired of your shit so here’s a house you can stay in while you sort this out away from our merry little circle, which has its nose up your business anyway. But still, sort it out away from us.” And in that house she became more and more closed off and her healing - and I will die on this hill - her healing DID NOT start until the house came into play which was her own doing. And it kicked off because of Emerie and Gwyn, who both didn’t judge her, didn’t demonize her, didn’t only see the bad in her, but accepted her as she was and loved every part of her. Showed her that she was not a waste of life and there are things to live for. As for the beloved inner circle? Beyond insulting her and her coping mechanisms, They don’t tell her about the weapons SHE made, because pro-colonization Amren doesn’t think it’s wise, that Nesta would use it against the world. (Amren do you hear how stupid you sound?) they always villianize her, assuming she’d be out to take the world and take revenge on everyone who ever glanced her way. They assumed she was bad, they assumed because she was angry, that she would use her power for killing and terrorizing and building an Empire like they all do. When all she wanted to do was listen to music and be around good company who passed her no judgement.
Anyway, getting into some details with each character:
Feyre: I hated Feyre’s “crying over scrambled eggs because my image is destroyed my sister spent so much money on drinking”. And the fact that when telling Nesta she was doing this for her own good, she told her she was embarrassed for her own image in the same breath. But beyond that I was fine with her. I loved her reconcilation with Nesta. I loved that she was one who wanted to give Nesta more time, recognized that she needed her own time. I love them together. I think without everyone’s interference, their reconcilation would’ve happened much faster. They were already making progress before ~some people~ ruined everything and caused Nesta to be closed off again. I don’t hate that Nesta sacrificed her power to save Feyre in the end. She’s her sister and she loves her and this is not the first time she proved this. She would do anything to protect her sisters and she hates herself for the times she misstepped. Even though it wasn’t her fault and there was a full grown man sitting there who conveniently got a redemption arc. What angers me though, is that it was only after this, that the inner circle viewed her as someone who is worth their respect. And made the sacrifice materialistic by drowning Nesta with gifts. She didn’t do it for their acceptance or for their love, or for payment. She did it because her sister needed help. Period. (Sidenote: I’m writing a post where I delve deep into their relationship, which I will eventually post, because I think I reached an understanding about their relationship)
Elain: let me get something out of the way, she has power. She has free will, she’s not a baby. She’s a grown woman who doesn’t need coddling. I hate how the fandom views her as a baby. And she’s constantly infantilized, preventing her from reaching her full potential. Now that that’s out of the way, here are my 2 cents on her, since she wasn’t in this book much: Nesta’s wording was very clear, yet I’ve seen this scene misread all over the timeline. Nesta said “I sat by your side for weeks. Weeks, while you wasted away, refusing food and drink. While you appeared to hope you’d just wither and die. No one suggested you either shape up or be shipped back to the human lands.” Nesta’s problem is NOT that Elain wasn’t “there” as in “by her side”. She explicitly stated she needed space. Nesta’s problem was that she stood between Elain and anyone who might tell her to snap out of it and lock her trauma in some dark room in the back of her head. She made sure Elain had her time. While Elain agreed to pack her bags and didn’t prevent them from shipping her away, deciding her time was up. All she wants is time, and Elain didn’t have her back on this. Then we have the fact that Elain slut-shamed Nesta. And then when Nesta comes to the party this time, Elain meets her at the door and her reaction instead of saying hi and leaving it at that or simply ignoring her, is “did Feyre pay you this time?” I’m torn on where to stand on the Elain-Nesta situation, a part of me is disappointed in Elain. I think she should’ve handled this better than anyone else because she was there, she witnessed the trauma happen, Nesta was there for her, they grew up being inseparable the entire time. If anyone should understand her better than anyone else, it’s Elain. So why did she abandon her to everyone’s judgement? And a part of me is like maybe she knew whatever she voted wouldn’t matter because the IC were taking the step anyway, and didn’t want to be there when it happened. Or maybe she’s still dealing with her own trauma in her own way and doesn’t want a confrontation. But I always circle back to the sl*t-shaming and the shaming about the drinking, and then I think about the Solstice scene where as soon as she saw her she was like “did Feyre pay you this time?” And a part of me is angry about the shaming undertone of that too, while some part of me thinks that maybe Elain felt unwanted along with everyone else and that in order for Nesta to meet them, she has to be paid, but we will never know unless we hear it from her.
Rhysand: that piece of shit, misogynist, who used his powers to compel Nesta to obey his orders, pulled rank on her, taunted and threatened her every step of the way and utilized her for his own agenda, and was *surprised* to learn the woman has trauma. Took him being inside her head and unable to wake her up from the nightmare, because the behavior she was exhibiting wasn’t enough. [insert shocked pickatchu meme]. I also would like to add that him playing the protective love interest from his mate’s own sister, WHO COULD’VE HARMED HER IF SHE WANTED TO, but never wanted to because she’s not a bad person, is so cheap. Like- you, the guy who drugged her and made her give you lap dances, are afraid for her sake… from her sister? Who only ever used words as jabs and is generally rude? Or do you feel like you’re overpowered and are trying to fill the void in your toxic masculinity and reassert dominance ?
Cassian: He was patient with her, and probably the healthiest person in the inner circle who dealt with her until she was okay, but he still silently agreed with all the shit that was said about her. Shit she didn’t deserve to be said about her as someone going through trauma. He mocked whatever progress she made on the stairs calling it pathetic in the beginning. He stayed silent when Nesta was stripped of her will, when she was told she belongs in the Court of Nightmares, when her fate was decided for her, when she was being lied to, when she was threatened to be thrown to the humans who would kill her. He made some progress and understood her better with time, but it doesn’t excuse how he stayed silent when she was being mistreated. Specially since he claims her loves her. He also stayed silent as the Inner Circle despised her presence but still used her to reach what they’re plotting for. He progressed, and he got better, I’ll give him that. But still, as someone who claims he loves her the way he does, he shouldn’t have allowed his friends to manipulate and use her in their schemes but then exclude her from everything else, even knowledge about her own power. But I love that he was patient, that he worked to understand her, that he grew to stand up for her. I would argue that they are the healthiest ship written by SJM this far.
Mor: fucking Mor, who experienced trauma, told Nesta she belongs in the court of Nightmares. Where she was abused herself. Knowing women are viewed as objects there, knowing Nesta would recieve abuse there. She said that, wishing abuse on someone who she simply didn’t like and had some quarrels with. They never saw eye to eye and that’s fine. They always had sharp tongues when talking to each other and that’s fine. What’s not fine though, is that THIS of all things, seemed so out of character for Mor. Now, she never knew Nesta was a survivor of SA. But as someone who helps SA victims, she’s the last person I expected such a comment from. It felt very out of character. I hate that this is the Bi character in all of this mess. Of all people, a hypocrite is the Bi person. The LGBTQ community deserves better. I thought about it, and maybe Mor, being like a stranger to Nesta, and seeing her ignore Cassian in front of the Illyrians who already look down on him, made her angry to the point where she just wanted to land a jab and didn’t think her words would mean anything. Maybe all she wanted to do was stand up for Cassian, but what she said was definitely not true and not okay. I wanted her and Nesta to have a talk about it, but also she grew to have decent conversations with her and she helped her when she and Cassian had that fight. So I don’t know, maybe it’s a silent progress between them.
Amren: this one told her she was a waste of life. What a great way to deal with someone who’s suffering from PTSD and depression and having suicidal thoughts, Amren. Tell them they’re a waste of life, enforce every thought they are having as fact, push them to the point where they doubt they should be breathing, and when they’re told they could tumble down a mountain and break their bones while hiking, their first thought would be “good”. Amren deserves a medal, a badge of honor for being the 500+ old woman who has healthy ways of dealing with traumatized people telling them they don’t deserve to live because the thoughts of their power and dealing with controlling that power right now is so overwhelming. Amren, who decided that because Nesta was always angry, she had no right to know that she used her power unknowingly and forged powerful weapons. Amren, who was pushing for colonization throughout this book, was afraid of Nesta misusing her power. Villainizing Nesta’s every thought, as if Nesta wasn’t overwhelmed from the thought of possessing so much power, as if Nesta doesn’t refuse to use her powers and train. As if Nesta is out there hiding as she masters her power to reemerge and turn the world upside down. You’re the one who’s pushing Rhys to colonize other territories and become high king, Amren. Maybe *you* should be locked up in the house of wind for therapy. What hurts most in this is Amren was her friend. She trusted Amren. Amren said that shitty line to her and then lied to her and manipulated her and used her to further Rhys’s agenda. She flopped from telling Feyre that Nesta is immortal and a few years are nothing, and she should be given time. She would not betray her trust, to whatever she turned into in ACOSF. And everyone give SJM a round of pats on the back and an applause for making Amren the wise one here and making Nesta, the traumatized one who was wronged, get on her knees and apologize. I mean- if you thought this apology scene was necessary, then clarification about the fight between them was just as necessary. Or you include neither scene. But deeming the apology important and not the incident? This is some victim blaming on a whole other level.
The House of Wind: The house of wind was honestly one of the best parts of this book. It was Nesta, “Lady Death” as they call her, breathing life into something, and it was gentle, and it was patient, and it was understanding, and it pushed her to be healthier without judging, without throwing insults or slut-shaming. It hated that she didn’t eat? It kept waiting for her until her body gave out and she had to eat. It didn’t like her drinking? It gave her water when she asked for wine. It showed her its darkest part where she found the greatest warmth as well, as if saying don’t be ashamed of your darkness because in it you’ll find light, and it didn’t abandon her or stop responding to her when she was angry. It was actively by her side, without any judgement, only support and pushing her to fix the behaviours without dissing her. and it was everything those people around her weren’t. It was family.
Gwyn: their first meeting wasn’t at all what you would call “friendly”, to a fault by Nesta. Gwyn didn’t even know anything about Nesta, yet she didn’t react with even more anger as ~others~ did, she didn’t fear Nesta, or give a retort, or get angry and lash out at her. She took the blow and was, with all the calm in the world, like fine, you want to tell on me, go tell. And Nesta did go tell on her, then realized by herself how she acted rashly. And later helped Gwyn without being asked to, by swapping the book so Merrill doesn’t scold her. And their friendship grew to the point where Gwyn, a traumatized person who couldn’t dare leave the library, started training with her, was her friend and had conversations with her that didn’t center her trauma or her coping mechanisms being analyzed. She went out of the library for the first time in 2 years when she knew Nesta needed her by her side. She occupied her mind with stories of Valkyries, women being strong and unyielding in a society which didn’t allow it. She took her hand and gave her a purpose in life to work for. Gave her a friend who didn’t judge, a kind face in the maelstorm of judgemental faces. Until she felt like a safe space to Nesta to the point where she spilled all her thoughts, the ones she could only admit to herself, to Gwyn, letting her inside those walls. And when she braced for judgement, she didn’t receive it. Gwyn dealing with someone’s trauma, as someone who’s been through trauma herself, is one of the beautiful corners of this book
Emerie: Another woman with trauma. She sees Nesta enter her store, of course she knows who she is, yet she doesn’t judge her. Nesta asks about making the fatigues warmer, Emerie says she’ll ask, but it’s costly. Nesta says then she can’t afford it, admits that she was cut off, Emerie, as a stranger, doesn’t judge her. She says she could make them anyway and she can pay her as she can. Because no one should feel cold. It’s simple, irrelevant. Nesta wouldn’t freeze to death, she as a stranger has no obligation to help, it’s a simple reasoning. “You shouldn’t feel cold”. It’s enough for her to help Nesta. Something as mundane as feeling cold. She asks her to join her for a meal. And Nesta asks her if she would join the training, which Emerie refuses. and Nesta blurts out that she didn’t take her for a coward. And later, Nesta sends her the herbs she wishes to get which she can’t get often because of her location, and it’s a message of “you too deserve to see what’s best in the world, to go out and experience the beautiful parts and live, not just exist”. So Emerie goes to training with her as well, and they bond over romance novels. Emerie also reaches a point where she opens up about her own trauma, and tells the truth about what she faced and her survival. This girl who is 50-something at least, who has never had friends, living a lonely secluded life, finally found someone who was trustworthy enough to be around and form a bond with. As for the fact that she is a PoC, and the illyrians are portrayed as this group of savages who abuse their women and their women have no say in their lives and futures and how they clip their women’s wings, when wings, wingspan and wingplay heavily imply that wings are erogenous parts of the body and wing clipping seems to be the equivalent of Circumcision, which again so happens to be done by the “PoC savages who abuse their women”, hits a whole lot as fucking racist and xenophobic. PoC deserve a storyline where they’re not viewed as the villains.
Azriel: I loved his relationship with Nesta. He was the best chaperon™️, he never spoke in judgement toward her. There was a silent understanding between them. However, I’m not against him showing his feelings toward Elain or her toward him. It’s fine, if that’s what they both want. I don’t think Lucien is the type to call for a blood duel. He simply brings her presents and attends when invited, he doesn’t force himself on her and keeps his distance. However I did hate that Azriel took the necklace and gave it to Gwyn, as a secondhand. I know his only intention was to make her smile but the necklace wasn’t meant for her. It’s not a trial by error, he can’t just keep trying out with different women every time he fails with one. And I’ll just leave this here.
The elephant in the room: the entire IC is involved in this, them all blaming Nesta, framing her as the wrong person, when she told Feyre about the dangers of her pregnancy? I don’t care if she did it while she was angry, her heart was in the right place. She got hurt from them deciding her fate without her involvement, voting on her, not once, but twice, about her fate because she wasn’t fast enough to deal with her trauma, then again when deciding if she should know about what she did with her own power and the weapons. and she showed Feyre what was really at play. Protecting her from what she faced with the Inner Circle. Just because she was angry while doing it does not mean she did it out of spite. She did it to expose them, specially Amren at that point. But I don’t get how it was twisted to “because she wanted to hurt Feyre”. She wasn’t even angry at Feyre. But you all would rather suck up to the Inner Circle than confront the fact that they’re hypocrites and liars with a propaganda. They’re evil. They fear Nesta using her power to seize control of everyone because it’s how THEY are. With all this High King crap. Basically colonization dreams. With how they press rank whenever it suits them, and lie about the law to win arguments. It’s because those who are inherently bad think everyone is bad just like them.
Other Elephants in the room which have been here a long time: the thing with blaming Nesta for not being the breadwinner… I could never get it. Some have money-earning skills, others don’t. She, at the point of her life when she was human, was only trained in dancing and appealing to men socially so she could uplift the family’s social status. She couldn’t hunt. Feyre could. And NEITHER, should’ve been the breadwinner. Nesta was willing to starve to death if it would push her father to do something. Feyre wasn’t willing to wait and starve or watch anyone starve. But it doesn’t mean Nesta was at fault. She was only 3 years older than Feyre. Let’s leave the “the oldest child has to step in for the parents when the parents fail” mentality in the past. It’s ridiculous. Nesta was under no obligation to be the breadwinner. And she suffered self-flagellation regularly for letting Feyre walk out there and hunt. But she literally had no skills that when she thought of something to do, she could only think of selling herself on the streets. The parents were abusive, both of them. Favoring one child over the other and planting rivalry between the siblings. “i love you” means nothing. NOTHING, when there is no action to prove it. And if anything, this book made me realize that Nesta was never okay. She was never in a good place mentally. I mean, I knew, but this book just proved it. Her mother favored her alright, but it was not in a loving way. She simply exploited her to climb the social ladder. She didn’t give her love, she gave her instructions. She enabled the grandmother to beat her, and instill some “harsher punishments” one of which Nesta still holds the scars for. She was called worthless, as a child. Why? Because she made a wrong step in a dance. She was physically and verbally abused, and her mother let it happen. Yet she was the only one who would give Nesta the time of day so Nesta still loved her. As a child, her mother was the only person who showed interest in her and she clung to. However twisted it was, it’s the only love she ever got. The only love she knew. Then she lost her. and later the family also lost their wealth. So all she was taught to do her entire life suddenly became meaningless because she can’t achieve what her mother “trained” her to do. And we know the rest of the story. She never felt at home, not even when her mother lived and she still had that wealth. She admitted as much. She was never fine. She might’ve appeared the part, but it was never true. And since she was so good at masking her emotions, nobody was the wiser.
side note: As for her power being the “bare minimum” now, there better not be a plothole, since Rhysand couldn’t contain merely the “surface of her power” because it was too much. and if that’s all she retained, then it’s good enough for me.
#acosf#a court of silver flames#a court of silver flames spoilers#acosf spoilers#nesta archeron#nesta acosf#feyre archeron#elain archeron#cassian#anti rhys#anti rhysand#azriel#gwyn berdara#emerie acosf#emerie of illyria#mor#the morrigan#sjm#sarah j maas#a court of frost and starlight#a court of mist and fury#a court of thorns and roses#a court of wings and ruin#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#anti amren#nessian#pro nesta
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I find it interesting that Bucky and Zemo's final confrontation was framed as a mutual forgiveness. I think it adds real complexity to Zemo's character, and further depth to Bucky's.
Zemo escaped, but did not run. He didn't go into hiding, he didn't start trying to kill all of the other remaining super soldiers. Instead, he went to stand at a memorial to his fallen people, knowing he would be found by Bucky. He stood still as Bucky put a gun in his face, and would have taken the bullet without resistance. This humanizes him. It makes us remember that, while he has done many horrible things, he is still a man. A person.
Bucky is in similar shoes, having done many horrible things himself. And Bucky wanted to prove to Zemo that it is possible to leave those horrible things behind. He wanted to make a point by showing that no, the Winter Soldier really was dead (even if he doesn't fully believe that), and he didn't need to kill Zemo to stop feeling bitter or to assuage his guilt. Bucky wasn't that man anymore, he wasn't the Winter Soldier, and he proved that here to both Zemo and himself. By letting Zemo live, Bucky emphasizes his own humanity.
And maybe Zemo would have died to prove a point. Maybe he would have taken that bullet to show that super soldiers are always dangerous and evil and cannot be changed or trusted--something he has clearly wanted to believe for as long as we've known him. But Sam, earlier in the series, pointed out Zemo's reluctance to apply that thought process to Bucky. In direct conflict with his beliefs about all other super soldiers, Zemo doesn't want to kill Bucky, and he says as much when Bucky finds him.
This may confuse us as the audience, since we are accustomed to thinking of Zemo a certain way; but, when we think of him as a person, with all of his complexities and contradictions, instead of as an archetype, the reason for his exception of Bucky becomes clear.
Zemo does what he does to make amends. The fact that Bucky finds him standing at the memorial for Sokovia serves to emphasize this. Zemo is a man in mourning. He grieves for the country he lost, for the family he lost, for the life he used to have and the person he used to be which were buried in Sokovian rubble and never got out. He mourns for his people and the destruction that was caused, and he sees his mission as a way to try to make things right. To correct the mistakes of the past.
The reason he does not want to kill Bucky is that he sees himself in Bucky. Bucky, too, is a man desperately trying to repair the damage of the past. To make amends. To heal. And there is a part of Zemo, the human part, that sees that broken man instead of the super soldier. In a way, Zemo wants Bucky's efforts to succeed, because he wants to see that human effort can make a difference. If Bucky can heal from everything he's lost, maybe Zemo can too. Maybe the pain and suffering can be changed. Maybe things can, somehow, be made right.
Zemo, perhaps without acknowledging it outright, wants Bucky to prove him wrong. Part of him, despite his insistence otherwise, wants Bucky to show him that he isn't the Winter Soldier. And although he seems surprised when Bucky drops the bullets, he went into the meeting not expecting Bucky to have a gun--he didn't expect Bucky to kill him. Some part of him already believed that Bucky wasn't the Winter Soldier. To see this, all we have to do is look at what he says to Bucky.
Zemo tells Bucky, "I took the liberty of crossing off my name in your book." Later in the episode, Sam tells Bucky that Bucky's been "stopping the bad guys he enabled as the Winter Soldier" and calling that making amends because it makes him feel better, so initially the audience might think that Zemo crossed his name out because he knew Bucky would stop him. And that's part of it, but not the whole thing.
Zemo's next sentence is the key to the whole scene. He looks at Bucky and he says, "I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do." He explicitly forgives Bucky, and in doing so, supports the true purpose of Bucky's list: to give closure to those Bucky has harmed.
And maybe that seems backward, that Zemo would forgive Bucky--after all, wasn't it Zemo that tortured Bucky? What does Zemo have to forgive him for? Well, let's consider Zemo's philosophy, namely, that all super soldiers are evil, dangerous, and cannot be trusted. In a way, Bucky's mere existence (in Zemo's mind) would have been damaging. And Bucky's actions as the Winter Soldier would be the ultimate proof of Zemo's point. It would be easy for Zemo to take that and run with it, claiming that the Winter Soldier's atrocities were a natural consequence of the serum, that it was a given that couldn't have been avoided, and that Bucky himself was nothing but a threat--that he was someone damaging by nature.
Additionally, Zemo's name was written in Bucky's book, something that Zemo describes (and Sam also confirms) is a book of people that Bucky wronged as the Winter Soldier. Whether or not Zemo was actually harmed by Bucky's actions, Bucky clearly thought that he needed to make amends--and this is despite the fact that Zemo was already in prison. That means that for Bucky, Zemo's name wasn't about getting justice, like some of the others were. It was about Step 3: telling Zemo, proving to him, that Bucky wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. Getting Zemo to acknowledge that, and in that acknowledgment, getting forgiveness.
And that's exactly what Zemo does. Let's look again at what Zemo says to Bucky: "I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do." Zemo is saying he doesn't hold the actions of the Winter Soldier against Bucky, because he now can acknowledge that it wasn't his instinct to do those things, as Zemo has always wanted to believe. Zemo says Bucky "thought he had to," and that language shows that Zemo knows it wasn't something Bucky wanted or could have walked away from. The Winter Soldier wasn't someone the serum made him into, since the serum can only bring out more of yourself; instead, the Winter Soldier was tortured into existence. That means that Bucky was never truly the Winter Soldier. Zemo can see that now.
Zemo crossed his name off because Bucky proved him wrong. And that is more than forgiveness for Bucky, as was the purpose of the list; that is, in its own way, Zemo's apology to Bucky. In acknowledging that he was wrong, Zemo finally acknowledges James Buchanan Barnes.
And by allowing Zemo to do this--to cross his name off in a book Bucky told him never to touch--Bucky accepts his apology. He forgives Zemo.
And, finally, he forgives himself.
#this may not be a perfectly complete analysis but i spent like 2 hours on this so i am calling it good lol i had a lot of thoughts#bucky barnes#helmut zemo#tfatws#tfatws spoilers#fatws#fatws spoilers#the falcon and the winter soldier#marvel#meta#my meta posts#quality meta seal of approval#not to hype my own post up i just put that on all meta posts so that i can find them#kay can i just catch my breath for a second
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