#we are heading into a wave of hate that has the potential to repeat history in the worst way imaginable. get a fucking grip.
Text
While I intend this blog to remain a largely news-free space due to the constant hellstate of the world, let me be clear that I stand in full support of both the Palestinian and Jewish peoples who are currently experiencing relentless hate and suffering in these horrid times.
I am disgusted at the number of people, especially "progressives" on this website who have used this situation to spread both Islamophobia and Antisemitism. This goes double if you dared to reblog those "punch nazis/fascists <3" and "[x] are welcome here!" posts while in the next breath spreading dangerous fucking narratives that kill people.
So many people in online political spaces evidently see this as nothing more than a case of picking "sides", when ultimately what matters is supporting the oppressed against fascist governments and militias, wherever they are.
Common people will always have more alike with each other than their leaders. This is not a novel concept. Your activism should always be motivated by love and compassion first, and hatred second. If you use your beliefs as an excuse to find an acceptable target to vent your hatred towards regardless of the actual material outcome, you are no fucking activist.
You're a bigot.
#current events#antisemitism#islamophobia#scrawny rambles#scrawny speaks#again i have not been saying much both for the fact that this blog is meant to be a quiet place#and that i do not consider myself to be a reliable source of serious information and/or morals#but regardless i have been watching i have been taking note#i see you i hear you#and while i am currently in no position to materially help right now#the moment i can i will#i don't like signalling this kind of thing because i want it to be evident in how i *act*#but as this cannot be taken as a given i will say this:#you are welcome here. i am so sorry the world is hateful and vile and i wish i could wipe it all away.#you and your folk did nothing to deserve this and you are right to be scared. and i wish to give you my love.#fascism and genocide are not things to be taken lightly. bigoted 'jokes' are vile and dangerous. human life is what's at stake.#we are heading into a wave of hate that has the potential to repeat history in the worst way imaginable. get a fucking grip.#i'm unlikely to address this further as again. reasons stated above. but i wanted to make my stance clear.#it is late as fuck and i'm pissed. people who should know better miss the fucking memo completely.#i'm fucking glad i unfollowed a popular blogger when i did because look what they're posting now. antisemetic 'jokes'.#i really wonder how common this shit truly is. how many people get away with cloaking themselves as 'progressive.'#or perhaps they genuinely think they are. cognitive dissonance is one hell of a drug. fuck them regardless. scum.#you are no progressive. you are a bigot. a leftist bigot is a bigot regardless of how 'revolutionary' you posture to be.#anyhow apologies for any errors. again. it's late. hope you guys are doing well <3
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good Talk, Headmaster
This fic is based on this post by @nightwingthebooty. Thanks for the inspiration
There was an awkward silence that hovered over the three occupants in the spacious office of the headmaster of West-Reeve Academy. Bruce could feel a tension headache starting to rise behind his left eye radiating to his left temple. The person responsible for said tension headache was sitting the a chair right next to him with graceful aloofness.
“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, through gritted teeth.
“Excuse me, I can’t have an interest in my son’s ‘education’?” Talia answered, making air quotes as she said the last word.
“You’ve never shown an interest in anything regarding our son,” Bruce retorted. “Why start now?”
“I do when certain decisions interfere with my child’s wellbeing.”
“Since when?” Bruce challenged, turning in his seat to face Talia.
“Since now. Honestly, Bruce, this is the best you’ve decided for our son?” Talia argued, gesturing toward the Headmaster. “This mediocre institution is stifling our son’s potential.”
“Ms al Ghul, if I may interject. This is the best private institution in the East Coast; and Damian is excelling in all subjects,” Headmaster Adams said, gesturing at the open file in front of him.”
“If that is the case then why are we here?” Talia sneered, tilting her head.
“It is a matter of your son’s behavior and actions toward other teachers and fellow students.” Headmaster Adams said, squirming under Talia’s glare.
“What happened?” Bruce asked, fighting hard not to sag his shoulders in defeat.
“Numerous times Damian has interrupted a professor mid lecture to argue and inform the teacher that and I quote…” Adams paused to direct his attention to the sheet of paper and read from it. “…your inaptitude to accurately teach the true events of this particular moment in history is a direct reflection of the limits of your mediocre and outdated education.”
“He said this to a teacher?” Bruce asked, sitting straighter in his chair. Bruce was taken aback by this new information. They had discussed on many occasions that challenging the professor was acceptable. Insulting the professor was not.
“That is correct, Mr Wayne. Damian made him cry. Took a whole day to get Professor Axel out of his office.”
“Was Damian, at the very least, correct in his assessment of the subject matter being discussed?”
“Talia, that’s not the point,” Bruce countered, placing his hand on his head in exasperation. He took a breath and addressed the Headmaster. “I will discuss this matter with Damian –“
“Why should you? There is nothing to discuss if Damian was correct. He was taught by the best tutors money could buy when he lived with me.”
“That’s the problem, Talia. He never should have been living with you in the first place,” Bruce retorted.
“I’ll have you know that while he was living with me, he was –“
Headmaster Adams loudly cleared his throat.
“If we may continue, there is also the matter of Damian’s interaction with other students,” Adams continued, clasping his hands together.
“Oh boy,” Bruce muttered, scrubbing his face harshly. “Whose nose did he break this time?”
“No, no. Mr Jefferies has steered clear of Damian since their altercation on the grounds at the start of term. No one will even come near Damian now, except the Kent boy, but he talks to everyone,” Adams cleared his throat again. “Anyway, regarding Damian, he’s quite protective of the younger students and he also helps many of the other students with their homework.”
“Where is the concern?” Talia asked, crossing her arms.
“We also discovered that Damian was helping a number of our high school students with their homework. Some had him help them with college entrance exams.”
“And by ‘helping’ do you mean providing them with the answers and doing their homework?” Bruce questioned, slowly starting to sag in his chair.
“No, nothing like that; he was charging a fee for his services. A very sizable fee if I’m being honest.”
“As he should,” Talia remarked, sitting back and gazing at her nails. “Considering the staff you have employed here your students need all the help they can get.”
“Talia, you’re not helping,” Bruce hissed, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees.
“He even drummed up a contract,” Adams said, producing a piece of paper and handing it to Bruce. “By the looks of it he had it notarized.”
“As he should,” Talia remarked, pulling out a glass file from her purse and filing her nails. “My son is not an idiot.”
“So he wasn’t cheating, just tutoring and essentially helping older students prepare for college tests,” Bruce inquired, handing the contract back to the professor.
“Yes, but we can’t have him charging money for those kinds of services,” Adams reiterated, folding his hands in front of him.
“Why not? These students’ parents would likely pay for the same services to an outsider. How convenient for these students to find someone ‘in house’,” Talia challenged, taking the contract from the desk and looking it over. “T-T, you are worth so much more than this, my son.”
Bruce snatched the paper back from Talia and placed it back onto the professor’s desk. He didn’t want to admit it. Fuck he hated that he agreed with every single word she just said. The worst part was having to admit it out loud that Talia al Ghul was finally right about a matter concerning their son.
“She’s right, Professor,” Bruce said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Damian wasn’t cheating or breaking any laws or school policies. He was providing a service to students to help better their education. Are any of the parents complaining?
“No.”
“Are any of the students complaining?” Bruce asked.
“No.”
“Then we are done here,” Talia declared, picking up her handbag and standing up.
“We are not done here, Ms al Ghul,” Adams squeaked, straightening himself in his chair. “The issue at hand –“
Talia set her handbag down on the chair and walked closer to the desk. Holding her glass file in her hand as she addressed the Headmaster.
“Do you know who I am, Headmaster?” Talia inquired in a low tone, reaching over the desk and closing the open file on Damian.
The Headmaster glanced at Bruce, but Bruce kept his face neutral, sat back in his chair and got comfortable. The Headmaster swallowed thickly and nodded in response to Talia’s question.
“The only issue I see here are the fragile egos of second-rate teachers at an overrated institution,” Talia continued, keeping the tone of her voice low. Bruce was familiar with the tactic. Talia used it to intimidate executives in business deals.
Talia moved back toward the chair and sat down. Depositing her handbag on the floor.
“There was a lack and my son saw an opportunity to fill a need. Plain and simple,” Talia reiterated, continuing to file her nails. “If it makes you feel any better I will have him redistribute the money back into the school so that you may invest in better resources to help your students flourish. Does this arrangement suffice?”
The Headmaster was speechless. His mouth kept flapping open and closed like a fish out of water. He kept glancing at Bruce, but Bruce wasn’t going to ruin this moment for Talia. She didn’t need him to interject one bit.
“Good talk, Headmaster,” Talia ended the conversation, gathering her handbag and exiting the office. She waved her hand dismissively. “Until next time.
Bruce got up from his chair and couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. They had finally agreed on something concerning Damian.
“Until next time, Headmaster,” Bruce repeated and held out his hand for the Headmaster to shake.
#bruce wayne#talia al ghul#batman#fic prompt#parent/teacher conference#co parenting#batdad#semi crack fic#talia is a mama bear#bruce is a tired dad#my fics#damian wayne
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sjur Eido, from inventing war to pursuing peace
Three theses:
Sjur Eido started the Theodicy War.
Contrary to popular belief, her hesitation to kill Mara Sov doesn’t come from Mara’s “thoughtless grace and beauty”
She had learned Eliksni language and customs in an attempt for a diplomatic end to the Reef Wars and, potentially, partially redeem her past sins. Unfortunately, she was killed too early.
The first thesis is the one in which the third hinges upon. The evidence is circumstantial, but there is quite a bit.
I. The second crime ever committed
In Fideicide II we have this passage:
One of the 891 fell today, shot down by a matter laser, a coherent boson weapon: There was almost nothing left to burn. Matter lasers are the kind of appalling maltech weapon Alis thought she'd locked up in the Shipspire's vaults. She'd armed a few of her Paladins with them, just a few—women she couldn't bear to lose…
The thought that one might have defected to the Diasyrm breaks her heart.
And in Imponent III:
Historians were called to the court with bouquets of sweet flowers and grant money to speak of Sjur Eido. "She was one of Queen Alis Li's Paladins, but she was an Eccaleist, who believed that we would one day be called to repay the gift of our awakening."
There we have our defecting Paladin - and this was common knowledge after the war, that Sjur Eido was an Eccaleist and that she had been a Paladin. Nowhere it is said that this was the first shot fired in the War, though, but put a pin in that.
Flash-forward to Tyrannocide III, when the Awoken were already in the Reef, and Mara is starting to plant the seeds for her katabasis. Before she walks to her death, she confesses her worst secret to Sjur, both immersed in vacuum, isolated from everything else in a spacewalk.
"Sjur, I have this secret, this thing I did, and I don't know if anyone can know it without hating me forever."
"I had a secret too," Sjur reminds her. "The thing I did…"
"It's nothing compared to mine. Nothing at all."
As mentioned before, it was a known fact that Sjur was a Paladin, a deserter, and an Eccaleist. So what could her secret be, if not that she had been the first killer?
(Which is pretty fitting, given the parallels between the Osmium Court and the Awoken Royal Family. Oryx and Uldren, navigators. Mara and Savathûn, mistresses of lies. Sjur and Xivu Arath, incarnations of war)
II. Does blood wash blood?
The Theodicy War ends with the disappearance of the Diasyrm. This is the motivation for Sjur to declare her intention to murder Mara Sov:
Now in the court of one of the Scribes, there appeared a woman of stellar height and furious wrath, armed with a bow that could be strung only if she twined it around her body and used her whole mass to bend it. "I am Sjur Eido," said the woman, "and I accuse Mara of the ancient murder of my lady the Diasyrm. In my saddle, I have a weapon with only one death remaining. Take me to Mara, and I will deliver it."
The Scribes consulted and said to each other that this foul murder might prevent another Theodicy War. So they gave Sjur Eido all their knowledge to hunt Mara.
And here comes, in Imponent II, the infamous paragraph:
Sjur Eido deduced who among the Queen's court must be a disguised Mara Sov. She followed the hooded figure to her laboratory and watched Mara go to work soldering a makeshift bolometer to search for signs of primordial gravity waves. Sjur Eido's fury and grief whetted themselves against Mara's thoughtless grace and ancient beauty, until at last her heart unseamed itself and spilled its hot blood in a shout. "Mara Sov!" she cried, throwing down her maltech matter laser between them. "I cannot live while you live, but I cannot bear to kill you. I challenge you to a duel to the agony. I will fight your most beloved companion to the death and leave you forever maimed or else die in the attempt."
This can be easily read as “Sjur was too mission-abandonly gay to proceed with her vendetta”, but I think this is a superficial reading. Keep in mind the author of the Marasenna is Mara herself, and she warns you that
[a]ll things told, all truth revealed, if through mist and mystery. If you have grace, then see our sorrows, but swallow back your tears. We were made to pay this price. I led us to our fate.
Seek me in my place. Hear these whispers from the lips of Queen-Egged God.
This has passed through the filter of Mara Sov’s authorship. And later on Sjur Eido would become her lover, confidant, and closest thing to an equal she has had during her reign. Sjur’s internal turmoil, I think, is the kind of thing she would filter out of a history of the Distributary Awoken.
What kind of internal turmoil? The one that comes with having so much blood on her hands - the blood of immortals, no less, of immesurable value. Alis Li (well, Mara Sov, actually, but she does not know that yet) might be the biggest criminal by Eccaleist standards for having created the possibility of suffering and death, but Sjur has brought that potential into the material. She is a murderer (the first murderer) and she has had time to mull that over.
Maybe she could not kill a defenseless person in cold blood.
Maybe she wanted someone who could fight back and kill her all along. There is no evidence for that, this is true, but this would give Mara all the more reason to draw a veil over her lover’s motivations - Sjur’s mental health struggles were hers and hers alone.
3. Restitution and atonement
So we now have asserted Sjur as the first murderer in Awoken history, and as someone who regrets these actions. This contrasts with the end of her arc, when she has learned Eliksni customs and language to, presumably, understand them for a potential peace between their peoples.
In Misraaks, we read about her capture of a surly young Vandal who tries to kill himself by dashing off a cliff, and to take Sjur with him, before being a prisoner of war.
Drawing two fractal knives from sheaths on her thighs, she makes a perfect ireliis bow before him. Thunderstruck, he sits up straight. Stares.
"Not good?" she asks, and tries again.
Furious confusion takes him. This is some kind of trick. Blasphemous mockery. "Iirsoveks," he rumbles.
She shakes her head. "Nama." Sheathing one of her knives, she holds out her free hand with her fingers spread in supplication.
He draws his chin toward his throat with this fresh betrayal, narrowing his secondary eyes. It speaks!
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she lays her other knife on the ground between them. The blade points toward her boots. He watches her every movement. How many secrets have the flesh-lovers betrayed, that this creature can make peace like a cringing drekh before his kel?
She taps two fingers against her cuirass. "Sjur," she says slowly, then she points at him.
Honor-bound even as he simmers in scandal, he replies, "Misraaks. Velask, Si-yu-riks."
"Mithrax," she repeats, then grins. "Velask, Mithrax. And welcome! Let's have a look about, shall we?"
She is trying so hard to meet Misraaks in his terms, despite the power imbalance! This is, of the three theses, the flimsiest one, but I think it is a very satisfying end for her arc. She is not redeemed, if she could ever be, for starting the Theodicy War - but she tries. And in trying, she has made an indelible impact upon a young Vandal who would become the Kell of House Light.
180 notes
·
View notes
Text
SUMMARY → when a bright and loud girl comes into the 1-A classroom many old repressed memories already arise. even though aizawa praises himself for being a clear and logical thinker, he knows it can’t be him even with how quirks have evolve. yet all that logical reasoning gets thrown out when she shows her clouds at the quirk appreciation test. in the same moment aizawa promises himself he will not let history repeat itself.
PAIRING → aizawa shouta x student!reader
GENRE → platonic!relationship, hurt/comfort
WARNING → none
WORD COUNT → 1.5 k
MASTERLIST → an assortment of other fics
A/N → i read this hc about a kid in 1-A with the same quirk as shirakumo and wanted to write a scenario for it, but for the life of me i can’t find the headcanon anymore. if you can, PLEASE tell me who wrote it so i can give them the proper credit they deserve!
WHEN YOU FIRST STARTED U.A. you thought it would be fun. Hard work but fun; studying how to be a hero. Learning and working under others that have already gone pro. Not to mention walking down the halls where most of your greatest inspirations and the current number one hero had walked and harnessed their quirks so many years before you.
Something you had not expected was the constant reprimanding; “Stupid Aizawa-sensei, stupid gross tables.” you grumble annoyed, as you continue to clean the desks in the 1-A classroom, while everyone else is happily enjoying their lunches. Trying to wipe away Kaminari his smug face as he got off scot-free, making you subconsciously scrub the table harder.
What had happened wasn’t even big enough to warrant such punishment. You had put your shoes on your desk and instead of just telling you not to do it or to put your feet down, Aizawa-sensei gave you a blank stare and said; ‘if you can’t respect the desk, you should clean them.’ completely ignoring Kaminari, Tokoyami and Bakugou who had their feet on the table and where now silently putting them down.
To add to that it was not the only punishment you have gotten in the last few months, and most likely will not be the last. It started the first week of school. Laughing at Kaminari short-circling in class? Make a presentation about the benefits of laughing.
Got below an 80 in English, a subject you could not seem comprehend as well as the others, but did not do too bad at. Get singed up for cram classes. You don’t even know how he knew, not to mention how you are in the top five and definitely did not need cram classes.
Which let you to now; the final bell ringing, Aizawa-sensei dismisses the class and let’s you all go on your marry way to the dorms. Slowly packing your stuff in Kaminari, Bakugou, Sero, Ashido and Kirishima stay at the door.
“We don’t have all day, dumbass.”
Making a small smile tuck up your lips that he still took the moment to wait for you even when he pretends like it’s such a burden, “Go a head, I still have to ask a question.”
“We can wait.”
“It’s okay.” you reassure, and with that last wave and a little hesitation they left the room. Leaving you with your teacher, “Aizawa-sensei.” you say uncharastically softly. Trying to gain your teachers attention that is fully focused on his desk work, “I’m busy.”
Ignoring his dismissive words, you take a deep breath, word vomiting your question out, “Do you hate me?”
Your question seem to make the man freeze in his state. Before he slowly looks up from his work, “No.” he says simply. Nodding slowly you let the answer sink in, yet it only makes more questions come up, “Then why do you always reprimand me?”
“I give punishment where I see fit.”
Making your stomach twist into a more confused and annoyed state then it already was, “Yesterday I got punishment for having my feet on the table while I wasn’t the only one.” you point out. Shaking your head at the lack of integrity, “Kaminari, Bakugou, and Tokoyami had theirs on the table. They always do, and the one time I do it I get cleaning duty.”
“I don’t care what they did, I gave you a punishment.”
Without even realising it a cloud came up above your head, “But you always do. It’s like your breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fail!”
The cloud above your head darkening from it’s usual pale white state to a dark grey, “I wasn’t even at Cameno, and I got lunch duty for not telling you what they had planned while the rest of the class got free off. You’re singling me out and you can’t even be honest about it.” you snap, your voice louder then you ment it to be, but in the heat of the moment you could not make yourself apologise for it.
“You have a lot of potential, (l/n), but if you don’t get the proper guidance you might never be able to show the world that.”
The sincerity in his voice and the unusual soft expression on his face that you had never seen before on your teachers face made you want to believe him, but then again he lied like it was breathing air. And each time you and your entire class fell for it again.
The dark cloud had faded into oblivion as you let out a deep breath, “Well, I asked Hatsume to help me figure out what type of support items might work for me. We found someone who had a quirk like mine and they used a staff for fighting. So, now we are developing one.”
“How do you develop a staff?
“We send in a sample of my hair with the design. That was it should be more durable and be able for me to manipulate into my clouds when necessary for the element of surprise. In the meanwhile I have a wooden one,” you tell him, making him hum as he turns back to his work.
Twiddling your fingers you turn your face away, “which you would have know if you were also in All Might’s face.” you mumble, quickly looking back to your teacher if he heard what you said, but by the way his face didn’t change he didn’t hear it.
“Your cleaning duty is over.”
As soon as you arrive at the dorms you got bombarded with questions from your friends; before Iida demanded you ( and the others who hadn’t either ) to go upstairs, change into your home clothes, and help prepare dinner.
It was something you all would do every Friday, while on any other day it was devided into groups to make it for everyone else. Instead of everyone making it separately.
Soon dinner passed and it bleed into the evening as the sun went under, the blankets got pulled out as everyone went under them. Getting settled and ready for the weekly movie night; “We should watch Banana Fish, I heard it was super sad and that rocks.” Present Mic purposes.
“No, no, Dumb and Dumber, that is what the kids like…” All Might trails off, his suggestion dying on his tongue as he sees our unimpressed faces, “Right, Midoriya-shonen?” he asks the boy, trying to find anyone to agree with him… kinda a bad move to ask his super fan.
“Maybe, I don’t know- some kids like it… But, it is kind of old. We- we could watch your film.” he panics, vastly waving his arms around as his entire face blooms red.
Smiling at the sweet interactions. Ashido groans loudly, rolling her head onto your shoulder, “Just pick a movie.” she wines, “Dark Knight has always been a favourite of mine.” Tokoyami offers.
At the end Midnight offered a rom-com and it might have been the headache of listen to more suggestion and not knowing a better pick, but it got put on and it was moderiably enjoyable yet your attention was pulled outside.
Glancing outside your eyes quickly find a frame sitting alone in the dark. You quickly identify the frame as your moody teacher. Standing up for your position under the blankets you move away, “Where are you going?” Ashido mumbles.
“Just taking a breath of fresh air.”
Making a plate, you make your way out into the garden. Placing it infront of him, before taking a seat next to him. It stays quite for a moment as he takes a bite of the food you had plated. Letting the silence continue; “Why are you sitting out alone, sensei?” you ask softly, breaking the silence as he takes a sip of his drink, most likely a cup of coffee.
Glancing up at the cloudy night sky, you aren’t quite sure what you are suppose to see… Everything is just gray and very bleak, no star to be seen, “Like cloud watching?”
“It reminds me of a time I couldn’t help someone that needed me.”
“Well... my M.O. is whenever you screw up, you should just keep smiling like usual.” you tell him, making a small smile tuck up his lips as he takes another sip of his drink.
“Thank you, ( y/n ).”
MASTERLIST | KO-FI | TAGLIST → @tsukkisbae
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha x y/n#mha x y/n#bnha x you#mha x you#aizawa x reader#aizawa x you#aizawa x y/n#eraserhead x reader#eraserhead x you#eraserhead x y/n#aizawa shouta#aizawa shouta x reader#aizawa shouta x you#aizawa shouta x y/n#eraserhead#mha fluff#bnha fluff#eraserhead comfort#eraserhead fluff#aizawa shouta fluff#aizawa comfort#bakugou x reader#bakusquad x reader#todoroki x reader#aizawa x student
298 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Silent Patient vs The Maidens
I will start by saying that I understand the appeal of these novels as page-turners. They are easy to read and if you want a twisty reveal at the end, you will probably be entertained and satisfied. That being said, I am SO CONFUSED by the near-universal adoration of The Silent Patient and the reasonably positive reception of The Maidens. The weaknesses of the two are strikingly similar, as well, which doesn’t give me much hope of seeing improvement from this guy, though I am intrigued to see whether he keeps repeating the same (apparently successful!!) patterns. These books were at least super fun to hate.
(For context, I read The Maidens for a bookclub I'm in, because several of the members had read and loved The Silent Patient, and one of them gave me a copy of the latter to read on my own time. I loathed The Maidens and then read The SP for comparative purposes. And because I'm a masochist, apparently.)
SPOILER WARNING! Do not read on unless you've finished both books (or unless you care not for spoilers). Sorry if it gets a bit shouty.
Here are the similar weaknesses I noticed in both:
PSEUDO-PSYCHOLOGY
-> Weirdly similar “group therapy” scenes early on where a cartoonishly unstable patient arrives late, disrupts the meeting by throwing something into the middle of the circle, and is asked to join the group after the therapist(s) speechify on the importance of boundaries (HA! None of these therapists would know an appropriate boundary if it kicked them in the ass) and debate whether to “allow” the patient to join. Both scenes are so transparent in their design to establish the credibility/legitimacy of the narrators as therapists, but instead both Theo and Mariana come off as super patronizing. The protagonists are less and less believable as therapists at the stories progress (though at least Theo’s incompetence is explained away by the “twist” at the end; Mariana, on the other hand, is confronted in the opening pages of the novel by a patient who has self-harmed PRETTY extensively, and rather than ensure he get proper medical attention, she essentially throws him a first aid kit and tosses him out the door so she can pour herself a glass of wine and call her niece... and it devolves from there).
-> Ongoing insistence throughout the narrative that one’s childhood trauma entirely explains the warped/dysfunctional way a character behaves or views the world, which is why the books go out of their way to give EVERY potentially violent character a traumatic childhood; when Theo insists that no one ever became an abuser who hadn’t been abused themselves, I wanted to throw the book across the room. (That is a MYTH, SIR. GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR ARMCHAIR PSYCHOLOGY.)
-> Female murderers whose pathology boils down to “history of depression” and “traumatized by a male loved one/family member.” Because, as we all know, depression + abuse = murderer!
-> The “therapy” depicted in both books is laughable and so so unrealistic, mostly because neither narrators function as therapists so much as incompetent detectives, obsessively pursuing a case they have no place pursuing (or skill to pursue - both just happen across every clue mostly by way of clunky conversation with all the people who can provide precisely the snippet of info to send them along to the next person, and the next… until all is revealed in a tired, cliched “twist”). Their constant Psych 101 asides were so tiresome and weirdly dated (also, the constant harping on countertransference got so ridiculous that at one point during "therapy" Theo literally attributes his headache and a particular emotion he feels to Alicia, as though the contents of her head are being broadcast directly into his mind... and I'm PRETTY SURE that's not how it works???)
CHARACTERS
-> Psychotherapist narrators with abusive fathers and pretensions of being Sherlock Holmes, which results in both characters crossing ALL KINDS of ethical lines as they invade the personal lives of everyone even tangentially connected to their cases (and, in Theo's case, violate all kinds of patient confidentiality. Yeah, yeah, by the end, that's the least of his offenses, but before you get there, it's baffling that NO ONE is calling him out on this).
-> All female characters are either elderly with hilariously bad advice, monstrous hulking brutes, or beautiful bitches (except for ~MARIANA~, who is Bella Swan-esque in her unawareness of her own attractiveness, despite multiple men trying to get with her almost immediately after meeting her. I'm so tired of beautiful female characters being oblivious to their own hotness. Are we meant to believe all mirrors and male attention have escaped their notice? If it’s to make them “relatable,” this tactic really fails with me).
-> All characters of color are shallow, cartoonish side characters, and most of them are depicted as unsympathetic minor antagonists (the Sikh Chief Inspector in The Maidens continuously drinks tea from an ever-present thermos, and his only other notable characteristic is his instant dislike of Mariana, whom he VERY RIGHTLY warns to stay out of the investigation that she is VERY MUCH compromising… the Caribbean manager of the Grove is universally disliked by her staff for enforcing stricter safety regulations at the bafflingly poorly run mental institution, because HOW DARE SHE. There's a very clear vibe that we're supposed to dislike these characters and share the protagonists' indignation, but honestly Sangha/Stephanie were completely in the right for trying to shut down their wildly inappropriate investigations).
-> "Working class" characters (or basically anyone excluded from the comfortably upper-crust, educated main cadre of characters) are few and far between in both stories, but when they show up, he depicts them as such caricatures. We got Elsie the pathologically lying housekeeper in the Maidens, who is enticed to share her bullshit with cake, and then a TOOTHLESS LEPRECHAUN DEALING DRUGS UNDER A BRIDGE in the SP. I kid you not, a man described as having the body of a child, the face of Father Time, and no front teeth, emerges from beneath a bridge and offers to sell Theo some "grass." I was dyinggg.
-> There are no characters to root for. Anywhere. Partly because they’re all so thinly drawn — and because we’re clearly supposed to view almost ALL of them as potential suspects, so they’re ALL weird, creepy, or incompetent in some way.
-> The flimsiest of flimsy motives, both for the narrators and the murderers. Theo fully would have gotten away with his involvement in the murder if he hadn't gone out of his way to work at the Grove and "treat" Alicia and his justification for doing so is pretty weak; his rapid descent into stalking and murder fantasy and his random ass decision to "expose" Alicia's husband as a cheater with a spur-of-the-moment home invasion and staged attempted homicide is ONLY justified if the reader hand waves it away as WELP, HE'S CRAZY, I GUESS (after all, he DID have an abusive father and a history of mental illness, and in Michaelides novels, that's ALL YOU NEED to become a violent psycho). I guess we're lucky Mariana didn't also start dropping bodies (because the logic of his fictional universe says she should definitely be a murderer by now... maybe that'll be his Maidens sequel?). But she especially had NO reason to randomly turn detective - and she kept trying to justify it by saying she needed to re-enter the world or that Sebastian would want her to (??), even though she had no background in criminal psychology... or even a particular fondness for mysteries (really, I would've accepted ANYTHING to explain her dogged obsession with the case. WHY were Sebastian and Zoe so certain she would insert herself into the investigation just because one of Zoe's friends was the first victim? WHY?). As for Zoe and Alicia, their motives are mere suggestions: they were both abused and manipulated, and voila! Slippery slope to murder.
WRITING STYLE
-> Incessant allusions to Greek tragedy and myth, apparently to provide a sophisticated gloss over the bare-bones writing style, which opts more for telling than showing and frequently indulges in hilariously bizarre analogies. Credit where credit is due — the references to Greek myth are less clunky in the SP, and I liked learning about the Alcestis play/myth, which I hadn’t heard of before - but OMG the entire characterization of Fosca, who we are meant to believe is a professor of Greek tragedy at one of the most respected universities on the planet, is just absurd. His "lecture" on the liminal in Greek tragedy is essentially the Wikipedia page on the Eleusinian Mysteries capped off with some Hallmark-card carpe diem crap. The lecture hall responds with raucous applause, clearly never having heard such vague genius bullshit before.
-> Super clunky and amateurish narrative device of interludes written by another character; Sebastian’s letter reads like a mashup of Dexter monologues and Clarice’s memory of the screaming sheep, but by FAR the worse offender is Alicia’s diary, where we’re supposed to believe she painstakingly recorded ENTIRE CONVERSATIONS, BEAT-BY-BEAT DIALOGUE, even when she’s just been DRUGGED TO THE GILLS with morphine and has mere moments of consciousness left… and even before that, she literally takes the time to write “He's trying the windows and doors! ...Someone’s inside! Someone’s inside the house! ETC ETC” when she thinks her stalker has broken in downstairs. WHO DOES THAT?)
-> Speaking of dialogue, the dialogue is so bad. Based on his bio, Michaelides got a degree in screenwriting, which makes his terrible dialogue even more baffling.
-> HILARIOUSLY rendered voyeur scenes where the narrators spy on couples having sex. Such unintentionally awkward descriptions. First we had Kathy’s climax sounds through the trees and then the bowler hat carefully placed on a tombstone before the gatekeeper plows a student. Again, I died.
PLOT/"TWIST"
-> The CONSTANT red herrings make for such an exhausting read. Michaelides drops anvils with almost every character that are so obviously meant to designate them as suspects in our minds. There is absolutely no subtlety in his misdirections.
-> The “crossover” scene between the SP and The Maidens makes no sense - when in the timeline does Mariana’s story overlap with Theo’s? They confer just before Theo starts working at the Grove, obviously (though Mariana appears to be the one who alerts Theo to the job opening there? Whereas in the SP, Theo has been obsessively tracking Alicia since the murder and had already planned to apply to work there?), but then are we supposed to believe that while Theo has been psychotically pursuing his warped quest to “help” Alicia, he’s also been diligently treating Zoe, so invested in her case that he repeatedly reaches out to Mariana to get her to visit Zoe and even writes Mariana a lengthy letter to convince her to do so??? And then a couple days after The Maidens ends, Theo is arrested???
-> But the thing I really did hate the most is how Michaelides treats his female murderers (who are both also victims themselves) as mere means to deploy a “twist”; there’s no moment spared to encourage our sympathy for Zoe, who was groomed and manipulated by the only trusted father figure in her life, and even after spending a decent amount of time getting to know Alicia via her ridiculous diary, where it’s so apparent that she’s been demeaned, objectified, manipulated, gaslit, and/or used by EVERY man in her life, she’s sent packing to spend the rest of her days in a coma… HOW much more satisfying would it have been for her to succeed in exposing Theo and reclaiming her voice? But no, she basically rolls over when he comes to finish her off (SPEAKING OF — ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THERE ARE NO SECURITY CAMERAS IN THIS INSTITUTE FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE????), writes one last diary entry, and drifts off forever. And then a couple pages of nothing later, the story is over. GOODNIGHT, ALICIA!
Both books kept me rolling throughout (by which I mean eye-rolling but also rotfl). Maybe I will check out his next effort — I’m morbidly curious what he’ll turn out. It does leave me wondering whether I should give up on thriller novels entirely, though. Are many of the weaknesses of these novels just characteristic of the genre? Maybe I'm just holding these books to unfair standards? I'm mostly only familiar with thriller films — many of which I think are amazing — but maybe you can get away with more in a film than you can in a novel.
...I really only intended to write a handful of bullet points, but more and more kept coming to mind as I wrote, to the point where subheadings became necessary. Whoopsie.
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
BNHA: something sad (Anger)
Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ AU.
Katsuki gets the worst sort of wake up call, takes a look at himself, and doesn’t like what he sees.
Characters: Katsuki Bakugo
Fandom: My Hero Academia
WARNINGS: Major Character death (mentioned but not described). Swearing. heavy angst. destructive behaviour.
(Follow up part here)
...
(Anger- In which Katsuki does not handle tragedy well and implodes)
“Katsuki, son, you should come inside.”
Katsuki barely feels the soft touch of a hand on his shoulders as his father attempts to guide him over the threshold. He remains in place, glaring at the older man, unwilling to move. His father sighs and gives up on trying to move him, instead talking over his head, addressing the police officer behind him.
“Where did you find him this time?”
“The park down the road. We had reports of a kid setting off explosives with multiple noise complaints from the nearby apartments...” The sound of the conversation washes over him, muffled in his growing irritation. He feels that familiar burning anger ignite, fuelling his resentment. “...repeated unlicensed quirk use can lead to time in a juvenile quirk correction facility.”
“We’re sorry for the disruption officer,” his father dips his head, “We’ll keep a better eye on him from now on.”
“See that you do. Next time, he’ll be taking a trip to the station. I would hate to see a kid with so much potential...”
“What fucking potential!” Katsuki snarls, whipping around to glare at the officer behind him. Bitterness curdles in his stomach, exasperated by the expression of disappointment directed his way. What right did this stranger have to look at him like that! He looked at Katsuki like he wasn’t living up to expectations!
“You don’t know a thing about me!”
“Katsuki,” His father tries to interrupt.
“Why the fuck….
“Katsuki.” This time the interruption is louder, hash, “That’s enough.”
He scowls, shoving past his father, shrugging away from the comforting hand as he goes, “I’ll be in my room, don’t come in.”
He stomps through the living room and down the hallway, sparks running up and down his arms. If his mum were home she might have yelled at loud his entrance, telling him to stop with the racket. She would probably have had some choice words to say about the police escort as well. She wasn’t home. She wouldn’t be home till later, having spent most of her afternoon with Aunt Inko.
Before he can get to his room, he catches his father’s tired voice as he continues his conversation with the officer.
“…still processing the death of a friend. He’s going through a rough patch...thank you for your leniency.”
He slams the door with enough force that it rattles the wall. With his back against the frame, he clenches and unclenches his fist, breathing hard.
Friend? FRIEND! HA!
Deku had never been his friend. Or rather, he had never been Deku’s friend. Deku had probably seen him as a friend, always following him around, whinging when he got too rough with other kids. The quirkless idiot had always been trying to help when Katsuki didn’t need help! He had never needed Deku!
He smashes a fist into his desk and the wood creeks, splintering but holding together. There are more sparks and the pop, pop, pop of tiny explosions. The computer barely escapes his next attack which sees the desk cracking, his books and pens crashing to the floor.
“Damnit.”
If he wasn’t Deku’s friend, then why was he so angry! He couldn’t think. He couldn’t sleep. All he could do was feel angry. Burning directionless anger that ate at him, leaving him hollow. It followed him through his every waking moment. Inescapable and all-consuming.
“DAMNIT!”
…
School is a chore. It’s boring. Long. Tiresome. Pointless. The other kids were either idiots, dragging out simple lessons into weeklong ordeals, or so pathetic they never grasped the concepts at all. This is nothing new. School had always been boring and full of pathetic extras. For the longest time, school to Katsuki had been nothing more than a stepping stone on his way to greatness. Now it wasn’t even that.
He taps a single, impatient finger against his desk, glaring at the clock as it slowly ate away at the seconds left in the day.
“Bakugo.”
He deliberately ignores the teacher’s attempt to get his attention. It wasn’t like he was going to get in trouble for the behaviour. She would simply shake her head, humouring his poor attitude like it wasn’t a huge fucking problem. Sometimes Katsuki wondered if he didn’t have some second quirk that projected an invisible bullshit shield, preventing others from seeing what a failure he was.
Today, the call is followed up by another, more insistent one.
“Bakugo.”
He tears his eyes from the clock.
“You’re being called to the principal’s office.”
“Huh?” he drawls.
“You must not have heard the announcement,” his teacher explains, her expression apologetic, “It was over the intercom so you better hurry.” By now, every eye in the class is on him, waiting for his reaction. The pathetic extras on either side of him are even leaning ever so slightly to the side like they expect him to blow his top any moment.
“Whatever.” He stands, ignoring the wave of whispers that run through the class in hissed voices. When he steps through the door the voices get a bit louder, so loud that the teacher needs to call them to order, “Settle down. Now if you would turn your attention to this next question.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and stalks down the hall to his destination. When he arrives at the door he lifts a leg and kicks so it jumps open and smacks into the wall with a loud CRACK. The sudden action has both his principal, Mr Fukuhara, and that woman representing the district’s Careers Board-he can’t remember her name- startling.
“You called?”
They are both seated on the low couches placed at the front of the room adjacent to the principal’s desk. The only times he has been allowed to sit on these couches were during parent/teacher meetings.
“Ah, yes Bakugo,” Mr Fukuhara straightens his tie, recovering first, “Please take a seat.”
Katsuki slouches onto the closet couch opposite them, listening to the principal ramble his way through a greeting, “Now, we tried to have your parents come in but they were both unfortunately busy. Nevertheless, this is an important conversation to be hand and we want you to understand that the school is dedicated to….”
He exhales, cutting off the diatribe, “Am I in trouble.”
“No. No trouble. Though this does involve your recent behaviour.”
Of course, he wasn’t in trouble. He curls one hand into a fist, familiar anger beginning to bubble up, increasing in intensity.
“We received your revised high school submission forms,” Ms Career Advice starts, “and we think there has been a mistake. We want to clear it up as quickly as possible.”
So that is what this meeting was about.
“What mistake?” He grunts even when he knows precisely what they’re talking about.
“It says here that you're applying to Aldera Senior High.”
“Yeah, 80% of the losers in this shit hole are going Aldera Senior High. What’s the problem?”
The two adults exchange a meaningful glance. For a brief second, he thinks he might get told off for swearing. No such luck. Mr Fukuhara simply sighs and continues like Katsuki hadn’t said anything.
“We were under the impression that you would be applying to U.A.? You have it written on your original submission forms.”
“So what. I’m not allowed to change my mind? U.A. is a selective school…I’m just being realistic.” The words feel like ash in his mouth. Hadn’t he said something similar to Deku not too long ago?
“Your academic performance is more than high enough to qualify and with your quirk…”
He slams his clenched fist into the arm of the couch, cutting the woman off. There is an audible pop, pop around his hands, made loud in the sudden silence. God, would people shut up about is quirk for one second! Both adults pause, expressions a mix of worried and concerned. He hates it. He hates them.
“I got a zero on my last test,” he snaps, “My average sucks now. I’m just like the rest of the extras here.”
“Yes, well, there were extenuating circumstances in that case. When looking at your academic history overall you’re dedication is obvious,” another pause, “even in the unlikely event that you did not get into U.A. there are plenty of other, top-rate schools that you can apply to as backups.”
Katsuki doesn’t bother responding, opting instead to stand. They weren’t going to listen so there was no point in him being here.
“Bakugo please sit back down.” Fukuhara stands as well, voice now stern, “This is an important conversation. You can’t just walk away.”
“Watch me.” He turns towards the door but before he can move there is the lighter touch of a hand at his elbow.
“I understand that you have taken recent…events…rather hard,” says Ms Career Advice and her voice is softer, more sympathetic, addressing him like he is some startled child, “but you need to think about your future. Don’t throw away this opportunity out of some misplaced guilt…”
“I’m not fucking going to U.A.!”
He jerks his arm away, glaring over his shoulder, trying to force some of the fire burning in his chest into his eyes. It must have worked because the woman immediately stops talking, drawing away.
“How much shit do I have to pull for you morons to get that through your thick skulls,” he growls as he stalks out of the room, the two adults rushing to follow.
“…see… councillor…talk …. your parents. This sort of self-destructive…” The words wash over him as he continues down the hall.
Katsuki doesn’t bother returning to class, opting to ditch and leave the idiots and their bullshit behind. He is too angry to concentrate anyway. Until now he has had a perfect attendance record, always meticulous in his show of dedication.
And that’s all it really was wasn’t it…a show. None of that shit mattered now.
Hands in his pockets, Katsuki wonders aimlessly down the sidewalk, through side streets, jacket to his uniform thrown over his shoulder so he doesn’t overheat under the hot summer sun. At least out here, he is free to be as angry as he liked without people nagging him. He could glare all he wanted at the cracked pavement and it wouldn’t burst into tears. Maybe, he will go blow up some trees in a local park and the police would finally come through on their threat to take him in to the station. It’s tempting…very tempting.
It would have to be somewhere without people-harder to find on such a nice day- because as much as he wanted, needed, to blow shit up, he didn’t want to injure anyone…
Now you grow conscious… too little too late....the treacherous part of his mind hisses. The thought feeds his anger like gasoline on an open flame.
(Follow up part here)
#bnha#bnha fanfic#katsuki bakugō#heavy angst#coarse language#swearing#major character death#bakugo suffers#bakugo his sad and angry#that's it that's the fic#fanfiction#my hero academia#something sad au
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
a lil teaser for the football fic with no name yet!
It’s pissing down. The umbrella he’s holding earns its forty quid by staying up right as the wind whacks against his back and pushes him further towards the pitch.
Robert looks up and hears a few Brighton fans laughing and joking, cheering about seagulls or something as they make their way out. Robert knows no Hotten fans are around, they’d be fools if they wanted to stay to hear the other team banging on about absolutely thrashing them on their own ground.
The result just so happens to be the icing on the already shit cake he’s got to eat for the next few months.
And he can’t quite believe it.
Robert moves his foot onto the pitch and watches as his shoe seeps into the sodden grass, sinks down into the mud further and further. That does it, it’s the cherry on top as he yanks out his phone and scowls down at Lawrence’s number, it takes all of two seconds for him to answer the call.
“Oh Robert, you’ve arrived then?”
“What sort of shit is this you’re playing at?”
And maybe, maybe it’s no way to speak to him but he does because right now he couldn’t give an absolute shit.
“What does that mean?”
“Hotten?” Robert spins around and stares up at the empty stands. “Hotten?” He shudders. “When you said a team’s interested in signing you for the season, that it’d be a good opportunity to get me fit again, I thought you meant West Ham or Wolves, not –”
“Hotten are a good team.”
Robert knows what that means, it’s means they’ve got heart and passion and Match Of The Day say they play brave football sometimes. It doesn’t mean they’re successful.
“Aren’t they bottom of the table?”
Lawrence says absolutely nothing for a second and then he clears his throat. “Not for much longer.”
Robert doesn’t know what to do, or what to say, because it’s all sounding like he’s their miracle worker and that definitely does something for his self-esteem, something that he needs after being on the sidelines for over a year.
For a second, the smallest second, he feels like a little boy wanting someone to say he’s special. He remembers being a lanky sixteen-year-old signing the contracts and having Lawrence tell him that he has a lot of potential to make it into the first team. He absolutely hates himself for it.
“What so … you think I can actually make a difference?”
Go on. Robert wants to say. Compliment me right now.
Lawrence is predictable, he says he should make a difference and Robert’s got all that weight pressed on his shoulders again.
“I didn’t agree to this.” Robert bites, slips back into himself. “I agreed to stretch my legs, have an opportunity outside of Leeds but this … it’s …”
It’s degrading. It’s taking a league champion and plunging him into a team that are lucky to still be amongst all the others. It’s telling everyone Robert’s career is over, that he’s not bounced back from his injury and he’ll never be who he was before it happened.
And it’s not like Robert doesn’t know that himself. It’s what keeps him up at night.
“Happening whether you like it or not.” Lawrence says. “I don’t think you know how lucky you are.”
“Lucky?” Robert knows he should be grateful about a lot of things going on in his life but how can he be in his career. “I was the best of the best and then I get kicked in the knee so hard I needed surgery. And now, now I’m not needed anymore, and now I’m standing on a pitch that looks like it’s quick sand and …”
Robert looks up and sees someone staring at him.
“If you would like to come with me.”
Robert wouldn’t actually. He hangs up by the phone and then stares down at the time. It’s nearly nine, the team’s probably gone by now and for some reason that makes his shoulders relax a little.
Robert walks with the woman in silence, she prattles on about the stadium, its history and the trophy cabinet. He passes it and doesn’t look back; it might as well be empty.
“We’re really happy that you’ve decided to come and see us.” He finds out that the woman, Vanessa, is part of the medical team and she makes him feel a little important until he’s walking towards an office and being told to wait outside for a second.
Robert rolls his eyes, leans back against the wall and then spots Clive, his manager walking towards him. He shoots off the wall and shakes his head.
“Is this where you say there’s been a mistake or something?” Robert says. “As in you’ve told Lawrence where to go?”
Clive shakes his umbrella against the floor and runs a hand through his hair. “No.” He says. “Because it’s this or sitting up in the stands watching younger kids pass your club records. So suck it up.”
Robert bites his gum hard. “I could fire you; you know that?”
Clive scoffs, “Yeah? Try finding someone dumb enough to replace me.”
Robert scowls and then the door opens to reveal a very pink Paddy Kirk standing there looking like he’s going to be sick.
“Hello.” Paddy waves a hand out and Robert does his best not to roll his eyes. He knows about Paddy; he went viral last season for asking an interviewer to repeat a question three times because he couldn’t understand it. He’s hapless and yet somehow he stays around. “Um, come this way.”
Paddy tries to show him to the only empty seat in the room like he has to, and Robert sits down awkwardly. He’s staring at Pollard and the back of someone’s head until he turns and sees that it’s Aaron Dingle. He looks about as pissed as Robert feels and it relaxes Robert for a second in this really weird way until he realises that Aaron should be kissing his feet. He’s saving his club.
“Hi Robert, glad you could join us.” Pollard says, and then he brings his hands together and smiles. “We’re all glad you’re here.”
Robert could do without the pleasantries so he just nods.
“I hope I’m not treading on anyone’s toes.” Robert says after a few seconds of just staring at Dingle looking like he’s about to throw Pollard through the window.
“Oh no, nothing like that.” Pollard says. Only Aaron just has to scoff, pull his head into his hands and sighs. He’s acting like a kid who’s been told he can’t play outside even when his older brother can.
“So there is a problem?” Robert says, he stares right at Dingle as he speaks.
Aaron scowls. “We’re rival teams you know.” It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It tells Robert all he needs to know.
Robert laughs.
“What?” Aaron wants to deck him already it seems.
“We’re hardly in the same league. Pun intended.” Robert has this smile on his face. Aaron looks like he wants to punch him.
Aaron only sits up straighter. He looks like he’s going to explode. “You ain’t being a hero here, let’s get that straight now.”
It’s Robert’s turn to scowl. “Did I dream that result you just got?”
“More than you’ve got recently.” Aaron blurts out and Robert can’t help but find his anger a little amusing.
Robert’s eyes flicker. “Is that right?”
Aaron nods his head so vigorously and then looks back at Pollard. “Surely if we need someone, we should get someone who’s actually fit enough to make a difference.”
“Aaron.” Paddy whispers.
Robert smiles. “No. Let him carry on, let him be the captain that watches his team lose 6-1 every week. It’s not my fault you couldn’t step up to lead this lot.”
“What did you just ...” Aaron stands up like he’s going to do something, his eyes are wide and blue, and he probably thinks his towering over Robert when in reality he isn’t. He looks like an idiot.
“Aaron.” Paddy stands too, shakes his head at Aaron and Clive starts speaking about how he won’t let Robert be undermined like this, by the likes of this football club.
Robert sits back, waits for Aaron to sit down again and then he looks at Pollard.
“I deserve some respect.”
“Of course you do. All my players do.” Pollard says, like a politician trying to appease the crowds.
Robert sits forward and then looks at the way Aaron is bouncing his leg again like some sort of caged animal or something. He knows about Aaron, the underdog, the hero of the hour, the down to earth lad from the small village with a big dream.
Robert knows that he’s good at what he does. It doesn’t mean anything now.
“Of course.” Clive says. “But if Aaron doesn’t show respect, than none of his players will.”
Aaron breathes in deeply, everyone hears it. Robert can’t help but think he’s the most dramatic person he’s ever met.
“Fine.” Aaron mutters. “I just ain’t keen on us becoming Sugden FC.”
“Could make a change from Dingle FC.” Robert shrugs his shoulders, it’s not really helpful but he can’t help himself.
Aaron scowls at him, if looks can kill and all that.
“You work around us, not us around you.” Aaron says, like he’s the one in charge of the demands made around here.
“We’ll make this work.” Paddy keeps nodding his head like if he says it over and over again it’ll actually happen.
“Why don’t I have someone give you a tour of the place whilst me and Clive talk business?” Pollard says.
Paddy shoots up to do it, stupid smile on his face and says he’ll lead the way. “Aaron can come and …”
Aaron’s already by the door. “I’m shattered, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, and Robert tells himself it’s the wind that slams the door and not Aaron and his stupid self.
#the football au fic#yet to have a name but i'm working on it lol#robron#robron fics#just wanted to share some of the beginning bits
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
LOVER, LEAVER // JIMIN // 05
↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initially reader/Jungkook)
↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands.
↪ WORD COUNT: 8.3k
↪ WARNINGS: mentions of addiction/drugs, alcohol abuse, there’s FLUFF people can you believe it, jimin is a slight rich bitch in this lol, a baby is born, slight smut
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL
Jimin very kindly and patiently lets you vent your concerns about Jungkook to him. You know you're rambling, you know it's not Jimin's duty to listen to fret over your ex-boyfriend but he does anyway, and without complaint. Jimin merely holds you tightly, nodding and offering encouraging agreement when needed. He cares about Jungkook too and you know your worries are shared.
Your eyes spill with tears and he wipes them away without question. How are you so lucky to have someone as understanding as him? Jimin doesn't protest or tell you to stop; instead he tells you he appreciates how compassionate you are. When you're finished with your tirade you thank him over and over again until he shushes you with a kiss.
The sofa you're curled up on with him creaks as he stands, reluctantly pulling away from you. He returns after a few moments with some tea for you both and it's so kind it makes your heart ache. You accept it from him with a mumbled thank you.
Taehyung, a former stranger turned roommate of three days, enters your apartment as you set your cup back down. Jimin peers over his shoulder as Taehyung removes his outdoor clothing and shoes. He stiffens beside you. The arrangement is still new and you can sense there is something going on inside Jimin's head. Taehyung waves and shouts hello to you both upon seeing on the sofa before disappearing inside the kitchen.
Taehyung is a video editor for a local news station and works absurd hours, you've noticed. In the short time you've lived together your paths have only crossed a handful of times.
You return his greeting with feigned cheerfulness and look back to Jimin, his lips press together in a stern line. "What?" You ask, sensing his hesitancy. To your confusion, he looks uncomfortable.
"Nothing." He shakes his head dismissively and looks away. His own tea is still untouched.
"Wanna stay over tonight?" You ask after another sip of tea. Jimin nods, eyes anywhere but you.
Jimin heads straight for your bedroom after that, obviously expecting you to follow. It's late and he wants to retire to bed you assume. However you head in to the kitchen to catch up with your new house mate. Taehyung is nice, thoughtful and so far, a good person to share a living space with. Although the only other boy you've ever lived with was Jungkook so you don't have much room for comparison.
"How was work?" You ask casually, leaning against the doorframe. Taehyung eats like a horse and he's already biting into a cereal bar whilst stacking a mountain of ingredients atop the counter.
"Good!" He mumbles, catching some of the food that spills out of his mouth as he tries to smile. He swallows. "How are you?"
"Fine. Jimin's here by the way. Do you mind if he stays overnight?" You ask. Jimin has never stayed over while Taehyung has been home and you don't want to be disrespectful.
"He's your boyfriend of course not." Taehyung shrugs, kicking the fridge shut with his foot. You eye his potential meal and wonder how he remains so slim. He must work out a ton. "I've got noise cancelling headphones." He flashes you a boxy grin over his shoulder as he begins to prep his food.
"He's not my - He's not..." You stammer quietly, blushing at the comment. Jimin and you have made nothing official. If Taehyung senses your awkwardness he says nothing. "We're not animals Taehyung, we'll be quiet. I just wanted to give you a heads up."
"Appreciate it, roomie. You guys heading to bed? Can I watch the big TV?" He asks.
"It's all yours roomie." You laugh a little. "Goodnight."
Taehyung bids you goodnight and you head to your own bedroom, where Jimin is waiting. When you enter inside he's standing with his back to you, shirtless as he undoes his belt. The sound of the door opening he doesn't even turn to face you, merely continues getting ready for bed.
"Just wanted to let Tae know you're spending the night." You murmur as you pace over, ghosting a gentle hand against his skin.
"Oh, ok." He responds quietly.
"I'm working tomorrow, so we're going to have to get up early." You sigh.
"That's fine."
"Can I wear this to bed?" You ask hopefully, picking up Jimin's discarded tee. It smells like his cologne, it's comforting. He nods. You notice he's still acting rather stiff and unusual but you're not sure why. "Thanks Jiminie."
He slips under the duvet first, while you crawl in behind him, wearing nothing but his shirt and a thong. He lies on his back, one arm behind his head. You reach across him to flick the bedside lamp off. Even in the moonlight you can see a worried expression twisting his beautiful features.
"There's something on your mind." You state, just above a whisper. You rest your head against his warm chest and loosely throw and arm across his waist. Normally he'd nuzzle into you but his position remains unchanged.
"It's nothing." You're not sure if he even convinces himself, voice thick and quiet, something heavy underlying his words.
"You can talk to me, about anything." You assure. There's a palpable tension weighing in the room as Jimin hesitates. You can feel the tension in his body, muscles constricting slightly underneath you. He inhales as if he's about to speak but lets out a long breath instead. "Is it Jungkook? Have I been going on too much about him?"
"No." Jimin is quick to firmly interject. "No." He repeats, softer. "It's Taehyung."
Surely you hear him incorrectly. "Taehyung?" You repeat incredulously, propping yourself up to see his face, hoping this is some kind of joke. It's so absurd you almost want to laugh.
He looks at you with a frown. "Yes. It's stupid. It's nothing. Nevermind."
You soften at his words. "Your feelings are not nothing to me, Jimin."
He runs a distressed hand through his long locks. "I'm being jealous and irrational. I hate it."
"Of Taehyung? Why does Tae of all people make you jealous? I just sat and cried about my ex boyfriend to you!" You tease, hoping to at least coax a little smile from him. It doesn't work.
"Well, look how me and you got started..." He trails off, almost if he knows how awful that thought is to voice aloud.
"Jimin," You're wounded, a visceral sting within your ribcage. "Don't throw that in my face. That's not fair."
“I’m sorry! That came out weird.” He groans, frustrated at the sight of your hurt expression.
“You don’t trust me.” You point out.
He shakes his head. “I do. I told you I’m being irrational.”
“Then what’s the big deal with Taehyung?! Tell me and I can make you feel better. There is literally zero reason to feel jealousy towards my roommate.”
He seems reluctant to explain, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes locked with yours. “I know how this story ends.” He sighs. You raise a brow at him. “He’s a nice guy, you’re a nice girl. You’ll get really close, you’ll hang out all the time since you live together, then one day you and I will have a big argument, and who will be around to pick up the pieces? Taehyung.”
“- Jimin,”
“ - Who are you going to bitch about me to when you’re mad? Taehyung. He’s single right? What will stop him from making a move on you? And if you’re mad at me you might let him. Look what happened with -” He cuts himself short but you both know the word ‘Jungkook’ was about to slip out.
He looks away guiltily.
You nod quietly absorbing the information. It’s understandable, albeit borderline crazy, that Jimin feels this way. He’s not perfect, he has insecurities like everyone else but there’s two things you have gathered from this conversation. One; Jimin is a lot more sensitive than you first thought and two; he isn’t as easy going about Jungkook as he appears.
“I understand why you would think that.” You want to be assuring but your voice sounds so small. You know there is no real defence for your infidelity. Jimin looks worried, anticipating what you’ll say next. “I do think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, I’ll be honest.”
“I know. I’m just scared.” He admits.
That takes you by surprise. “Scared of what?”
“Of losing you. Again.”
“Again?”
“This is so embarrassing,” He laughs a little but it’s humourless. “All I do is make myself look more pathetic huh? It’s no secret I’ve liked you since the day we met.”
“That doesn’t make you pathetic, jiminie.” You squeeze his hand affectionately. “It’s sweet.”
“But I’d lost you to Kook, and then when I finally had you, even though it wasn’t how I imagined, you told me you didn’t want me.”
“That’s not strictly true.” You chastise.
“You know what I mean.” He reaches out to cup your face, a delicate thumb rests on the apples of your cheek. “Things are going well now. I don’t want a repeat of history.”
“I would never do anything behind your back. You’re not Jungkook, and I’m not that person anymore.” Your words are firm, because they’re true and you mean them wholeheartedly.
“If you’re not happy. Ever, about anything, tell me.” Jimin murmurs as he pulls you close for a kiss.
“I promise I will. It’s different this time,” You whisper against his lips.
***
From: Kim Namjoon
Hoseok found Jungkook. He’s fine, unhurt, just drunk and kind of emotional.
He’s holing up @ Hoseok’s place until the trial date.
No news is definitely not good news when it comes to Jungkook, so even though this information is hard to hear you’re glad he is at least safe. Hoseok has always been the most responsible one out of Jungkook’s circle of friends. You know he’s likely there against his will but maybe thats for the best.
From: Y/N
Thank you for letting me know.
Namjoon be really careful, he’s probably going to be having withdrawal. He’s been shooting up. I don’t know what but keep his phone away from him and make sure Hoseok has his doctor’s number.
From: Kim Namjoon
I know. I noticed the track marks too. Ill tell hoeseok and keep you updated.
Your head is pounding as you flop back against the pillow, tossing your phone somewhere on the bed. Jimin is sleeping soundly beside you and you wish to join him again but you know your alarm is going to ring in thirty minutes anyway. You doubt you’d get much rest in that time.
The early hours of the morning are always where you do your best overthinking. You wonder if Jungkook would have ended up on this path if it wasn’t for you. It’s likely. Maybe you just accelerated it. Maybe his lifestyle is the real culprit here. Maybe it was his fate all along.
As you stare blankly into the blue early morning hue of the room all you can hope is that this will be a turning point for everyone, especially Jungkook.
***
It’s on what you anticipate to be a regular boring Thursday when you receive two shocking pieces of news, almost within a few minutes of one another.
Firstly, the most recent job interview you had attended (for a role that seemed too good to be true, but Jimin convinced you to go anyway and on shaky, unprepared legs you went.) had left a very eager voicemail for you while you’d been waiting tables. Your hands shook as you played and replayed the message. You almost thought you were imagining the praise they were giving you.
They wanted you. Not for the role you initially applied for but as an assistant to one of their mid level designers. It was probably better for you anyway and you returned the call to accept the offer immediately.
The second call comes from Namjoon of all people and it’s with your heart thundering in your chest you answer, fearing the worst.
His voice is equal parts breathless and terrified, as if he’s walking very quickly somewhere. After getting him to slow down eventually you’re able to understand the message he’s trying to convey. Hyerin is in labour. It’s still a week and a half before her due date so the news definitely comes as a surprise.
You let out a long sigh of relief. It’s happy news.
He informs you that it’s still early stages, they’re at the hospital however so you know the baby is going to be here soon. It feels surreal and you’re not even the person who is going to be a parent in a few hours. Namjoon promises to call you as soon as he can (Hyerin’s request) and you shoo him off the phone so you can call Jimin.
“It’s been a wild day and it’s not even lunchtime yet.” Jimin laughs once you relay the news. “I’m so happy for you butterfly. You’ve worked so hard.”
You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face at his sincerity. “Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” And that’s the truth.
***
Jimin arranges a celebratory dinner in your honour later that evening. He implores you to wear something nice and you can hear the glint of mischief in his voice. “Promise me nothing too upmarket or expensive Jimin.” You warn but he just laughs and assures you be ready for him to pick you up later.
You slip on a nice dress that’s slit dangerously high up on your thigh and some heels, a lot more chic than you normally would wear for a date with Jimin. His initial reaction when you swing open the front door makes you feel beautiful.
He looks dapper himself, dressed in an extremely well tailored suit, the top few buttons exposing the jewellery around his neck. He looks every bit the successful artist he is.
Several times in the car you ask him where he’s taking you but Jimin remains coy and cryptic, shushing you with a knowing smile. You’re paying attention to the route he’s taking but you’re unfamiliar with the area you’re in. Eventually the car comes to a stop in front of a high end japanese restaurant.
“Huh.” You hum, eyes raking the building as he opens the car door for you. “I love Japanese food.”
“I know, I remembered.” Jimin grins tapping the side of his temple while extending an arm for you. You grip on to the crook of his elbow. “This place is the next best thing to actually going to Japan.”
After being seated on the upper level of the restaurant, a private table in the corner with an incredible view of the city you can’t help but feel out of your depth. “Can you tell I don’t normally come to places like this?” You joke.
“Of course not.” He smiles.
“I would have been happy wherever we went, y’know. Even if it was Subway”
“I know,” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I recently sold one of my paintings at auction and made more money than I ever have in my career. Let me treat my favorite lady Next time you can treat me to a meatball sub.”
“Deal.”
“Any word from Namjoon or Hyerin?” He asks, taking a sip of the crimson liquid in his glass.
“No,” You sigh. “I’m excited for them! They don’t even know what sex the baby is.”
“I bet it’s a girl.” Jimin smiles.
“No, it’s a boy. I can feel it. You can tell by the shape of the bump.”
Jimin quirks a questioning brow at you. “Sorry, Doctor Y/N. I forgot about your expertise for a moment.” He says sarcastically.
“Apology accepted.” You play along.
“Let’s make a bet. If it’s a girl, I win. If it’s a boy, you win.”
“What’s at stake?” You question.
“If I win…” He pauses for a moment in thought. “You have to model for me.”
“For a painting?”
“Or a drawing.” He shrugs.
“And if I’m right?” You pry.
“You can say I told you so as much as you want.” He replies and you roll your eyes. It’s hardly a fair bet.
“No, if i'm correct you have to watch whatever movie I want for the next month.”
“Fine. Cruel but fair.”
“Deal!”
As expected the meal is wonderful, and you feel spoiled beyond belief, especially when Jimin toasts to you with a glass of probably the most expensive wine you’ve ever had. After dinner, instead of returning to the car he links your fingers together and pulls you in the opposite direction, citing he needs to walk off the glass of wine he had before he drives anywhere.
Jimin guides you to a nearby river that you can’t remember the name of. At night it’s lit up beautifully, the twinkling lights of the cityscape behind it only adding to the view. The weather is almost perfect and you feel utterly content.
He cages your body with his as he stands behind you, arms looping around your waist, hugging your body tightly to his. “I had such a nice time with you, butterfly.” He murmurs against your neck, before placing a few open mouthed kisses against your skin. A dreamy sigh escapes your parted lips. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
“Thank you for tonight Jimin. It was perfect.” You twist in his arms until you’re chest to chest. His eyes sparkle, reflecting the scenery behind you. His eyes lock with yours as if you’re the only thing in the universe.
Soft lips brush against yours as you cling tightly to him. Jimin’s hands slide underneath your jacket touching the bare skin of your back. He moans quietly into the kiss. “Fuck, I want to take you home.”
“Want you to take me home.” You smirk, raking your hands down his chest. He bites his lip.
“I have a gift for you first though.”
“Jimin,” You whine. “You’ve done more than enough for me.”
“Never.” He teases, stealing a few more kisses from you.
By the time you’re back at the car, Jimin is sober enough to drive and grinning like a cheshire cat. You eye him with a quirked brow. He unlocks the car with a chirp before striding to the trunk and popping it open. “Why do you look like you’re up to something?”
“Me?” He feigns innocence, clutching dramatically at his chest as if you’ve hurt him deeply. “Get in the car.” He instructs, sensing your hesitation.
You hold his playful stare for a moment before giving in and climbing into the passenger side.
The car obstructs most of the view, so you can’t see what he’s up to, although it doesn’t stop you from trying. Only a moment later he’s sliding into the driver’s side, a large pastel pink, flat rectangle box in one hand. You don’t miss the black lace bow holding the gift together. You know exactly what it’s contents are.
“Jimin…”
“For you.” He gives you a sly smile as he hands over the box.
Carefully you unwrap the packaging, revealing some of the most beautiful lingerie you’ve ever seen. “Oh my god.” You gasp. “This is…wow. Oh my god! It’s Agent Provocateur for crying out loud! It’s stunning. You must be broke after tonight.”
He laughs while you ramble on about how stunning the lacy garment is. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You lean across the console pecking Jimin enthusiastically several times on the cheek.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He says gently. “I love seeing you happy.”
“I’m assuming the intention is for me to wear this...for you?” You suggest with a smirk.
“I said no such thing.”
“So, essentially. This is a gift for Jimin. I haven’t forgotten about your little lingerie kink.”
His blush is noticeable even in the dim streetlight. “Lingerie on you.” He corrects. “You don’t have to wear it for me. I just know you like that sort of thing.”
“How did you even know what size I am?” You query.
“Um,” Jimin, scratches the back of his neck and laughs at himself. “I may have checked the tags on your underwear.”
“Ah. sneaky.” You tease, kissing him once more. “Take me to your place before I beg you to fuck me right here, right now.”
Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise, wondering whether you're being serious or not, no doubt. But he listens anyway and does as you ask, turning the key in the ignition before peeling out of the parking space.
***
Several hours later, as you’re both about to turn in for the night, you receive the text you have eagerly been anticipating the entire day. Hyerin has given birth to a healthy, baby girl.
You nudge Jimin who is on the verge of sleep beside you, spent from the evening, heavy eyelids blinking slowly as he struggles to stay awake. “Hmm?” He mumbles
“It’s a baby girl. Look.”
It takes a minute to register in his mind exactly what you’re talking about before his eyes shoot open, mouth formed in a perfect ‘o’. You thrust your phone screen towards him, a picture of the newborn on display. “Cute.” He yawns.
“Isn’t she?” You hum in agreement, smiling down at the image. “She looks like Hyerin.”
“She’s only a few hours old, she doesn’t look like anyone yet.” Jimin laughs.
“Look at her eyes and tell me that’s not Hyerin!” You defend.
“Are we just going to pretend I didn’t win the bet?” He reminds you, pulling you close to him as soon as you put your phone away. “You owe me, butterfly.”
You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, feeling safe and secure. You can’t help but smile into his skin. “Just let me know when and where you want me.”
“How about this weekend?” He suggests, stroking your hair. “At my studio?”
“Sounds perfect.”
***
It’s only a few days later you find yourself, along with Jimin, at Namjoon and Hyerin’s apartment. Excitement bubbles in your chest at the prospect of meeting their new arrival. You’ve never really been crazy about children, however something about having witnessed the growth of this infant since day one has created a special connection with her.
“Here she is,” Hyerin gives you an exhausted smile, handing the bundle of yellow blankets over to you. The tiny face of a newborn peeking out from underneath, dark hair poking out at the top of the blankets. She seems impossibly tiny. Gently you cradle her, carefully because she looks so fragile and new you can’t quite believe it.
“Nice to meet you beautiful girl.” You coo, unable to stop a wide smile from forming on your face. Jimin sits next to you, an arm slung over the back of the couch, leaning forward so he can see her too. “It’s Auntie y/n.”
She blinks up at you owlishly and it’s amazing to you how intently she’s focusing on your face. You don’t even know if someone her age can register a face yet but it still feels magical.
“I think she recognises your voice.” Hyerin points out, smiling at the pair of you. “She’s heard it enough over the past few months.”
“Is that even possible?” You blink in surprise.
“According to some of the stuff I’ve read, yeah.” Hyerin nods.
“Does she have a name yet?” Jimin asks, eyes never leaving the baby.
“We’re still not sure,” Namjoon answers. “We were thinking Yeona, maybe.”
“It means beautiful baby. Or heart of gold.” Hyerin laughs. “It fits, no?”
“Definitely.” You breathe. “Hello Yeona.” You sing-song to see if she reacts, but she merely yawns earning a laugh from the room. “Message received, pretty girl.”
Her eyes start to flutter shut and you place the pacifier Hyerin hands to you into her small mouth. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep in your arms while you rock her gently.
“You’re stuck with her now, y/n.” Namjoon laughs. “It’s not good to wake a sleeping baby, you know. Sit tight so Hyerin and I can go nap for four hours.”
“Joonie!” Hyerin scolds with a laugh. He was only joking of course.
“No offense, but both of you look like you could use it.” Jimin quips.
“You’re telling me,” Namjoon groans. “She sleeps a lot at the moment, but honestly, i’m just in a constant state of worry for her wellbeing. 24/7. I haven’t relaxed even for a second in days”
“Me too.” Hyerin agrees. “Top that off with my recovery from the birth and I feel like a zombie.”
“It’ll be worth it.” You say sincerely. Namjoon and Hyerin share a look, the kind of secret exchange two people in love would have. It brings you so much happiness to see them thriving together. Silence falls between the four of you but it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Everyone is at ease.
A vibrating sound buzzes, followed by a shrill ring, interrupting the peace. Your phone is ringing from your handbag that sits at your feet. “Ah, I can’t get that. Jimin can you see who it is? It might be work, I don’t want to miss another call from them.”
Jimin reaches for your cellphone and his face falls at the caller id. He says nothing, merely showing you the screen that reads ‘Jeon Jungkook incoming call’. He hasn’t contacted you directly once since the breakup. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach. This can’t be good.
“I’ll call them back later.” You tell Jimin with a shake of your head. You don’t want to be the person that ruins this evening. Tactfully picking up on your tone, he silences the call before slipping his phone back into your bag.
***
Hyerin is putting the baby down for the night whilst Namjoon, you and Jimin have some coffee. Finally having your arms back to yourself you check your phone, only to feel horrified at the sheer amount of notifications. All from Jungkook.
“I need to go make a call,” You announce standing up. Jimin looks at you, worry flashing in his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
You don’t wait for a response, choosing to instead quickly slip out the front door and into the hallway of their complex, shutting it quietly behind you. You press Jungkook’s name on your call list and wait.
It rings out, before going to voicemail. You try again.
And again.
And again.
And again until he answers on the seventh call. “Baaabyy.” He’s drunk and barely coherent. “I’m outside your apartment. Let me in.”
Fuck.
“Jungkook, I’m not home right now.” You say firmly, praying that Taehyung isn’t home either. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, it’s not what he signed up for when he agreed to be your roommate.
“Where are you? Are you at Jimin’s place?” He spits.
“No I’m with Namjoon and Hyerin.” You sigh. “I’m on my way home though. Where is Hoseok?”
“Hoseok tried to lock me up like a fucking prisoner. I don’t give a fuck where he is.”
Exasperated, you pinch the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath. It’s frustrating to remain calm with someone who is so clearly self sabotaging. “Kook, I’m gonna come get you okay. Will you wait for me?”
“Of course baby. I’ll be - “ He hiccups. “Right here.”
“Don’t go anywhere.” You warn. “I won’t be long.”
You hurry back inside to find Jimin and Namjoon laughing about something, but as soon as their eyes land on you it dies away. “Is everything okay?” Jimin is quick to ask.
“We have to go.” You reply bluntly, cutting straight to the chase. “Jungkook is wasted, hanging outside my apartment, begging to be let in.”
“Christ.” Namjoon groans. “Where was Hoseok? He was keeping an eye on him. Apparently he was completely sober the last few days!”
“I don’t know but I can’t leave Jungkook wandering around shit-faced like that.” You share his frustration. “I’m sorry Namjoon. Tell Hyerin I’m sorry and I’ll call her later.”
Namjoon can only nod as you and Jimin scramble your things together and rush out the door.
***
Taehyung texts you on the drive over. You breathe a sigh of small relief when you realise he’s at work and won’t be home until the small hours of the morning. Still, you don’t intend to risk your living situation so Jimin agrees that the best course of action is to take Jungkook to his place. Jimin lives alone, it’s the easiest option.
“Should I come with you? Or do you want me to wait here?” Jimin asks as he parks the car.
“Stay here for now. I think he might get angry if he sees you.” You head hurts already at the prospect of dealing with that drama. Jimin gives you a solemn look before giving you the okay.
Walking up the stairs and down the hallway to your apartment, your stomach twists with dread, anticipating the condition you might find Jungkook in. You take a deep breath as you round the final corner. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as you had expected.
Jungkook, adorned in his trademark all black outfit, sits on the floor. His back is pressed flush against the wall opposite your front door. A hood covers most of his face and his arms are crossed on his chest, legs sprawled out in front of him. He almost looks like he’s sleeping.
“Jungkook?” You ask gently, crouching down beside him. He stirs slightly. You push the hood off his face and brush some of his long hair away from his eyes. “Kookie.” You repeat.
His eyes slowly flutter open and it takes a few seconds for him to focus on you. “Baby.” He grins lopsidedly, fumbling to hold you. It’s an awkward embrace given that you're not in the right position for a hug right now.
“Do you want to stand up for me?” You’re unsure how to approach telling him he’s going to Jimin’s, so for right now trepidation and caution is key. Jungkook nods. He slings an arm around your shoulder, while you slide one around his waist, letting him lean on your for support.
“Are we going inside now?” He mumbles. “...m’tired.”
“We can’t, My roommate is home.” You lie.
“Roommate?” Jungkook frowns. “Jimin?”
“Taehyung.” You correct.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Come on, my car is downstairs, we’re going somewhere else.” You avoid his question, and he seems momentarily satisfied with your answer. “Let’s walk to the elevator.”
He doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. “Are you mad at me baby?” He asks, slumping against you in the elevator.
“No. I’m not.” It’s the truth, you’re not angry. Above anything and everything you’re concerned for him.
Jimin spots you walking out the building and immediately springs up and out of the driver's seat to help you. He appears at the side of the car, opening the door to the backseat. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” Jungkook snarls, pointing obnoxiously at Jimin.
“Kookie, kookie, please - “ You beg.
“NO! You’ll take me to Hoseok’s or rehab. No.” He yells.
“I promise we won’t, Jungkook.” Jimin assures him quietly. “You can just crash at my apartment. We won’t tell Hoseok if you don’t want us to.”
Jungkook looks down cautiously at you, as if he can gauge whether Jimin is serious or not by your expression. He sways a little as he stands. “Baby girl,” he sighs dramatically. “I don’t want to go.”
“Please,” You say quietly. “I don’t want to leave you by yourself right now.”
“You want me?” He asks, his intoxicated brain clearly misinterpreting your words. That’s not exactly what you meant but if it will get him in the car and on the way to safety you’ll agree to almost anything.
“Of course. Come get in.”
He hesitates for a minute, but lets you bundle him in the car anyway. As you go to close the door, he grabs your wrist. “Noooo,” He whines. “Sit in the back with me.”
“Jungk - “
“Sit with me or I’m not going.”
You exchange a glance with Jimin who looks unhappy but nods, encouraging you to just continue playing along. When you slip into your side, Jungkook hastily and roughly pulls you into the middle of the backseat, then wraps his arms around you.
“Jungkook,” You warn, attempting to push his arms away.
“You said you’d sit with me.” He pouts, burying his face into your neck. You sigh, accepting defeat, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to Jimin when your eyes meet in the rear view mirror. He shakes his head ‘don’t worry’ he mouths back.
Jungkook soon falls asleep on your shoulder. His grip on you slackens a little. Using this as an opportunity you slowly roll one sleeve up his arm. In the light of the passing street lamps it’s hard to tell but there doesn’t appear to be any track marks. From his behaviour tonight he didn’t seem high; only inebriated. A threadbare silver lining, you suppose.
By the time all three of you have made it inside of Jimin’s apartment, Jungkook is just about completely blacked out. Together you and Jimin place him on the sofa. Jimin has a luxury corner couch so it’s basically like a small bed anyway. You help him out of his shoes while Jimin fetches some water and a bucket, knowing Jungkook’s tendendancy for vomiting after alcohol.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sounds emotional, but you know it’s the liquor talking. You perch on the side of the couch beside him.
“It’s alright.” You say kindly. “Why did you drink so much tonight?”
“I’m not allowed to do drugs, so may as well get drunk.” He grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.
You shake your head at his ridiculous logic. It’s quiet as you wait for Jimin to return, and by the time he has Jungkook is once again unconscious. As if by muscle memory from having done it so many times before, you make sure he’s laying on his side, so he doesn’t die if he vomits in his sleep.
Jimin sets down the bucket and water next to Jungkook. “Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse.
It’s silent as you head to Jimin’s bedroom together. Emotionally you feel drained. How long does this pattern with Jungkook have to repeat before something changes? Inevitably it will take its toll. Not just on Jungkook himself, not just your relationship, but every one in your social group. It hurts to see Jungkook so out of control. He always used to be so outgoing. So free. So happy.
Robotically you go through the motions of your bedtime routine, as does Jimin. Without asking, you grab his shirt to wear to bed. You finish changing before him and watch as he rakes through a drawer, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants.
You’re so lucky to have him. After everything you’ve put him through, he’s been nothing but supportive. It’s so different to how you felt about Jungkook. That all consuming passion you and Jungkook had burns bright but fades quickly. How you feel about Jimin has been a slow, steady burn. It feels authentic. Stable. Real.
“Jimin.” You begin quietly.
“Hm?” He climbs into bed next to you. “Are you okay?”
“I just wanted you to know, you’re an amazing person for doing this tonight. I don’t know many people who would go to the lengths you have for Jungkook, or for me.” You breathe, suddenly feeling very nervous. He squeezes you a little tighter. “I love you Jimin.”
“Uh - “ He pulls away, looking flustered and immediately your stomach drops. Maybe he has changed his mind.
“Oh god! I’m sorry, I stupidly just assumed you’d still be in the same place as before, and I know i’ve kept you waiting for so long. Fuck, Jimin, I’m sorry, really - “
He silences your overthinking with a press of his lips against yours. “I love you too.”
Jimin is smiling now, his big eyes almost closed with how hard he’s grinning.
“It’s a weird time to say it huh?” You laugh, kissing him again. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you as much as I do at this moment.” You hide your face against his chest, feeling shy from your admission. His chest vibrates as he chuckles.
“I love you, I love you so much butterfly.”
“I love you. We took a long route to get here, but I’m glad we did.”
“Does this mean we’re together now? Officially? I overheard you panic when Taehyung referred to me as your boyfriend.” Jimin teases. You were not aware he heard that.
“Yes. I’m all yours.” You smile into his shirt.
He kisses the top of your head. You fall asleep in his embrace not long afterwards.
***
The digital bedside clock reads 5:03am when you jolt awake. Unsure of what startled you, you listen carefully for a noise but all that can be heard is your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears with Jimin’s soft breathing in the background.
You roll over as best you can because he’s still clinging to you (although your positions have changed) even in slumber. You press a kiss to his cheek, watching him fondly for a few moments. His perfect mouth is parted slightly and his hair is adorably messy.
Suddenly you recall Jungkook passed out in the living room. Not that you forgot about him per say, you were just distracted by Jimin for a moment. Quietly you tip toe out of the bedroom and down the hall.
Jungkook is still in almost exactly the same position as he was when you left him several hours ago. As silently as you can you sit down next to him, just to make sure he’s okay. Evidently he’s not as deep asleep as you’d presumed because his eyes flutter open at the weight of your body sinking down on to the couch.
“y/n.” He croaks at the sight of you. “Where am I? Is this your place?” He coughs a few times, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
You forgot he had never been to Jimin’s new apartment. Jimin had moved after everything went down. No wonder the surroundings were unfamiliar. He probably didn’t remember much from the previous night either.
“This is Jimin’s apartment.” For some reason you feel guilty admitting that. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you anything?”
“What?” He sits up on his elbows, looking around the room. “Did he move?” You nod. “Oh…”
“Do you remember much from last night?” You ask nervously.
“Ahhh, kind of,” He looks embarrassed, eyes darting away. “I remember wanting to see you. Going to your house. Vaguely remember hugging you in the car. That’s about it.”
“Where was Hoseok? Last I heard you were staying with him. Namjoon said you were sober.”
“Hobi’s girlfriend broke her ankle so he took her to hospital. I snuck out, even though I promised Hobi I wouldn’t.” Jungkook has the decency to look ashamed. “I am sober….I was at least. I haven’t done drugs in a long time. I guess I just got cabin fever.”
“That’s understandable,” You sigh. “You shouldn’t drink if you get in such a state. What if you had driven again!? How did you even make it to my apartment last night?”
“Walked.” He shrugs.
“Jungkook.” You hide your face behind your palms when you feel the tears begin to burn in your eyes. He doesn’t say anything. You feel him shuffle a little and then wrap his arms around you in a hug.
“Don’t cry.” He whispers.
“I can’t keep doing this. You need to get help.” You choke back a sob. “Why won’t you?”
His hold on you tightens. “I’m scared. I’m ashamed. I’m supposed to be a fun, party guy. Not an addict.”
Gently you push him away. “There is nothing wrong with needing help Jungkook. From the outside, it appears as if you desperately need it. What can I say to convince you?”
“I…”
“I’ll do anything. I’ll drive you anywhere, Jimin will drive you anywhere. God knows Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi will do anything for you. Take you to AA meetings, therapy, anything. Just tell me what, Jungkook, and I’ll do it.”
“Will everyone think less of me? Will you think less of me?” He asks quietly, taking you aback. “You hate me now. I was awful to you when we were together.”
“No. If anything I’d think more highly of you. It’s infinitely more difficult to take control than it is to lose it.” A lone tear escapes. “In regards to us? We weren’t compatible Kookie, but I loved you very much.”
“I still love you. I think I always will. I’m sorry I fucked up.”
“It’s done. There’s nothing we can do about the past. I’m sorry too. Obviously I care about you, which is why I’m trying my best to help.”
Jungkook nods slowly, processing everything you’ve just explained.
“I’ll do it.” He says with certainty.
“Jungkook,” You desperately want to get your hopes up, he sounds so sure.
“If you help me.”
“Of course.”
“Jimin won’t mind? I know you’re together now.” He asks. Jungkook doesn’t look angry, or even hurt. It’s worse. He looks sad.
“Jimin loves you Jungkook, regardless of everything that’s transpired. I know he won’t mind.”
“Okay.” He replies quietly.
“Stay here for the rest of the day. I’ll make you food, and we can figure out what is the right help for you. I know you felt pressured before but we’ll find what is best for you. You don’t have to do anything against your will. Sound good?” You ask.
“Thank you.” He mumbles meekly.
“It’s still early. Get some sleep.” You give him a small smile before you stand up and leave.
***
Once you return to the privacy of Jimin’s room, you get back into bed. Your boyfriend rouses at the sound of the door clicking shut, which you’re thankful for because you would feel guilty waking him. “Hey beautiful.” He says sleepily. “Where’d you go?”
“I was checking on Jungkook.” You explain. “We need to help him Jimin.”
“I know.” He sits up a little in bed, yawning.
“He promised he would take this seriously. Only if I help him.” You pause, waiting for a negative reaction but Jimin is merely patient, waiting for you to continue. “I told him we all would as long as he stays here today. He might be more receptive to help if we do it more...casually? I think he felt like a hostage at Hoseoks.”
“That’s fine. He can stay here as long as he wants. I hate seeing him like he was last night. He acts like a completely different person when he’s drinking.”
You’re instantly reminded of the physical fight the two men had had, knowing there was no way it would have occurred if Jungkook had been sober. Maybe that’s why Jimin seemed to have forgiven him so quickly.
Lacing your hands with Jimin, you squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Thank you.”
***
Jimin has the tact to remain elusive around the apartment in the following hours. It’s a smart idea to alleviate any tension that his presence may create. You shower first, throwing a hoodie of his and some shorts on before going to see Jungkook. Having spent many nights with Jimin you’re familiar with his morning routine, which is why you’re able to deduce that he’s deliberately taking a long time.
“Can I borrow your phone charger?” Is the first thing Jungkook asks you as you stride into the living room. “My phone died.”
You give him your charger, along with a cup of coffee and sit yourself down beside him. As his phone turns on you can hear the many notifications go off, god knows who he had been calling and texting last night. “How are you feeling?”
“Fuckin’ hungover.” He grimaces. “Where’s Jimin?”
“Shower.”
“Is he pissed off?” Jungkook peers at you over the rim of his coffee mug. His hands are trembling from the after affects of the alcohol.
“No. He’s worried. Everyone is.” You answer truthfully. A few moments of slightly stiff silence pass. You have no idea what is going through Jungkook’s mind at the moment. He’s frowning. “You know, when you attend your trial, if you’re in AA or anything similar it will make you look genuinely remorseful in front of the judge.”
“I am genuinely remorseful.” He mutters. “It’s not as easy as people think just to stop drinking. It’s been my lifestyle for so long now. How am I supposed to tour if I’m sober?!”
The question is rhetorical but you answer anyway. “Lots of rockstars do, you know. If you get treatment you’ll develop coping mechanisms to deal with all of that.”
He makes an agreeable sound but still appears rather skeptical.
After a lengthy discussion (which Jimin awkwardly interrupts to offer food), you manage to convince Jungkook to at least look at AA meetings with you. You promise someone will go with him to everyone one, not to babysit but to be supportive. He’s not allowed to drive at the moment so you surmise having a friend with him would be better than taking a taxi.
Jimin joins you both a little bit later with said promised food, Jungkook calls Hobi to let him know he’s safe. Even though the phone is not on speaker you can hear Hoseok yell. Jungkook simply rolls his eyes.
After he’s eaten Jungkook announces he’s going to leave and head back to Hoseoks. You want him to text you when he’s there (you’re not sure if you even believe him) but you know any amount of pressure right now when he’s this fragile could ruin everything.
The goodbye is awkward, it’s to be expected. He thanks you both, lingers for a moment and then he’s gone. He assured you both that he would text when he is going to go for his first meeting. You really hope he does.
***
Jimin makes sure not to let you forget your promise to model for him. Although the situation with Jungkook left the two of you feeling slightly off kilter for the rest of Saturday, by lunch time Sunday his lingering touches and innuendos leave little to the imagination. He kisses your neck as you’re making food, whispering: “Want to go to my studio? I believe you owe me.”
“Now?” You smile dreamily, leaning into his touch.
“We can eat first, if you want.” He nips the skin at the junction of your neck before running his tongue over the flesh and beginning to suckle. It’s going to leave a bruise, which you absolutely cannot have the day before starting a new job.
“Jimin,” You complain, pushing him off you. “I’ve got work tomorrow, I can’t go in there looking like some horny teenager who let her boyfriend play vampire on their neck.”
“Sorry.” He snickers. “I was thinking some hickeys might look pretty when I paint you. You know most live models are nude...”
“I knew this was a ploy to get me naked.” You smirk, wiping the knife you were using to cut fruit on a dishtowel. It gets tossed in the sink, leaving you hands free to spin in his arms and face him.
“Kind of,” He grins. “But I also really want my muse to model for me.”
“Naked?”
“If you’re comfortable.” His fingers begin to unbutton the oversize plaid shirt of his you’re wearing (stolen of course), until you’re exposed all the way to your navel. Plush lips travel down from your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shiver feeling his saliva meet the cool air. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I think your body is art, y/n. Every inch of it.”
You gasp when he yanks down the cups of your bra, taking a nipple in his mouth. He repeats this on your other breast before gently sucking a bruise on the skin next to it. After a minute or two he pulls away to assess his work with a smirk.
“Jimin,” You pant as your hands fly to grip the counter behind you. He’s barely done anything and you’re already weak for him. “You can’t leave a mark anywhere someone might see.”
“Unless you’re going to work without clothes on, these are just for my eyes only sweetheart.” More buttons are undone as Jimin kneels on the floor before you, grasping your hips in his hands. His mouth trails to the flesh right above your hip bone where he works on forming another lovebite. “Is this turning you on, butterfly?” He asks breathlessly.
Jimin’s big eyes meet yours as he looks up to confirm what he already knows is true. When you don’t answer immediately, he strokes a thumb over your quickly dampening panties, right where your swollen clit would be underneath. “Y-yeah.” You manage to choke out.
“Mhm,” Jimin carries on rubbing you as he resumes sucking a hickey slightly above the mark he just made. After one particular harsh suck and a nip with his teeth you jolt with pleasure. “I can feel how wet you are through your panties.”
“It feels so good.” You almost whimper. “I want more. Take my underwear off.”
“No.” He bites his lip, holding back a devilish look.
“Jimin, please.” You whine. It’s not like him to tease you. “Please.”
“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to be a good girl for me first.” He punctuates his words by increasing the pressure.
“I am being good.” You breath hitches when he stops. “Jimin.”
“I meant, be good and model for me.” He stands up, kissing you teasingly on the lips. “Get dressed, we are going to my studio.”
a/n: if anyone is curious, THIS is what I imagined Jimin’s apartment to be like. THIS is what i imagined the lingerie gift as. (i’m a really visual person & always love it when other writers include stuff like this).
p.s the next chapter is one of the smuttiest things ive ever written oh lawd. prepare yourselves.
p.p.s the next chapter is the end :(
MASTERLIST
#bts fanfiction#bts scenarios#bts au!#bts rockstar!au#bts fanfic#bts ff#park jimin fanfic#jimin fanfiction#jimin fanfic#jimin smut#jimin angst#jimin fluff#kpop fanfiction#jimin au#jimin scenario#Jungkook Fanfiction#jungkook story#jimin story#jungkook smu#bts smut
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 12
PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER
SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell.
All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.
A/N: For some reason my taglist didn’t work last time. Some people didn’t get a noti so make sure you read ch. 11. Link in masterlist!!
Masterlist
Best Excercise For The Heart? Getting Chased by Mob.
Peter's heart was beating on another plane of existence.
His palms were sweaty and stomach just a bit queasy. He knew he shouldn't have had such a big breakfast, but it's not like May would let him leave the house without at least three pancakes shoved into his mouth.
Bucky greets Peter by slapping his hand over his shoulder making him jump in surprise.
"Woah, chill out kid," Bucky said with a chuckle.
"Sorry," he shook his head. "I'm just a little nervous."
"I got ya," Bucky replied. "Listen there's nothing to it, you just gotta sit there. The boss is gonna do all the talking. He just wants us there for backup. Natasha can’t make it so you’re gonna take her spot."
"But why does he want me there?" Peter asked curiously, "I'm still new and–"
"The big guy thinks you've got a lot of potential," Bucky explained and Peter's eyes grow wide in shock. The mob king thought he had potential? He smiles in hiding, trying to not let it get to him. Too late. Head full. Pride skyrocketing.
"Truth is, I don't see it," Bucky stated flatly, "but he's weird like that."
"Thanks, you're so nice," Peter replied, mildly sarcastic, but Bucky lets it go just this once. He shakes him with another pat on the back.
"Come on, get in," he pushes him into the office.
Peter takes a seat next to Sam who gives him a friendly smirk. At least he thinks it's friendly. He really can't tell with those two.
Steve enters the room and Peter sits straight up. The kingpin smiles warmly. “You brought the kid.”
“You told us to,” Bucky replied.
“Right,” Steve said as if he forgot. “How’s it goin’ kid? You and your girl doin’ alright?”
“Yes Sir!” he replied quickly. Steve Rogers remembers that he has a girlfriend. Wow, what a nice guy.
“Now listen here,” Sam brought him back to earth. “When the guy comes don’t get all bouncy. Just chill out and relax.”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded.
“And don’t go blabbing random stuff, ya hear?” Bucky reminded him.
“I don’t do that!” he retorted.
“Only talk when spoken too, but never answer if you don’t know what to say,” Sam instructed. “Never show someone else that you’re unsure. Always be confident even when you’re not.”
“Talk but don’t talk,” Peter repeated. “Be confident even when you’re not. That doesn’t make any sense!”
“It makes perfect sense,” Bucky retorted. “You’re just stupid.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Don’t mess this up, kid or your ass is grass,” Sam warned, earning a loud, guttural groan from Peter.
Steve chuckled. “Listen, Pete, just go with your gut, ya hear? Just go with what you know, alright?”
“Yes, Sir!” He nodded like a child.
A knock came at the door and opened.
“Mr. Rogers,” the secretary popped her head through the door. “Mr. Rumlow is here.”
“Let him in,” Steve waved towards him. She opens the door wider and Brock Rumlow enters. Peter observes him. A scar running across his left cheek with beady black eyes that just screamed sneaky. Not even a word and the boy already knew he couldn’t be trusted.
"Mr. Rogers," Rumlow greeted, extending his hand.
"Mr. Rumlow," Steve shook his hand, "Just call me Steve."
"So the rumors are true, you're an easy man to talk to."
"I just hate the formality and if we can," Steve stated, "let's finish this quick."
"Of course, I know you're a busy man." Rumlow smiles, taking a seat in front of him. "What I'm here for. What I want from you is help," he said. "I need money, investment money. I need three million dollars in cash," he explained further.
Peter's eyes widened. He spoke as if it was a small amount and Steve looked at him with utter nonchalance as if he's just asking for spare change.
"And what else?" Steve question, hooking his leg over the other, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
"I need connections and you have very powerful friends," Rumlow continued. "I need those politicians you keep in your back pocket."
"And what's in it for us?"
"Forty percent," Rumlow stated. "And by the end of the year you'll be raking in around eight to ten million," he estimated.
"And the Lucchese?"
Rumlow chuckles. "I'll take care of them from my own share."
Steve ponders on the information for a bit. His expression was hard to read, leaving the rest in the room waiting in anticipation of his decision. He sat relaxed in his chair, not slumped, but confident and nonchalant.
"So, I get forty percent for finance, political influence, and legal protection?" He points out, extending his fingers as the list goes.
"That's right." Rumlow nodded.
"Why me though?" Steve questioned with a shake of the hand. "Why do I deserve all this generosity?"
Rumlow scoffs. "If three to four million is a small price for you, kingpin, then cheers to you."
Steve's eyes look at him sharply, then he smiles. To Peter, it's more dangerous than friendly.
"I've heard you're a businessman," Steve reminded him, burning out his cigarette in an ashtray. "A serious man needed to be treated with respect."
Rumlow's cocky smile falls and twists into a subtle scowl.
"The thing is I've been looking into this new drug you're proposing. This is nasty stuff worse than any other drug on the market as of now," Steve criticized and Rumlow wasn't pleased.
"Now let's just say this stuff hits it big. Bigger than crack and weed, which it probably will," he stood up and paced the office. "Those crackheads will take anything that gets 'em off for a good ten minutes. But let's just say hypothetically, it gets stuck in the hands of a policeman or even worse—a kid, and he gets caught smoking or even worse dead with that crap. That causes a major issue for me," he points at himself while standing in front of Rumlow.
Rumlow looks up at him and it's like he already knows the answer.
"Yeah, I've got a lot of friends, but I don't think the mayor would be so friendly if he knew I was caught up in this stuff," Steve remarked. "That thing you got is nasty."
"Mr. Rogers," he retorted firmly.
"Listen, I don't care what a man does for a living," Steve cut him off. "I mean look at me. But your business is a bit dangerous."
"If you're worried about your investment. The Lucchese will take care of it." Rumlow assured.
Steve shakes his head with a laugh. The Lucchese were going to insure him? What was he some second rate gangster?
"My answer is final, Mr. Rumlow. It's a no." Steve stated firmly. "Good luck with your business. I know you'll do very well and I wish you all the best. As best as your interests don't conflict with mine." He wished him with a warning in his tone.
Rumlow stands up with a scornful smile. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Rogers," he shook his hand. "I appreciate it."
"No problem," Steve said, placing his hand over their hands and giving it a final good shake. "Buck, please see Mr. Rumlow to the door."
"No, no," he replied. "That won't be necessary. I can find it myself," he nods and leaves the room. “Not like I found much help here anyway.”
"Hey, Pete," Steve said, he points his head towards the door, "follow him out from a distance."
Peter nodded, dashing for the door.
"You think we did the right thing?" Bucky asked, leaning against the desk.
"We can't risk our connections, Buck," Steve said, lighting another stick. "Besides, me? Insured by the Lucchese? Get the fuck outta here," Steve remarked, a chuckle coloring his words making the two erupt in laughter, filling the room with a lighter air.
"You know you don't have to walk me to the bus stop anymore." You said, walking out of the restaurant. "It's only a block away."
A sudden blow of wind rushes past, making you snuggle into the wool scarf wrapped around your neck. You dig your hands deeper into your pockets and look over at Steve to find him unphased by the freezing temperatures of January. Freak.
"I take my job as your bodyguard very seriously." He replied.
"You're not my bodyguard. I don't need a man to protect me." You retorted defiantly.
"Woah there, Susan B. Anthony," Steve put his hands up in surrender, "I was just saying. Don't get all feminist on me."
"And what's wrong with being feminist?" You jabbed.
"Nothing. I love women. All of them. They're amazing. Absolutely wonderful," he complimented. "But not in a creepy way. More of a respectful and cool kinda way."
"Just stop talking, you're making my head spin," you sighed, shaking your head.
"You're so dramatic," he nudged you with his shoulder.
"You're the dramatic one," you pointed out.
"Am not," he retorted.
"Are you joking me right now?" You asked incredulously. "Oh heavens no, she doesn't speak the language of arts whatever shall I do?" You acted breathlessly desperate. Steve rolled his eyes and kept walking.
"How can someone be so simpleminded? I guess I'll just die right here." You fainted against his shoulder with your hand on your forehead and a dramatic sigh.
He pushes you off of him, secretly liking how open you're being with him.
"Ha ha ha, you're hilarious," Steve deadpanned.
"Thanks, I know," you replied boastfully. He snorts, looking away so you wouldn't see him smiling.
He failed. It was hard to miss that pretty smile of his. I didn't mean that. It was a completely objective observation.
Even if you told him not to walk you to the bus stop, you had to admit you enjoyed his company. Your cold cheeks were brushed with a numbing red, but the rest of you was warm. You didn't say a word the rest of the way there, just listened and watched.
You quietly listened to the distant drone of traffic, watched the lights of houses flip on and off. Cool steam rose from the sewer holes and swept along the asphalt of the street. There's not a soul in sight and what sane person would want to be out on a cold night like this? Your footsteps grew gradually slower not really in a hurry to get anywhere. Like they're trying to make the journey last as long as it can.
You don't know why, but the air feels tense. Heavy with something you can't really find a name for, but something you knew all too well. You pull your sweaty hands out of your pockets, stretching them to get some air through the cracks.
Steve watches his footsteps and how they're in sync with yours. He feels more at peace here with you than he's felt in the past week. You're like a remedy to all his problems.
When he's with you, the pressures of the mob slowly fade away. The burden of working over a hundred men and maintaining his power disappears for just a moment of time. When he's with you, he's not the kingpin, he's just Steve. Just a normal guy. You've never really seen him as anything else and he hopes it'll stay like that forever.
"That's strange," you said, checking your phone for the time while approaching the bus stop. "The bus is usually here by now."
"Maybe it's just a few minutes late?"
"Maybe."
The two of you waited for the bus patiently. Ten minutes had passed and the bus was nowhere to be seen. You looked from side to side to check the street and your eyes fell onto the car standing right across you. It was black with tinted windows. You recalled seeing the same exact car outside the restaurant and that part of your brain stuffed with crime shows is finally starting to crank its gears.
The car was off and there was a good chance that no one was inside, but you were never one to believe in coincidences.
"Steve," you said making sure not to look at the car again.
"Yeah?" He asked and from his face, you think he's already noticed.
"I might be crazy but I feel like I've seen the car across the street," you said, calmly. "At the restaurant."
"So have I," he nodded with a smile as if he's just having a casual conversation.
"Then what do we do?" You asked, shrugging.
"Let's just walk," he replied, pulling you along with him.
You walked down the sidewalk side by side and while your expression was calm, your insides were a frantic mess.
The quick rhythmic beat of your steps against the cracked sidewalks wasn't the only thing breaking the deafening silence of the street as the sound of car doors slamming and burly footsteps shuffled behind you slowly.
Your fingers intertwined with Steve's instinctively and he squeezes your hand tight. You look at him, heart thumping and thoughts racing.
"Hey, baby, don't worry, I got you." He gave you an amused smile, masking his own fear.
This isn't the first time something like this has happened, or the second, or the third. It's happened many times just not with an innocent civilian by his side. He had a knack for being a bit reckless but with you here he couldn't take that risk. Your safety was his top priority.
You pouted with a huff. "Don't call me, baby," you warned, your strides growing wider to match his.
"At the corner, we make a run for it," he ordered.
You nodded, taking silent, deep breaths to calm your speeding heart. You didn't dare to take a look behind in fear of what you'd see. Not like you needed to see anything. The sound of their footsteps was enough to know that something was wrong, slow and anxiously needy. Each step towards the end of the street gets heavier. The ones behind getting dangerously closer.
Steve pulls on your hand as he makes a sharp turn at the bend, dragging you behind him like a kite in the wind. You don't even know how you're keeping up with him at this point. It's just one foot in front of the other powered by an extraordinary rush of adrenaline.
You can hear the baying howls of the men behind you, ordering you to stop as if you're actually going to do that.
Steve's death grip on your hand is the only thing that keeps you anchored to the real world. Your thoughts are blank and all you can think of how you're possibly going to get out of this.
There are two of you against at least five of them.
Scratch that. More like one and a half against five.
You're screwed. This was where you died and you didn't even get to graduate from college yet.
Steve takes a sharp left at the corner and squeezes you into a tight alleyway between two buildings.
You put your hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your breathing. Heavy footsteps draw nearer and continue past the alleyway until they fade into the distance. Your hand drops to your side allowing you to take free breaths of fresh air.
"You okay?" Steve asked, catching his own breath.
You look up at him and nodded. "Yeah."
The alleyway was narrow, very narrow, and the two of you were pressed against each other with only enough wiggle room for one to move.
Steve's cheeks redden by the way your body is pressed against his in all the right places. Sure he's imagined it before, but not exactly like this. He looks at everything but you, so he doesn’t lose himself.
He's not alone in his embarrassment as you start to heat up despite the frigid temperatures of a midwinter's night.
"D-do you–um–do you think they're gone?" You whispered.
He shrugs unknowingly. You squeeze past him just enough to stick your head out. You look to the left then to right.
"I think the coast is clear," you said, getting out of the tight spot. Steve follows suit and pats the dust off his clothes.
"Well that was something," he chuckles nervously.
You place your hands on your hips with a judgemental look. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."
Steve scratches the back of his head sheepishly.
In the distance, the shrill screeching of wheels blares in the night with a blinding light coming in your direction.
You should run, but your legs feel like mush and getting caught sounded better than running right now. Steve covers you with himself as the car slows just in front of you.
The window rolls down to reveal a cheeky Bucky.
Steve groans for the whole neighborhood to hear. "For fuck's sake, Buck, you scared the shit out of me."
You peek out from behind him to find Bucky. His eyes meet yours and he smirks devilishly.
"Sorry, big boss, been lookin' everywhere for you," he gets out of the car with a chuckle. "And of course I'd find you canoodling with ya girl."
"I am no one's girl," you stated firmly, jumping out from behind.
"Right. We're not there yet," Bucky replied and Steve might just snap his neck if he keeps talking. "Anyways my name's Bucky, I'm an old friend of Stevie's. Nice to finally meet ya," he extends his hand. You shake it warily. "That's Sam," he points at the man standing against the car behind him and I guess you already know Pete."
"Hi, Y/N!" Peter waves, falling out of the back window with a gummy smile on his face.
You gasp at the sight of the curly-haired boy. You run up to him at the window.
"Peter! What are you doing here?" You questioned. "Do you know what time it is? Go home to your girlfriend!"
"I wish." Peter sighed sadly, arms dangling out of the car. "But I can't, I'm on night duty."
"Listen," Bucky directed towards Steve, "we got some trouble down at the dock in the Bronx. We think it's Rumlow."
Steve mutters a curse underneath his breath.
"I guess he's the same bastard that tried to kill me like five minutes ago," he cursed. "Can't take no for an answer."
"Who's Rumlow? And why is he trying to kill you?" You asked, eyes solely on Steve, questioning his every gesture.
Steve sighed, not really wanting you to get involved in all of this. He knew it'd happen someday, but not this fast.
"I think it's best if we not talk about this out in the open," Sam advised. "So get in the car."
"Best idea you've had all day, Sammy," Bucky noted opening his door.
"Shut up."
Peter opens the door and scoots over to let you in and you have no choice but to go in. After what just happened, there's no way you're walking home alone.
Steve sits right next to you and closes the door behind him, signaling Sam to drive. It's kind of awkward being stuck in a car with a bunch of mobsters, but beggars can't be choosers. At least you know they won't kill you.
"Nat's already at the house," Bucky told Steve. "She's the one who found out about the whole mixup in the Bronx."
Steve nodded with a cautious look in his eye. Bucky knew exactly what he was saying without him even saying a word.
"Not in front of her."
"So where exactly are we going?" You asked.
"My place," Steve replied.
Your heart skipped a beat at the thought.
"If it's not a problem can you just drop me home?"
"I could but then I'd be worried about you all night," Steve said and it goes straight to the tips of your ears. It shouldn't have. The three snickered at Steve, but he ignored them. "Stay over my place for the night?"
“What? No, I can’t.” you denied. "I don’t even think they saw me,” you noted. “So it’ll be fine.”
“You sure about that sis?" Sam asked with a chuckle. "The mob ain’t as simple as it sounds. They’re probably already trying to figure out who you are.”
“Stop scaring her," Steve warned.
“I’m not scared.” you retorted. “I just don’t wanna intrude.”
“Or get involved," Bucky added.
“Maybe that too. So just drop me off please? I’ve got class in the morning.”
“Sorry, I can’t let that happen," Steve shakes his head in denial. "After what happened tonight who knows what’s gonna happen? I mean they could be trailing us for all we know. You really want those goons knowing where you live?”
“No," you whispered. You didn't think about it like that.
“Then just for tonight, okay?" He places his hand on top of yours and it feels nice, but not enough for you to accept. "I’ll drop you off first thing in the morning.”
“Don’t worry,” Bucky turned towards you from the front. “Stevie’s got a really nice place. With big fancy iron gates and a giant fountain. Never-ending fridge. The whole shebang."
Steve rolls his eyes. Sometimes he questioned why he even knew Bucky.
"Besides you'll love Lucky," Sam pointed out.
You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Lucky? Who's Lucky?"
"It's the boss's dog," Peter answered.
Your jaw goes slack in shock. "YOU HAVE A DOG?"
"Yeah," he said nonchalantly.
"WHAT KIND?" You questioned shaking his arm violently, "HOW OLD?"
"It's a Samoyed and two." He replied, pushed up against the door by the way you're bouncing on the seat.
"Okay let's go to your place," you agreed. Steve chuckles with a shake of the head. "Hey, Sam right?"
"Yeah?"
"No offense man, but can you drive any faster?" You questioned.
"I don't want a speeding ticket," Sam confessed.
You look at him incredulously.
"The Brooklyn Mob is just a bunch of twinks," you jeered.
"Hey!" Steve exclaimed.
"And you're the biggest one."
TAGLIST: @ashwarren32 @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan @rootcrop @savedbystark @siriusement @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @scuzmunkie @achishisha @calwitch @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @booktease21 @rinkashirikitateku @voltage-my2dlove @boxofteenageideas @imsonick
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers#mob!steve#mob!steve rogers x reader#mobster steve rogers x reader#mob!steve rogers x you#mob au#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers fluff
303 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Thiasus
So, folks, let's start the wlw miniseries writing project!
As announced, the first series to be posted is the Ancient Greece one suggested by @jackievarma , others will soon follow. I decided to name the first bit The Thiasus as it takes place on Lesbos at the famous Sappho's thiasus where rich girls were sent to be educated before their wedding.
Since this is the first fic of this miniseries project, I will just share one thing, so that you can choose whether my approach suits you or not. After much consideration, I decided not to omit from the stories potentially uncomfortable issues. I will add a trigger alert if need be but especially writing about women through the centuries, I'd consider a distortion of truth cutting off for instance homophobia, transphobia, forced marriages, and other unpleasantries like these. They won't be the main topic of my works but sadly they are part of what women had - and still as in a way- to go through so, no matter how tough adding it to the romances is for me, banishing them from these stories would have sounded like spreading a lovely lie, which in the end is simply a lie. Not sure they will recur systematically but if you find it in any of my stories, you know why.
Also, I absolutely hate when writers make poor wlw suffer or die, depriving them of the happy ending we all dreamed of. However, I am the worst at writing happy endings but I'll try. Don't be mad at me if sometimes you won't find one: happy endings aren't and weren't always feasible. But a sad ending is not necessarily mean or homophobic or so I think.
Apologies for the long talk, hope you enjoy it! The next part will be out on Saturday
--------------------------
When I joined the thiasus, I was young, a pretty little flower yet to blossom. The first born of a merchant hoping to score a good match and wedding for her daughter. I didn't know what to expect: Sappho's community was well renewed and respected all over Greece, but I knew little about it. All I knew was that it was a school where young girls like me could learn all they needed to learn to be the good wives of powerful men one day. I didn't mind being around girls -if they weren't as annoying as my sisters- but it didn't sound too exciting: we were expected to learn how to properly behave and please, how to sing, play instruments and dance to appeal the Gods and our betrothed.
It wasn't entirely correct. Yes, of course, we learned all those things there and refined our grace: from raw childish material we blossomed into gracious young women thanks to Sappho's teachings. But we also learned something more invaluable...eternal, I'd say.
One of the first classes I had there was a few days after my arrival. We were sitting in a circle near an altar in the green, the murmur of the waves crushing against the rocky cliffs echoing in the distance. Our teacher kept quiet for a while, her eyes wandering, taking in each one of us. Then, out of the blue, she asked us what the best thing in the world is. What do you value most in this world?, she inquired. What would you say?
Silence fell in our group before someone said "the favour of the Gods" and another "power". A girl sitting next to me exclaimed "a fair husband" while I humbly suggested "happiness". What should we all seek in this life if not happiness? Sappho pondered our words then smiled. When she spoke again, she recited lines that went straight to my heart like an arrow:
Some celebrate the beautyof knights, or infantry, or billowing flotillasat battle on the sea.Warfare has its glory, but I place far abovethese military splendorsthe one thing that you love.For proof of this contentionexamine history: we all remember Helen, who left her family, her child, and royal husband, to take a stranger's hand: her beauty had no equal, but bowed to love's command.As love then is the powerthat none can disobey, so too my thoughts must followmy darling far away: the sparkle of her laughterwould give me greater joythan all the bronze-clad heroes
I spent the rest of the day repeating those words in my head and wondering who was "her darling far away" whose laughter was a memory so dear to win over glorious heroes. I also wondered if I would ever feel anything close to that: a tender smile still lingered on my teacher's lips at the thought of her. It must be nice, I thought.
I've always been a good singer: when I was still at my parents's house I would shock my poor mother and nana saying that I wanted to be a singer, to sing for the passerby in the streets. Nana would comment harshly that it wasn't an honourable occupation for a girl. "Not a respected girl, at least" she chastised me, giving me an assessing look. Mother would agree and suggest that I could always sing for my husband and our guests one day, if my betrothed agreed. Funny enough, it's what happened: I'm an honorouble woman who delights my husband's guest with the finest melodies and hymns. I gave up my dream of singing and dancing free in the streets.
But I wasn't surprised to excel in singing at the thiasus. It was not out of hubris, I was just aware of my skills and I basked in my teacher's appraisal. I was so excited when she offered me to perform a duet with another student for the upcoming celebrations. Generally, only older students were allowed to perform on such occasions but she believed I had a special gift and I would have done just fine. What better way to thank the Gods for the talent I received from them? I studied my part eagerly and when I was ready I came back to her and she introduced me to my partner.
A girl slightly older than me was sitting with her, her raven curls dancing in the salty breeze from the sea. She graciously stood as Sappho explained the reason of my presence there and told my name, singing my praises. The girl smiled at me and I blushed a little in the sunlight. She noticed and looked back at our teacher, smiling to herself. Or refraining herself from giggling in front of Sappho.
"And this, my sweet Athenian, is Kleanthis" our teacher announced with pride.
Kleanthis. I repeated her name in my head and it filled me like the perfume of a sweet flower.
Kleanthis came from a nearby island, Samos, and was one of the most brilliant student. By the way Sappho talked of her, I got the impression she was destined to follow our teacher's path one day. I was right but I couldn't possibly know it back then.
When the pleasantries were over and we were left alone to rehearse before the celebrations, Kleanthis collected her lyre and guided me towards a beach nearby. Once there, she gently strummed her instrument and looked at me over her shoulder.
"Let me hear what you've got, Athenian"
The first lines were hers: her voice was like a siren's song but not as harmful. She swayed with the music and I had to concentrate not to miss my part just after hers. I had never seen someone like her: as she performed, she transformed herself, her whole body, not just her voice was participating and praising the goddess. She looked nothing short than a terrestrial manifestation of the Graces. Maybe she was one of them, I remember thinking: after all, the Gods visit our world under disguise.
We repeated our parts over and over and stopped only when the sun was about to go down into the sea. She wiped away the sweat from her forehead and smirked, handing me her lyre.
"Not bad, Athenian. How long you said you've been here?"
Then she walked towards the sea and washes her hands into the sea, her face. When she moved back and asked me to follow her, I was mesmerised by the way the last rays of sun sparkled on her wet skin.
That night we performed by the altar and it was...magical. Our voices fused together as if they had always meant to be, as if we were the two souls separated by the Gods and destined to meet again. Our hymn to Hera reached the sky and the hearts of our audience.
I was ecstatic: the thrill of the performance still running in my veins, the lights of the torches and the moonlight dancing around me, the admiration of the people surrounding me. I felt as if my heart could burst for too much happiness all at once.
I went looking for Kleanthis after the celebrations. I wanted to congratulate her and share with her the whirl of feelings inside me. I found her near the woods, away from the crowd. The first thing I noticed was that...she wasn't alone. A few girls were around her, chatting and whispering words I couldn't hear into each other ears. Kleanthis was laughing: one of the girls wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek making her laugh. A melodious sweet laughter.
A knot formed in my stomach and I ran away before they could spotted me. I ran to my bed: my cheeks were crimson when I stopped. I laid down and hugged my knees as I used to do when I was a kid and needed reassurance. Kleanthis's laughter rang in my head again and I started crying. I had no idea why but tears ran copiously down my cheeks.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
1x07 Discussion Questions
My b! My b! I usually try to do these when the episode is fresh but instead I went to sleep, I am at peace with my priorities, tbh. As always, many thanks to @pynkhues for her time and energy putting these together and shout out to @foxmagpie for the assist.
1. What was your favourite scene of the episode? Tell us why!
Lot of contenders, tbh. I really love the scene with Mary Pat when she puts together the (extremely transparent) bullshit that is the whole secret shopper scheme (I mean come on y’all, did you even try????), I love Ruby and Stan’s date (high five to Stan for coming through with my parks & rec reference, it’s nice to know there is one (1) man I can count on). The Annie and Greg bit is REALLY SWEET LEAVE ME ALONE. The god tier brio content, specifically The Grab Heard Round The World My Living Room and the Give Me A Name bit. Some classic Rio nonsense (do you think if we asked him to point to an egg he’d point to an apple?) Tyler and his “reeeeeeally fill out the surveys?” was, obvs, the best moment on the entire show. Anyway, one of those for sure.
2. Was there any scene that missed the mark for you? And if so, how?
The Boomer setting up Annie stuff always falls flat to me and idk exactly why? Like, individual pieces of it are great, Mae does EXCELLENT work post police station and when getting arrested in the first place but ultimately I find it fairly forgettable in the grand scheme of things.
3. Let’s talk about the secret shopper scheme! What do you think were the strengths of it? The flaws? Do you think it had longterm potential? Or was it always going to crash and burn?
I said this during the rewatch but I straight up blocked out the fact that all of the shoppers are hitting the same store on the same day (waving around upwards of $5k in cash???? no less???????) because my brain cannot comprehend how three women we’re supposed to believe are reasonably intelligent didn’t realize this was the stupidest, most transparently obvious, most short-sighted scheme in the entire world.
I struggled with the sustainability of it a bit when I thought they were spreading their efforts around (they roped in A Lot of people, there are only so many Costcos in the Detroit metro area and waving around that much cash and then returning it all, again for cash, is uh, already p memorable) but I could deal with it when I thought they were spreading it around. Short-sighted, immediate solutions are a cornerstone of Beth’s brand, after all, but all of them at the same store at the same day???? Too much. I cannot.
4. The girls spent their money in very different ways! Ruby on romancing Stan, Annie on clothes for her son, and Beth on jewellery for herself. What do you think this tells us about them and their arcs? Particularly coming off the back of Ruby’s conflict with Stan, Ben’s issues at school with clothes, and Beth leaving Rio her pearls?
Love these connects. The show’s got a pretty clearly defined and consistent visual/character motifs (this may or may not be the word I’m looking for, shut up) when it comes to depicting the girls priorities and motivations. You also see it reflected and reinforced with their repeated coping mechanisms throughout the show. Whenever bad stuff happens, Ruby goes home to Stan, Annie crawls into bed with Ben and we usually close with Beth either alone (ouch david) or connecting with Rio in some way (exhibit a: the aforementioned pearls).
In all of the instances it comes back to the heart of their priorities:
Stan is Ruby’s number one, (which isn’t to say her kids aren’t a part of that, I think Stan is both himself in this sense while also representing her whole Hill family unit—TV is all about visual shorthand kids—but also it serves to illustrate that Ruby has something Beth and Annie do not: a true partner).
Ben is at the root of everything Annie does, she makes choices based on not only his. well-being, but how he sees her and he has the most influence over how she sees herself and what actions she takes as a result of that.
Beth, on the other hand, is at a contrasting point. She’s done the devoted partner and mother thing (lowkey implied by the little bits and pieces we get of her and Annie’s childhoods to some degree more or less for her entire life) and is now putting herself first, her needs, her wants. Which isn’t to say she doesn’t give a fuck about her family, she waits until she’s got a fat stack of cash and they’re taken care of before splurging on a thing, but as a symbol I think the necklace pretty clearly illuminates that for whatever Beth tells herself, she’s building an empire for herself, bc she wants it, needing it is secondary.
5. Eddie’s arrest is arguably what sets us on a collision course with the finale! Do you think Eddie was loyal to Rio until the end? How much do you think he told Turner? And what sort of loyalty do you think Rio inspires in his boys? And why doesn’t it translate with the girls?
OF COURSE EDDIE WAS LOYAL TO THE END HE HAS CLEARLY DEMONSTRATED HE HAS SOME KIND OF CODE OF HONOR HOW DARE YOU SLANDER MY BOY LIKE THAT.
Tbh idk how to answer the loyalty question without more information from canon because the gang and how they operate, how they all came together, etc is pretty well shrouded in not-central-narrative-focus, though I think it’s been implied somewhat heavily that what’s going on with the girls is not standard operating procedure.
My personal headcanon for Eddie is tied up in my personal backstory for Rio and Mick that I started for my (lmao first) Mick POV fic. I gave Rio and Mick a friends since we were kids backstory and decided Eddie was a kid in their neighborhood, slightly younger then them, and always looked up to them/followed them around/thought they were cool. He ultimately got involved in crime because they did and they looked out for him and brought him up with them (which, you know, makes how it all turns out that much more tragic). Obvs, this is all just me and my tendency to imprint on random side characters and give them backstories. Let me live.
6. This episode introduces us to Mary Pat, who’s probably one of this show’s most complicated antagonists! What do you think of her generally? And could you have predicted her arc with Boomer and Turner?
I love her and I’m done lying to myself about it.
LISTEN, first off, Allison Tolman is great. Her line delivery is fantastic, she has a knack for subtly adding SO MUCH to every scene she’s in and uses her face and inflection and pauses exquisitely. Top notch comedic timing. Truly a gem.
Second, on a character level, the lady is in a bad spot and the girls basically gift-wrapped the circumstances and handed them to her like here is a present!!!!!!!!!!!! What was a struggling girl to do besides accept what was offered to her??????!!!!!!???
7. This episode features a very pivotal scene in terms of the Beth, Ruby and Annie dynamic. What starts as tension between Annie and Beth quickly pivots when Ruby criticises Beth and Annie leaps to her sister’s defence. What do you think this tells us about the dynamic between the girls as pairs and as a trio?
I am so!!!! curious!!!!!!! about the backstory that exists in the writers’ heads for Ruby and Annie (all three of them, really, but the bff and little sister having an independent friendship is of particular interest to me bc it isn’t something you, or I guess I, run into a lot) and how much of it was defined at this point vs how much it’s evolved/fluctuated as the show goes on. This fight pretty clearly illuminated that when it really comes down to it, it’s Beth and Annie vs Ruby which a) breaks my heart and b) isn’t totally a dynamic I think the show ultimately stuck with? Or maybe intentionally fluctuates? Idk this is a half-baked thought. Ask again later.
8. Greg is the one who kisses Annie! Who do you think left who in that relationship, and/or what were the biggest issues in that relationship?
I feel like there’s pretty much no way Annie wasn’t the one that called things off with Greg. Not just because of how it plays out this time but because he’s got a kind of persistent yet also go with the flow attitude that makes me think he would absorb a lot in the name of making it work whereas Annie seems to have a pretty established history of cutting her losses and bailing when she hits her limit. Based on how fond they are of each other and how much affection they clearly still hold, I tend to assume they just grew apart as they grew up which makes it almost more complicated and tragic because it leaves all of the good stuff and just mixes it with the knowledge that it wasn’t enough.
9. What did you think of Ruby’s sauce story? And what do you think it meant as a turning point for her arc?
I HATE THIS STORY SO MUCH USED BAND AIDS ARE GROSS ENOUGH ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT MIXING IN FOOD SERVICE AND MONTHS, MONTHS, OF MARINATION. I REFUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.
10. Knowing that Beth, Ruby and Annie’s system of paying Mary Pat off doesn’t work, do you think there was a way they could’ve handled her on their own that would’ve worked? Or do you think Rio’s intimidation (and potential murder) tactic was the only way out?
Idk maybe I’m just cynical, but I take trust no bitch to heart, they pretty well screwed themselves into a corner by being idiots.
#rewatching this ep taught me a lot about my feelings on the secret shopper scheme#gg rewatch#gg 1x07#gg related#shut up meg
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Friday, February 26, 2021
Canada says genocide
(Foreign Policy) The Canadian Parliament overwhelmingly voted in favor of declaring the atrocities in Xinjiang genocide. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau abstained from voting on the motion, which passed 266-0. China has responded with the usual vitriol. The decision follows former U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo’s declaration of genocide, despite a split memo from the State Department. Some U.S. lawyers argue that the atrocities are crimes against humanity but not genocide. The Canada-China relationship is already fraught. Two years ago, China detained two Canadian citizens, Michael Kovrig and Michael Spavor, on spying charges after Canada detained the CFO of Huawei, Meng Wanzhou, following a U.S. extradition request. The Canadian government has described China’s actions as “hostage diplomacy.” The new genocide bill includes a provision calling for the 2022 Winter Olympics to be moved from Beijing if the atrocities continue—a significant move given Canada’s influence in winter sports.
School voucher push taps frustration over distance learning
(AP) With her children struggling in many classes last spring, Kelli Rivera became so frustrated with how her suburban Atlanta district was handling the coronavirus pandemic that she withdrew them to home-school them. They’re back in public school and mostly attending class in person. For now. Rivera is thinking of enrolling her younger son in private school next year, and she hopes the state of Georgia might help her pay for it with an expansion of school choice programs. “We’ve been just a public school family forever, without any intention or desire to leave,” Rivera said. “But when the pandemic hit and we moved into virtual schooling, it really wasn’t working for us.” School choice advocates and lawmakers in many states are counting on the frustrations of parents like Rivera to bolster efforts to pass or expand laws allowing families to use public money to pay for private school or to help teach their own children at home. Some sort of school choice program already gets public money in 29 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. “If you talk to any parent of a school-aged child, what you’ll find, literally across the board, is they’re just mad, frustrated, that traditional public school districts failed to deliver education to their children,” said American Federation for Children President John Schilling, who lobbies for school choice programs. “What the pandemic has laid bare is just how inflexible the K-12 system is.”
Cold wreaks havoc on aging waterworks
(AP) The sunshine is back and the ice has melted. But more than a week after a deep freeze across the South, many communities are still grappling with getting clean water to their citizens. For years, experts have warned of the need to upgrade aging and often-neglected waterworks. Now, after icy weather cracked the region’s water mains, froze equipment and left millions without service, it’s clear just how much work needs to be done. Families stood for hours in lines to get drinking water. They boiled it to make it safe to drink or brush their teeth. They scooped up snow and melted it in their bathtubs. Hospitals collected buckets of water to flush toilets. “You don’t realize how much you use water until you don’t have it,” said Brian Crawford, chief administrative officer for the Willis-Knighton Health System in the northwestern Louisiana city of Shreveport, where water pressure at one hospital only started returning to normal Wednesday. Tanker trucks had supplied it with water since last week. The still-unfolding problems have exposed extensive vulnerabilities. Many water systems have decades-old pipes, now fragile and susceptible to breaking. A 2018 survey by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency estimated $473 billion was needed over 20 years to maintain and improve water infrastructure. In a 2020 report, the American Society of Civil Engineers said a water main breaks every two minutes on average in the U.S., and described “chronic, long-term and insufficient investment.”
Shopping online eases isolation for older adults
(AP) In November, Paula Mont did something new: The 86-year-old, who hasn’t left her New Jersey senior living community in nearly a year, went shopping—online. Mont used an iPad, equipped with a stylus to help her shaky hands, to buy a toy grand piano for her great-granddaughter. She picked it out from more than a dozen versions of the instrument on Amazon. “It is like a wow feeling. I found it!” Mont said. The pandemic has motivated many who have been isolated at home or unable to leave their senior communities to learn something they may have resisted until now: how to buy groceries and more online. Instacart president Nilam Ganenthiran predicted that online groceries will be a “new normal” for older people even when the pandemic ends. Still, there are many barriers, from struggling to use new technology to high prices to access.
Venezuela kicks out head of EU delegation after new sanctions
(Reuters) Venezuelan Foreign Minister Jorge Arreaza said on Wednesday that the head of the European Union’s delegation in Caracas had 72 hours to leave the South American country and declared her persona non grata after the bloc imposed new sanctions on Venezuelan officials this week. In announcing the action against Portuguese national Isabel Brilhante, Arreaza described the sanctions against 19 Venezuelan officials as “truly unacceptable.” The sanctions were a response to legislative elections won by President Nicolas Maduro’s allies that Venezuela’s opposition and many Western democracies deemed fraudulent. Two EU diplomats said the move was unwelcome but will not change the bloc’s policy, end sanctions, or derail efforts to mediate a way toward new “free and fair” presidential elections in the country.
Ecuador raises death toll from prison riots to 79, says situation controlled
(Reuters) Ecuador on Wednesday raised the death toll from riots in four jails to 79, and said authorities had regained control following one of the bloodiest outbreaks of prison violence in its history. Police and troops were stationed at detention centers in the cities of Guayaquil, Cuenca and Latacunga, where gangs on Tuesday fought one another with handmade weapons in what authorities said was a coordinated outbreak of violence. Prison authority SNAI said all those killed the rioting were prisoners. President Lenin Moreno declared Ecuador’s prison system in a state of emergency in 2019 after a wave of incidents that killed 24.
Britain’s GCHQ cyber spies embrace the AI revolution
(Reuters) Britain’s cyber spies at the GCHQ eavesdropping agency say they have fully embraced artificial intelligence (AI) to uncover patterns in vast amounts of global data. AI, which traces its history back to British mathematician Alan Turing’s work in the 1930s, allows modern computers to learn to sift through data to see the shadows of spies and criminals that a human brain might miss. GCHQ, where Turing cracked Germany’s naval Enigma code during World War Two, said advances in computing and the doubling of global data every two years meant it would now fully embrace AI to unmask spies and identify cyber attacks. The world’s biggest spy agencies in the United States, China, Russia and Europe are in a race to embrace the might of the technological revolution to bolster their defensive and offensive capabilities in the cyber realm.
Amnesty strips Alexei Navalny of ‘prisoner of conscience’ status
(BBC) Amnesty International has stripped the Russian opposition politician Alexei Navalny of his “prisoner of conscience” status after it says it was “bombarded” with complaints highlighting xenophobic comments that he has made in the past and not renounced. A spokesman for the human rights organisation in Moscow told the BBC that he believed the wave of requests to “de-list” Navalny was part of an “orchestrated campaign” to discredit Vladimir Putin’s most vocal critic and “impede” Amnesty’s calls for his release from custody. But on review, Amnesty International concluded that comments made by Navalny some 15 years ago, including a video which appears to compare immigrants to cockroaches, amounted to “hate speech” which was incompatible with the label “prisoner of conscience”. “We had too many requests; we couldn’t ignore them,” spokesman Alexander Artemev told the BBC, explaining that the team initially discounted Navalny’s previous statements—which he has not repeated—as “not relevant” in the light of his current, political persecution.
India and Pakistan announce cease-fire for first time in nearly 20 years
(Washington Post) India and Pakistan announced Thursday that their militaries would cease firing across their shared border, the first such step since 2003 and a potentially significant move toward lessening tensions between the two rivals. Military officials in the two countries released a joint statement saying they had agreed to a cease-fire that went into effect at midnight, including along the unofficial frontier in the disputed region of Kashmir. Indian and Pakistani soldiers regularly exchange mortar and small-arms fire in the region, a situation that analysts have described as a war by other means. The low-grade conflict is deadly, with dozens of villagers and military personnel killed each year. Relations between the two neighbors have been frosty since 2019, when India conducted an airstrike in Pakistan after a terrorist attack killed 40 Indian soldiers in Kashmir. The two countries then engaged in their first aerial dogfight in nearly 50 years. Cross-border firing in Kashmir—which can involve everything from small arms to artillery—has also intensified. There were more than 5,000 such incidents in 2020, according to Indian data, the highest such figure since 2002.
Hong Kong’s Lesson to Schoolchildren: Love China, No Questions Asked
(NYT) The orders seemed innocuous, even obvious: Primary school students in Hong Kong should read picture books about Chinese traditions and learn about famous sites such as the Forbidden City in Beijing or the Great Wall. But the goal was only partially to nurture an interest in the past. The central aim of the new curriculum guidelines, unveiled by the Hong Kong government this month, was much more ambitious: to use those historical stories to instill in the city’s youngest residents a deep-rooted affinity for mainland China—and, with it, an unwavering loyalty to its leaders and their strong-arm tactics. Students, the guidelines said, should develop “a sense of belonging to the country, an affection for the Chinese people, a sense of national identity, as well as an awareness of and a sense of responsibility for safeguarding national security.” The Hong Kong government is using history as a potentially powerful tool to inculcate obedience and patriotism. In some cases, the government has moved to literally rewrite history. It is backing the creation of a 66-volume set of “Hong Kong Chronicles,” which is projected to cost $100 million and promises a “comprehensive, systematic and objective” record of the city’s last 7,000 years. In official yearbooks that summarize the government’s achievements, references to past cooperation with Western countries—which had been reprinted without change for decades—have disappeared. In mainland China, major events, including the government’s 1989 massacre of Tiananmen Square protesters, have been largely erased from public memory by censorship and official directives that insist on “patriotic education.” Critics fear that model is being imported to Hong Kong.
Pro-military marchers in Myanmar attack anti-coup protesters
(AP) Members of a group supporting Myanmar’s military junta attacked and injured people protesting Thursday against the army’s Feb. 1 seizure of power that ousted the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi. At least several people were injured in the attacks in Myanmar’s largest city. The chaos complicates an already intractable standoff between the military and a protest movement that has been staging large-scale demonstrations daily to have Suu Kyi’s government restored to power. Photos and videos on social media showed the attacks and injured people in downtown Yangon as police stood by without intervening. The attackers fired slingshots and carried iron rods, knives and other sharp implements.
US-Saudi relations
(Times of London) President Biden will warn Saudi Arabia’s aging King Salman of his intent to reset US relations with the kingdom as he prepares to unveil a possibly explosive report on the killing of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi. Mr. Biden will speak to the king soon and does not expect his son, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, 35, the kingdom’s day-to-day ruler, to be on the call, the White House press secretary, Jen Psaki, said yesterday. The normally routine matter of protocol represented by Biden’s first phone call to the kingdom as president has taken on significance in the light of his pledge, outlined in his election campaign and by aides since he took office, to upend US policy towards the Middle East. A CIA report due to be declassified and published this week on Khashoggi’s murder is expected to suggest that it was ordered by the crown prince.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Title: I loved your colours (before I loved you)
Artist: @calliartss
Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only)
Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Clary Fray, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood
Word Count: ~95k
Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.
In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind.
This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020.
Chapter 7: Nice to have a friend
If Magnus had thought audition day had been chaotic, it had nothing on the first photoshoot of the season.
Alec and Isabelle had warned him, of course, that the first event for a specific collection was always stressful for everyone involved, surpassed only by the final event – in this case, the March fashion show – but he hadn’t expected… this.
He hadn’t expected people running everywhere, barking out orders and moving the models around like they were pieces of furniture. He hadn’t expected Alec and Clary to be running the place like two insane captains who knew where everything was supposed to go but hadn’t told the rest of the team about their plan. He hadn’t expected Raphael, of all people, to be fidgeting restlessly as though this was the biggest event of his life.
Thankfully, he had Isabelle by his side to metaphorically hold his hand and check up on him every few minutes, keeping him as sane as he could possibly be in the midst of the floor’s disorder.
“And this happens every time?” He asked, his eyebrows raising incredulously when Isabelle, Meliorn, and Aline all nodded simultaneously. “Shouldn’t they have gotten used to the flow by now? I mean, Alexander has been in charge for quite a few years, and Clarissa has been there just as long, so I assumed…”
“That they’d be more put together?” Isabelle snorted. “Yeah, no. Look, the shoots always go well. They know what they’re doing, even when it looks like they’re panicking and the results are always amazing. Raphael will pull it together in about thirty minutes, and then we’ll be ready to start the real show.”
“The real show?” Emily asked softly. The poor girl looked like she was seconds away from bolting out of the room, only held back by the tight grip Andrew had on her hand.
“The collection reveal,” Kaelie answered blithely, rolling her eyes at the two younger models. “The pieces aren’t all ready, but this is usually the moment when Clary does her little presentation and tells us about what we’re expected to wear, who’ll be featuring on the covers…”
“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t my favourite part of the process,” Isabelle grinned at Magnus excitedly. “My brother and Clary are always so mysterious when it comes to the collection, and they refuse to give me hints or sneak peeks, so I always love this big revelation moment. Clary is… Really talented.”
“Oh, I know,” Magnus smirked, nudging his friend in the ribs. “Although I’m sure she has quite a few talents she’d only want to show you. How are things going between the two of you?”
“What- Who told you there was something going on there?” Isabelle asked innocently, although her flushed cheeks betrayed her more than anything. “Was it Alec? Because you really shouldn’t trust everything he tells you, even if the two of you are dating and smitten and all of that.”
“Actually, Clary might have let something slip about a potential first date,” Magnus lied – he had heard about it from Alec. But Alec had heard about it from Clary, so he supposed it was close enough to the truth and less likely to freak Isabelle out. “Not that I’m surprised, since there were literal sparks flying between the two of you when you dropped by my office the other week. I’m glad you figured things out.”
“There’s no telling if this is going to work,” Isabelle mumbled. “I mean, we’re- she’s- there’s a lot of history between us, and I’m a little worried that things aren’t going to work because of it. But don’t you worry your pretty face over my love life; you have your own thing going on with my brother, and I hear it’s going quite well.”
“Yeah,” Magnus smiled softly, thinking about how good his second date with Alec had been. “Yeah, it is. By the way, can I say I’m impressed at how involved your brother is in all of this? I’ve talked to him about it a few times, but it’s rare to see a CEO actually participate in events like this one with such passion and interest. It makes him even more attractive.”
“First of all, please don’t talk about how attractive you find my brother when you have that hungry look on your face,” Isabelle grimaced. “And secondly, he just really cares about this place, and he wants to do right by Clary. Since her secret partner wants to remain secret, she needs someone else to help her out, and Alec jumped on the opportunity to spend more time with his best friend.”
“He still intimidates the hell out of me,” Andrew cut in, blushing lightly when Isabelle and Magnus turned to stare at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the two of you were talking right in front of us, so…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Magnus grinned. “So, Alexander intimidates you, does he?”
“He’s achieved a lot for someone so young,” Andrew shrugged, glancing over at Emily and smiling when the girl nodded along to his words. “It’s impressive, and I feel like he’s miles ahead of us even though we’re all around the same age.”
“Don’t let his fancy façade fool you,” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Alec is great, and I’m very proud of him for taking care of this company so well, but he’s just another guy. He gets nervous before dates, struggles to dress himself in the morning, and keeps his dark secrets hidden deep in the recesses of his mind.”
“And he cries, just like the rest of us,” Meliorn added, raising his voice and winking at Alec when the man narrowed his eyes at their little group. “Nothing to be intimidated by.”
Before Andrew or Emily could get another word in, someone across the room cleared their voice loudly, waving at Clary as she jumped on top of a desk and clapped her hands once, grinning at the gathered crowd. The manic look she had sported earlier had dimmed a little, and she looked a lot more like the designer Magnus had gotten to know over the past month or so.
“Right, everyone! Thank you all for showing up on time,” she started. “I know this time of the year is always a little overwhelming for everyone involved, but I appreciate everyone who made this easier on us by doing what they were told. As you all know, our wonderful Raphael Santiago is holding the first photoshoot of the year today with our ten selected models, and we need this to go as smoothly as possible!”
As she went over the schedule for the day, repeating things Magnus had already been told ten times in the last hour, the journalist tuned her out. Alexander had just stepped back into his line of sight, and Magnus took a moment to appreciate how good he looked.
The one thing he hated about dating Alec was how busy they both were. They worked in the same building, had enough friends in common that they should have been able to go out as a group, and even had to work together with the fashion team. And yet, outside of their two dates, Magnus had only managed to see the other man three times. It was torturous, and it made moments like these even harder for Magnus.
His boyfriend – because that was what he was, as of four days earlier – was right there, close enough that Magnus would only have to take a few steps forward to be by his side, but they hadn’t even talked once today. He didn’t blame Alexander, of course, but it made him wish he didn’t have to handle all the paperwork that came with being Head Editor, and that Alec wasn’t so good at his job.
For once in his life he had something great, something worth keeping, and he somehow managed to see Alec less than he had seen Lorenzo back when he worked at Fade Media.
“You look like you’re about to either murder him or jump him,” Aline whispered directly into his ear, startling Magnus into almost knocking a mannequin over. “Someone’s jumpy. So, are things not going well between Alec and you?”
“Things are going wonderfully,” Magnus hissed back at the woman. The two of them hadn’t talked much, but she was apparently a close friend of Alec’s, and Magnus wasn’t opposed to getting to know her some more. “We call each other every night, and we try to see each other as often as possible, but it’s just…”
“It’s just that you’re both workaholics with about zero free time on your hands?” Aline chuckled. “Yeah, Alec’s been complaining about the same thing. And look, I’m no dating expert, but I’ve been in a pretty good relationship for the past few years, and I’m pretty sure talking to Alec would solve almost all your issues.”
“We don’t have issues,” Magnus rolled his eyes. They didn’t, not really, but the pace at which they were going was a lot slower than what Magnus had anticipated. “But you may have a point. Now, I think Clary is going to talk about the collection, and I really don’t want to miss this.”
He had been waiting to get a preview of the collection ever since he had been hired – maybe even before that – and all thoughts of Alexander flew out of his mind as soon as Clary brought out the few outfits that were ready to be worn.
When the team had announced that the collection would be different, Magnus had been both surprised and a little apprehensive. He had always been one for trying new things, but he hadn’t been sure why Clary and her partner had decided to change something that was working so well already. Now, though…
Looking at the few colourful pieces Clary was smiling at proudly, he realised they knew exactly what they were doing.
There were ten outfits on display, one for each of the models, and Magnus immediately knew which one was meant for him. The loose, long-sleeved blue, green, and gold shirt shimmered in the sunlight, matching the black slack pants. The pants were lined in colourful threads that were visible just under the surface perfectly complimenting the top. Magnus couldn’t keep his eyes off it.
Next to him, Isabelle was staring at the matching peacock-looking dress with awe in her eyes, and Magnus squeezed her hand in a silent show of comradery. Alec had once told him that Clary was the one who took care of the women’s line, and he wondered if Isabelle realised every dress was probably Clary’s way of declaring her love to the brunette.
“They’re stunning,” Diana breathed out, eyeing her own purple and blue gown with something like admiration in her eyes.
“We have a total of five photoshoots planned,” Clary drew everyone’s attention back to herself. “Three for high fashion, and two for slightly more casual wear. We’ll be alternating, so don’t expect all of our clothes to look like this. We know the colours are a little more prominent than usual, but rest assured that the darker and subtler shades will be coming soon. We just wanted to get the more extravagant clothes out of the way first, although some of them will have to wait a while longer. Anyways, you can come to me if you have any questions about what you’ll be wearing. Raphael, be in the studio in 5; Helen, check over the models one last time just to make sure the measurements are fine; models, we’ll be starting with Meliorn and Kaelie; everyone else, you know what you’re doing!”
Magnus could only blink as the entire floor was set into motion once more. He didn’t even protest as he was pushed towards his outfit, too busy staring at it greedily to think about the way he was being manhandled.
As he slipped the clothes on, he was suddenly struck by the fact that he had done it. He was a model for Lightwood Fashions, wearing an outfit created by his favourite designers and feeling lighter than he ever had when he worked under Lorenzo.
His fingers trembled as he smoothed over his shirt, the golden tones standing out starkly against the blue and greens every time he moved. Just as he was starting to doubt what he was doing, wondering if he would ever be good enough to wear LF clothes for a photoshoot, a pair of warm hands settled around his waist.
“Hey there,” Alec smiled at him, twisting Magnus around and kissing his cheek in greeting. “You look beautiful. You also look a little nervous, so I thought I’d try to- Well, I thought I’d come and see if there’s anything I can do to help. I know the first photoshoot is always the most nerve-wrecking, but you’re going to be amazing. I’ve never met anyone who’s as suited for this job as you are.”
“I heard that!” Isabelle exclaimed, glaring at her brother from her position a few feet away.
“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus said warmly, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch. “Shouldn’t you be in there, cheering Kaelie and Meliorn on or making sure everything is going smoothly or something?”
“Raphael handles that,” Alec snorted. “I love the man, but he can be downright vicious when someone gets in his way during a shoot. I hope you’re ready to meet the dark side of your friend, because photographer Raphael is really something else.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Magnus asked, laughing when Alec shrugged unrepentantly. “Thank you for the warning, darling. So, what do you think of the collection? I’m assuming Clary showed it to you before, and I know you said you were excited, but do you really think this is going to be the best collection yet?”
“I hope so,” Alec answered. “And I think the collection is… nice. I mean, I saw Clary and her partner slave over it, so I always assumed it was going to be great. However, nothing quite beats seeing the outfits directly on the models, especially when the designers had someone in mind all along.”
“Ah yes, Isabelle,” Magnus grinned.
“What do- Oh, yeah, yeah, Isabelle,” Alec stammered, looking over at his sister and rolling his eyes as the young woman twirled around in her dress, laughing delightedly when the light reflected off the gold just as it did on Magnus’ shirt. “Yeah, Clary really outdid herself. Although really, her favourite ones are always the red outfits. That’s when she goes all out to make sure Isabelle looks perfect.”
“Why the peacock colours, then?” Magnus inquired curiously. “If she prefers Isabelle in red…”
“Well, she does have a partner,” Alec pointed out, chuckling when Magnus turned to stare at him innocently. “Nice try, but you’re not getting anything out of me, especially not today. We need everything to go perfectly, and that won’t happen if you’re pestering me for information on her secret partner or if you’re gushing about finally solving the mystery of their identity.”
“I thought you were here to distract me from the impending photoshoot,” Magnus sighed. “You know, I’m going to get their name out of you eventually, even if it takes me months.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Alec huffed, his gaze both fond and a little nervous. “But until then, your only job is to look pretty for the cameras, make sure Raphael doesn’t rip you apart with his words, and have amazing chemistry with my little sister. Seriously though, you look beautiful, and I’m sure you’re going to be perfect in there.”
“Thank y-”
“Magnus, Isabelle, get in here now!” Raphael yelled from his studio door, smiling brittlely at Kaelie and Meliorn as they stepped out of the room. “We don’t have all day!”
Magnus sent a panicked look in Alexander’s direction but his boyfriend was grinning at him mischievously and gently pushing him towards Raphael, so he grumbled and grabbed Isabelle’s arm as he headed for the studio.
The last thing he heard before Raphael shut the door behind them was Alec’s wicked laughter.
***
“You’re not welcome on this side of the booth, Santiago!” Magnus exclaimed as his friend moved towards them, drinks in hand. “Seriously, you can be Cat’s responsibility tonight; I don’t even want to look at you. You should take that time to think about everything you’ve done wrong.”
“It’s my job, Magnus,” Raphael rolled his eyes, although he dutifully took the spot next to Catarina instead of his usual seat next to Magnus. “I’m sorry I had to snap at you a little bit, but you’re a beginner model and there was no way we were going to get things done on time if I had been your friend rather than your photographer. Besides, Isabelle found it hilarious.”
“Of course she did,” Magnus huffed. “She wasn’t the one being reprimanded every time she so much as tilted her head the wrong way. Be honest, were you being harder on me because you’re my friend, or were you just being your usual delightful self?”
“I was harder on you because Isabelle is a better model,” Raphael drawled, smirking when Magnus glared at him viciously. “Look, Magnus, you’re a handsome guy and the pictures turned out great, but you needed a little guidance and that’s what I’m there to do.”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” Catarina nodded sagely, high-fiving Raphael underneath the table and ignoring Magnus’ disgruntled scoff. “Oh, cheer up, Mags! You’re going to be on the front cover of your own magazine, and everyone is going to adore you. So what if Raphael was a little harsh with you? It’s not like you weren’t expecting it.”
Sometimes, Magnus really hated having a friend who was always right. He had been warned repeatedly about Raphael’s behaviour in the studio; both my Raphael himself and by the fashion team. It was his fault for thinking that being friends with the man would grant him immunity or something of the sort.
“Those photos had better be perfect, Santiago,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his drink and letting the alcohol burn down his throat pleasantly. “And has anyone heard from Ragnor? I swear that cabbage arrives late on purpose.”
“He likes his dramatic entrances,” Catarina shrugged. “Besides, you know he’s busy with work; he’s probably just stuck in traffic somewhere on the other side of town. We might as well enjoy our last moments of peace before he comes in and starts talking our ears off with work-talk.”
“I though we banned work-talk from the table,” Magnus frowned. They had had this exact conversation at least twenty times in the past year, and the result was always the same; they would follow the rules for a few weeks, forget about the rule, and get into an argument about their jobs before reinstating the rather smart rule.
“And you already broke it once tonight,” Cat pointed out, staring between him and Raphael exasperatedly. “I’ll even let you start your fight up again at some point if you let Ragnor bitch about his colleagues for a little while. He doesn’t get out of the office enough, and you know he gets all offended when we tell him to stop talking about work, so…”
“Fine,” Raphael mumbled. “But don’t you dare complain when he starts going on a rant about Dot, because you brought this upon yourself.”
“I won’t say a word,” Catarina zipped her mouth shut. “And on that note, how about we stop talking about your photoshoot and start discussing something a little more important. Say… Your goddaughter, for example. It’s been two and a half weeks Magnus.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Magnus winced. He had been meaning to get better now that he had a new job, but he had greatly overestimated his scheduling abilities. “I’m trying to get more free time, but everything is crazy at wo-”
“I know,” Cat cut him off. “You’ve told me about it at least thirty times this week, mostly when you were complaining about not being able to see your pretty boy as much as you want to. But, as you should also know by now, Madzie can only take the work excuse for so long before she starts thinking that you’re deliberately blowing us off. She misses you, Magnus.”
“I miss her too,” he sighed.
As much as Magnus wanted to promise her that he would do better, that he would find the time to see Madzie during the week and make it up to her… he couldn’t. He barely had the time to sleep now that the spring collection was well underway and the models were solicited at every corner. On top of that, the media team had to cover the articles relating to the fashion team’s progress, which meant even more work for him.
Magnus was only awake thanks to copious amounts of coffee and the reminder that he had chosen this for himself. He had been the one to decide to take the Head Editor position on top of the modelling one – hell, he was the one who had pushed for it – and he knew he couldn’t screw either of them up, not even for Madzie. Maybe that made him a bad godfather, but he was truly trying his best.
“What am I supposed to tell her, Magnus?” Catarina shook her head at him sadly. “When you worked for Fade Media, I could at least make her feel better by telling her that you would much rather be with her than working for that lizard, but now… Now you’re happy, you’re thriving, and you’re doing it without her. I get that you love your new job, and I couldn’t be more delighted for you, but Madzie needs you. Please, just a few hours sometime in the upcoming week. It doesn’t even have to be half a day.”
Magnus opened his mouth to tell her this week really wasn’t the greatest time, but then a thought hit him. He hadn’t exactly been hiding Alexander from his friends; they knew he was dating the young CEO and had all asked him plenty of invasive question, but he also hadn’t introduced them to him.
It mostly had to do with how busy Alec was, even more so than Magnus, but he also hadn’t been sure that introducing Catarina and Alexander to each other was a good idea. They were terrifyingly similar at times, and Magnus wasn’t sure he would be able to survive a combined onslaught from two of his favourite people in the world.
However, Catarina had a point; he needed to spend time with Madzie. On the other hand, he also needed to spent time with Alexander, and his wonderful boyfriend had managed to get them both some time off for a date that week. They hadn’t decided on anything quite yet, which meant…
“Alec and I could spend some time with her on Thursday,” he blurted out, grimacing at the incredulous stare Raphael sent his way. “We have a few hours off work thanks to Alec’s connections to the CEO – and by CEO I mean his mother, not him – and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to take more, so… I know you haven’t met him yet, but he’s a great guy.”
“He really is,” Raphael added, somehow sounding both genuine and like it was the last thing he had wanted to say out loud. “Lightwood is a trustworthy guy, and he’s great with kids. I’m sure Madzie would love him.”
“You’re sure Madzie would love who?”
Magnus perked up unconsciously at the sound of Ragnor’s voice. It had been far too long since he had last seen his oldest friend, and he hadn’t realised how much he had missed the man until he slid into the seat next to Magnus and ruffled his hair fondly.
No matter how much he hated the way Ragnor still tended to treat him like a child, he had to admit there was something reassuring in how familiar the gesture was. After having dealt with new experiences and new people non-stop for the past month, it was nice to be surrounded by the people he loved most, spending a night in the same bar they had frequented since they were 21 and barely old enough to drink.
“We were talking about Magnus’ new boyfriend,” Catarina grinned. “And how he’s apparently great with kids. Although that’s according to Raphael, so who knows how true that piece of information is.”
“Ah yes, the infamous Alexander Lightwood,” Ragnor hummed, making Magnus turn towards his two other friends with betrayal written all over his face. “Were they not meant to tell me? Were you going to keep him a secret from your oldest friend? You wound me, Magnus.”
“I wanted to tell you myself,” he said, punctuating his words with a sharp glare towards Raphael and Catarina. “Which one of you caved first? Or did you not even try to keep it a secret? You know, I do occasionally like talking to Ragnor about important things in my life without having someone else blurt the whole thing out unashamedly.”
Really, it was no secret that Catarina was the one who had told Ragnor about Magnus’ relationship, but they all liked to maintain a semblance of surprise when the woman cracked and apologised for her actions. Her inability to lie and hide things was her biggest flaw, and Magnus should have known better than to trust her with something like his boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” she exclaimed less than a minute later, batting her eyelashes at Magnus apologetically. “I know I should have let you have your moment, but I mean Alexander Lightwood. There aren’t a lot of people out there who could rival you in charm and beauty, but Lightwood is definitely right up there on the list. Besides, I didn’t know how long it would be until we saw Ragnor again, and I didn’t think it was fair to keep him in the dark.”
“Ragnor, my sweet cabbage, would it have hurt your feelings if you had only found out about Alexander tonight?” Magnus asked, crossing his arms over his chest and not looking away from Catarina as their friend answered in the negative. “And this, Catarina, is why I won’t tell you about my proposal beforehand. At least when I break news, I do it in a fantastic way. I bet you told Ragnor over the phone.”
“She told me over the phone,” Ragnor confirmed, winking at Catarina when she grumbled at him mutinously. “But for what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. I’ll want to meet this young millionaire soon, but Catarina seems to think he brings you joy, so congratulations on finally finding your soulmate.”
“He’s not my- I mean, there’s no telling yet if he’s the right one for me,” Magnus said as nonchalantly as possible, even though his heart was beating wildly at the thought of spending the rest of his life with Alexander. “We’ve only been on two dates, and we’re taking things slow, and we still have plenty of time before we talk about the future of our relationship.”
“You’re taking things slow?” Raphael’s eyebrows flew up as he spoke. “You and Alec are two of the most impatient people I have ever met; how on earth are you taking things slow? The guy’s such a romantic, I thought he would have already asked you to move in by now. Besides, don’t you see each other every day at work?”
“Not every day,” Magnus shrugged, trying – and failing – to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “Sometimes it feels like fate is mocking us. It put this perfect man right in front of me, a man who actually likes me back, and now it keeps putting obstacles in our path and making it impossible for us to meet up.”
“And by fate, I’m sure you mean the LF Spring Collection,” Raphael snorted. “The company is never busier than in the two months leading up to a release. It’s like clockwork, really. January, April, July, and October are the emptiest months of the year. The fashion team works on designs, but other than that events are pretty rare. February, May, August, and November are on the complete opposite side of the spectrum; the collection is in the works, the designers are trying to finish it on time, the entire team is busy setting things up for the release… A nightmare, I tell you. And the release months are usually a nice in between. So just wait another month and you’ll have Alec all to yourself.”
“There’s no way I’m signing up to be a model for the summer collection,” Magnus groaned. “Alec can turn his hopeful eyes on me all he wants, but I’m not putting myself through that two times in a row. He’ll have to find himself another model to pose with Isabelle.”
“If you don’t want to do it again, he won’t push,” Raphael pointed out smartly. “You know he would never force anyone to do something they don’t like.”
“Sounds like a good guy,” Ragnor piped up, smiling fondly at Magnus and Raphael. “I’m glad the two of you have him in your life, although I wish you would have introduced him to us earlier, Raphael, then maybe Magnus could have been happy years ago.”
“But he would have ruined their perfect fairy tale meeting,” Catarina smirked. “I mean, Magnus did some very dubious things to get to where he is right now, but he’s modelling for Alec’s company and basically running the entire Lightwood media team. That probably wouldn’t have happened if Raphael had dragged him along to a work event when he first started out as the Lightwoods’ photographer.”
“Dubious things…?”
“We don’t need to talk about that,” Magnus chuckled nervously as matching devious glints entered Raphael and Catarina’s eyes. “Really, we should talk about something else, like why Alexander and I are taking things slow and what I can do to make things move along just a little bit faster.”
“Talk to him,” Raphael deadpanned. “Problem solved.”
“Kiss him,” Catarina added. “Wait, you have kissed him, right?”
“Who do you take me for, Cat? Of course I’ve kissed him.” Magnus huffed, deflating when his best friend only stared at him, unconvinced.. “Alright fine, so what if I didn’t kiss him? We’re taking things slow! I was going to kiss him after our first date, but it didn’t seem right. Besides, what do you want me to do? Make out with him in front of all his colleagues? That’s a terrible idea, and it’s not happening. What if we get carried away?”
“And what if you do?” Ragnor snorted. “It’s not like you’ve ever been against trying new things. God, imagine the possibilities… In his office, in your office, in the elevator, in the closet or wherever else they keep the clothes, in Raphael’s studio-”
“Absolutely not,” Raphael cut the older man off. “Don’t even think about it, Bane. There are cameras in there, and I will know if you snuck inside to have sex with my boss. Now, as riveting as this conversation about your painfully non-existent sex life is, I really think Ragnor should get the full story of how you obtained your job as Lightwood Media’s Head Editor.”
“We really don’t need to-”
“Oh no, please, I want to hear this,” Ragnor smiled wickedly, leaning back in his seat and gesturing for Raphael to go on.
Magnus groaned loudly and slammed his head onto the table, wondering if there was even a chance that his friends would ever forget about this particularly unbrilliant idea. If the way Catarina was already laughing silently was anything to go by, he didn’t think so.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fictober prompts - 13 “I never knew it could be this way.” and 16 “Listen. No, really listen.”
fandom- check please
Part 9 of the SpookydooAU
Will was pretty sure he had let more people in this week than he had the entire last few years combined.
But as he sat, warm slice pizza in hand, surrounded by excited people, tinny music playing from a phone speaker in the background - atmospheric mood setting dude! - he just couldn't bring himself to regret it.
This wasn't casserole he’d never eat, because unlike his ma, they didn't know how much he hated broccoli.
This wasn't cries of ’you poor dear’ with too many looks of concern.
This wasn't suffocating under someone else’s pity. Or worse being told he’d be better off elsewhere.
This was...Well, it was nice.
A little busy, a lot loud, but nice.
He’d been leaning against the counter, just listening on the sidelines, for the better part of two slices when he felt a nudge to his arm. Nursey. ”Hmm?”
”You okay?” Nursey asked, concerned. ”I know we can be a lot, and, um, you haven't said anything in a while?”
”No, oh I mean yeah. I'm fine. It's just, I never knew it could be this way?”
Confused, Nursey asked, ”What could be which way?”
”People here. Feels right,” Will answered, glancing around at everyone again with a small smile. ”Comfortable. It's unexpected. I like it.”
”Usually quiet, way out here?”
Will nodded. Not wanting to point out that the main reason it was quiet was because he’d chased off nearly everyone left around. ”Been some years.”
”Maybe we showed up at the right time.”
”Maybe so.” Will allowed.
”Look, it’s good to be friendly.” Nursey pointed at his plate, ”Sometimes you even get pizza.”
”I could order my own pizza, you know. Have done. Many times.”
”Ah, perhaps, but you're forgetting one thing. It’s a proven fact, free food tastes better.”
”You have me there. That must be what it is. The free pizza.”
”Life-changing.”
”Yeah, it is.” Will replied, not just thinking about the pizza.
Deciding that following that train of thought was probably not the best idea, Will decided to get everyone’s attention and do what they were there for.
Or try to get their attention.
Throat clearing and talking weren't cutting through the noise of all the separate conversations, and even hand waving was useless. He really didn't want to shout, but - Will looked helplessly over to Nursey, who snapped in the direction of Holster. He nodded and put his fingers in his mouth, letting out a truly ear-piercing whistle.
Suddenly the room was silent, and, with a small bow in his direction, Holster said, ”The floor is yours, Dex.”
Here goes nothing, Will told himself. He was not so great at this much undivided attention. Not at all. But someone had to start the ball rolling, right?
”So, uh, maybe tell me what you know so far?” Will asked the group, but directed mostly towards Jack who seemed the most research-minded with his notebook and love of history and all. ”You know, about the ghost, the history, questions you're trying to answer?”
Shitty spoke up, ”We’ve got some basics, but not much.”
”And there’s conflicting info all through,” added Lardo.
Jack said, nodding, ”It’s been frustrating, trying to sort the truth from rumor.”
”Part of the problem is because the paper of the time was little better than a rundown of the village gossip. Fine line between rumor and news.” Will told them. ”Then you add in all the other similar stories over the years. Not just here, but all over the coast, and eventually every legend becomes a mish-mash of a dozen others.”
”And New England isn't exactly hurting for ghost stories, ” Shitty pointed out.
”Exactly,” Will agreed. ”Hoping to clear up what I can for you, but, honestly, there's some things we'll probably ever know.”
Jack opened up his notebook to start the rundown, ”Okay, facts the sources all agree on. The ghost is likely that of a lady named Louise Maine. Out of towner. Rented a room at the local inn. Disappeared her first night, found somewhere between the next day and a week after? That part varies.”
”Some people don't think that was her real name, but that's what she gave at the inn. Yeah, she was from away. This place was even smaller back then, and even tourists tended to be families repeating visits yearly. Her being a complete unknown meant she stood out. She was missing for 5 days. That's one of the few things actually in a report, but, for some reason, people still get it wrong.”
”Why do they think her name was fake?” Ransom asked.
Bitty answered, ”because after she was gone, they had notices out everywhere about her. Trying to find kin? And no word came back.”
Will nodded. ”Contacted police as far away as New York even.”
”So if she had people they never knew where she went or what happened?” Holster asked.
”Nope. Some people think maybe she didn't have anyone left,”
”Why?”
”Everyone described her black clothes, and that's all she left behind in the room too. Some took it as a sign she was in mourning.”
Random said, ”Either way...that’s so sad.” Holster nodded in agreement.
Will himself agreed. The fact she was unclaimed, no one noticing her absence, at the end had always been the saddest part of the story to him. ”I don't think you'll find a ghost story without a deep tragedy at the root, and this one has potential for a few”
”What about the stories that say she was on the run?” Chowder asked.
”Or running booze?” Farmer chimed in.
”No, or at least it didn't seem like it? I never bought those ones anyhow. By all reports, she seemed quite reputable. ’A real lady’ most people said. Didn't seem anxious or suspicious, which you'd expect if she was doing either. Really, the only odd parts about her visit were that it was her first time in town and her being there on her own. There were people who didn't like her being escortless. I think the reports saying she was up to something, or hiding from someone, probably came from some guy judging her, a single woman traveling on her own-”
”Why wasn't she home taking care of a family or with her own blah blah,” Shitty rolled his eyes.
”Basic bullshit.” Will confirmed.
”Fuck the patriarchy!” came a yell from Farmer.
Quickly followed by, ”Damn right!” from Lardo.
”You’ll get no argument from me!” Will put his hands up. ”Then when she said she was headed out to the shore and refused to let anyone accompany her that would have upset them even more. The only thing I'll say in their defense, is that it is a dark and dangerous road. Not that going off with a stranger would have been necessarily safe either, obviously, but her not knowing the area and if the fog had come up? It would have been dangerous. The shore road would have been the longest part of making her way to the harbor, and,” adding with an air quote, ”where there are the most ’sightings’ even today.”
Chowder said, excited, ”I think we saw someone on the road going back last night! Maybe it was her!!!???”
Will shook his head, ”Nah. Probably saw my neighbor, she lives just offshore across the way. Walks that damned road after dark all the time. Insomnia, or something,” he said with a shrug. With a frown, he continued, ”I’ve tried to warn her it isn’t safe. It wouldn’t be the first accident there, but what can you do? People have been ignoring that advice for more years than I've been alive. Clearly.”
“Well, if she’s always walking that way, has she seen things?” Nursey asked. Adding hopefully, “Maybe we can talk to her?”
”Talked to her yesterday, and she said she wouldn't be around, but,” Will continued quickly, after seeing the disappointment in Nursey’s face, ”she did give permission for you guys to explore the land. Beach frontage, outside the house. No breaking and entering though! I promised I'd keep an eye over.”
Will looked across the room to see Bitty pointing to the notes questioningly and whispering while Jack tried to both shoo and hush him. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but there seemed to be some sort of debate going on. ”Whatever it is, you might as well ask,” he told Jack.
”I don't want to-” Jack started nervously, looking to Bitty who motioned him to continue. ”I’m not saying, I mean, I don't think-” he paused before continuing, all in one breath, ”There was this one book. It said the lighthouse keeper was a suspect. And I'm not saying I think he did! But do you know why they would say that? Was it just because she washed up into the harbor? I don't mean to say I believe your relative would-”
Will held up a hand, interrupting him ”Jack, breathe.”
Jack mumbled down at the table, ”Sorry Dex, but I didn't want you to think we were blaming your family, or disrespecting you in your own house, or-”
”It’s fine. I know you aren't.” Will pointed out, ”Do you really think I’d be shy about booting your asses out if I believed that for a minute?”
Looking relieved that he actually hadn't upset him, Jack smiled, ”No. You don't seem to have a problem doing that...sticking to it maybe.”
”Usually not, but first time for everything so I guess you've got me there. One thing though,” Will asked, ”That wasn't even a widely published theory. As far as I knew, it only made it into one true mystery collection book and that was decades ago. Where did you even find it?”
Jack shrugged, ”I go to a lot of libraries.”
Chowder threw a napkin at him and said, laughing, ”Yeah you do!”
The whole group joined in the laughter, which made Will feel...not great? Already a little on edge, feeling left out of the joke almost felt as bad as being the brunt of it. Was he? He could feel himself getting defensive as he asked, ”What? I don't get it.”
”Had to do something other than take weird pictures.” Lardo explained. Sort of.
”What now? So you have a photography thing?” Will asked Jack.
”No, well yes, but not this.” came Jack’s half explanation.
Bitty cleared things up much better, saying, ”Jack and Chowder both travel a lot for work. Couple years back they got into a competition for who could take the most pics of Nursey’s books in different places. Airports, bookstores, libraries.”
Will turned to Nursey, ”You're an author?”
”Kind of.”
”’Kind of’, he says,” scoffed Ransom.
Will wondered if he should have made them promise not to write a book about this. There were enough versions out there already, and he really didn't want to see more. Drawing extra attention. Especially if he was letting them in on things, what if more people showed up on his door. He thought this was a hobby thing. Shit. What had he gotten himself into- ”You won't...this isn't...you not planning to write a book about all of this are you?”
”Nah, I wouldn't. First off, I’m not that big a deal. Not that anyone would read anything from me to do with this. History, fiction or otherwise. I'm more a poetry guy. Second, even if I did that kind of writing, which I don’t, clearly you value your privacy. I wouldn't do something like that, especially without talking to you first.”
”Thank you,” Will let out his breath, relieved. ”Hold on. You say you're not a big deal, but you must be good to have your book all over though...Are you famous?”
”Mildly? I guess? I mean, I won some awards or whatever.” Nursey answered, flustered.
Teasingly, Will asked the others, ”What's it like having a famous friend?”
They all looked around at each other before Shitty answered, ”It sure is...something.”
”Well, if I realized I was in the presence of a celebrity, I would have done something special. I don't know, pulled out actual plates or something” he smirked and tossed a crumpled up paper plate at Nursey.
That got some laughs all around, but if it came a little strained from between Jack and Chowder Will didn't notice. He also didn’t notice Bitty patting Jack’s arm.
”Okay, anyway, back to your questions Jack,” Will continued, ”There’s no way Great Grandfather would have been responsible. Definitely not. He was the nicest- he just wouldn't. If there was any talk about him being involved at all, and I didn't think there was much of that either, it could have been because some thought he should have been the last to see her. What I always heard, was that he’d gone in from the house to meet a friend at the inn for a drink. Got there not long after she’d left, and heard people talking about her. Asked if he’d seen her on his way in. He hadn't and should have gone right past her, if she headed to the harbor like she said she was going to. Agreeing that she shouldn’t have set off that way on her own so late, he decided to leave right then and keep his eyes out on the way back. Still, he made it all the way back here without seeing a single sign of her. Great grandmother thought maybe she'd seen some lights on the far shore, but couldn't say for sure. The next morning the search really started, but still nothing. They saw her footprints leading from the brush into the sand. GreatGrandfather really had walked right past her, they assumed she must have hidden for some reason. Maybe she was startled by a stranger calling out to her? Less than a week later her body washed up to a rock ledge at the cliff base and she was spotted.
”Was she murdered or, well, how did she die?” Farmer asked, biting her lip.
”Uh, that's the tough one,” Will admitted. ” There are as many theories as there people telling the story. With no one to claim her or to demand follow up, there was barely an official report, no autopsy. Once they gave up trying to track down her people that was the end of all investigation. I've heard just about everything. Only thing agreed on was that when she washed up her hands were tied and weighed down. No obvious cause of death, other than assumed drowning. But why or how and who else, if anyone, was there? No one can say. Complete mystery.”
Lardo asked, ”Where is she buried? Because we searched that whole cemetery and couldn't find her stone.”
”You wouldn't have,” Will answered.
”Isn’t she there? That was the cemetery we read about.”
”She is buried there, but it's not marked,” Will clarified. ”She’s right in front of the tree grove off on the side.”
”You couldn't have told us that? We looked for hours!”
”I mean, I could have. But then I didn't? Not my fault you only asked for help getting there.” Will smirked.
”You, Dex, are a bit of an asshole.” Nursey said, surprised.
”Yep.”
”I like it,” Nursey admitted, and they clinked glasses in a mock toast.
Bitty spoke up, ”If y’all are done, it’s getting late, so what’s the plan?”
”I think we need to split up and pick spots to check out,” Shitty suggested.
”Split up? Are you sure we want to do that?” Ransom worried. ”Every movie and show I have ever watched says that's how people end up missing in the first place!”
”But we only have so long, and we're already behind!” Shitty argued.
”Hey Rans, what if you and I take here?” Holster offered. ”I know the lighthouse isn't likely spot for the ghost since she probably didn't make it out this far, but just in case? Someone should hang back and check it out.”
”I'll leave the house open just in case you strike out and don't want to freeze out there all night. Gets cold on the rocks.” Will offered.
”Me and you?” Ransom asked Holster. ”Okay, sounds good.”
”So that leaves the cemetery, the shore road, and the beach,” Will went down the list.
”Lards and I can take the cemetery, ” Shitty offered.
”If you tell us where we're looking this time,” Lardo qualified. ”Like, I want a map, drawing, something dude. Not just ’under some trees’. There's a whole forest around there.”
”She’s off to the right, under the largest tree. There's a pile of stones right over,” Will told her. ”I’ll draw a diagram or something though. And I'd really feel better if I was at the beach and around there. It's just that my friend’s house is there, and I did promise to watch out for it and-”
Nursey spoke up, ”Sure, that sounds like a good idea. Alright if I go with you?”
”Why not. Best that no one is on their own anyway. Try not to fall in the ocean this time though.” Will said, with a laugh and a shit-eating grin directed at Nursey’s narrowed eyes and shaking head.
”That leaves the rest of us on the shore road then.” Jack said, ”I actually do have a ‘photography thing’ and I kind of wanted to take some shots of the road in the fog before we left anyway.”
“So the four of you can cover that?” Will asked Jack, Bitty, Farmer, and Chowder. It was better than someone going alone, but still, he worried. When they agreed, he told them, extremely serious, ”Now listen. No, really listen. Stick together, and make sure one of you keeps watch for traffic the whole time. Cars come out of nowhere with all the sharp bends and you can’t count on them seeing you.” He looked at what they were wearing, and, other than Jack’s shoes, none of it was all that great for visibility. ”Let me see if I have some coats or vests for you to borrow. You'll need something reflective, I have some stuff in my gear that might work. Some flashing tags, at the very least.”
”We have a few lanterns too,” Bitty told him.
”Make sure you use them, bring spare batteries too. Can't be too safe.”
”We’ll be careful,” Jack assured Will.
Plans made, Will went to dig through his spare gear to see what things he had that might work. He left his phone to be passed around and everyone entered in their numbers. Chowder also downloaded a walkie-talkie app and added him to their group in there as well. Between that and getting ready, they had all pitched in and had tidied up the kitchen by the time he came back in.
With everyone geared up the best he could manage, Will asked, ”I guess we’re ready to go then?”
--
Back when I was still insisting to @rhysiana that I was not going to write a fic about lighthouse keeper Dex – like a liar - I picked a picture of a lighthouse that would have been perfect for him anyway. Hendricks Head. Privately owned by a family, loads of warnings not to trespass, private people. And that lighthouse, of course, had a ghost story attached. I fell down the research rabbit hole, and then this happened. I've, obviously, taken A Lot of liberties with it (and will continue to) but that's where I started. The disappearance does make for a pretty interesting story, but, imho and with apologies to Dex, it really doesn't look so great for the lighthouse keeper.
Who, funnily enough for me connecting it to Check Please, was named Knight.
#fictober19#omgcp#spookydoo au#nurseydex#gangs all here#double length = double prompt#I am honestly surprised how I've managed to shoehorn in a prompt every chapter
15 notes
·
View notes
Photo
New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/ascension-navigation-for-2020/
Ascension Navigation for 2020
Ascension Navigation for 2020
By A Gift From Gaia
The Beginning…..
We are here, a time and space that we have been talking and preparing for consciously for at least a couple of years; and yet from the higher Eye view we know that we have been in preparation from the moment we were birthed.
2020 comes around and presents itself as something that’s way too big to explain, simply because there is not one human on this planet who knows how this moves exactly. The main events to this year are highlighted in the planets and are showing us something that hasn’t been seen on Earth certainly not for at least 500 years but even then, whilst that era or wave was incredibly transformative what we have available now has the potential to shift us into realities that we could only now describe as alien.
There is no doubt we are from this point on taking a momentous quantum leap.
We have no reference points in which to create stories around the energy. What we do know is we are now beginning to rise on the tsunami of change. We know that our world is about to shift in a very big way and we have been learning to release the attachments and expectations as to how this will look. That’s one very interesting shift that we have nowadays in comparison to how it was say 500 years ago. The ability to prophesise the details is so close to impossible, nothing works the way it once did or as our great ancestors got to experience . The prophesies we read today from long ago have been for a while going wayward, because what couldn’t have been understood then was the expansion into the Quantum wisdom, the ability to form the future from our core frequency and with this we now hold a super power of changing outcomes.
Details and presentations, opportunities and experiences can completely shift the moment the vibration moves within us individually and collectively.
This shift doesn’t change the core or the theme, this will always stay the same as its’ objective is balance, it’s a wave, a sine wave that in order to understand it you will need to expand the view and the awareness so high that it’s possible to see the beginning of the sine from when we first began until now. By observing this pattern you will see that what we have created must now dissolve and make way for the new, hence why it has been progressively getting more and more unstable within the collective.
Let’s be blunt here, let’s not beat around bushes, our race will be reduced and it is an essential part of our evolution, our purification and our survival as a whole on this planet.
To really get your head around the shift I would highly encourage you to take your journey back, to reintroduce yourself to your Ancient Self, the One who existed from the beginning when our race was formed, and begin to look at the rise and fall of civilisations. From there I would encourage you to learn as much as possible about the Age of Aries, then the Age of Pisces and finally the Age of Aquarius paying particular interest to what each era held, the laws, the ways, the religions, the beliefs, then looking at the years of the transitions and the historical events that carried the change.
We are now in an incredible key position for the transition from Pisces to Aquarius, and once you have done the research you will soon come to realise that our entire belief structure and programming is all very firmly embedded in a phase now dissolving. Whilst there is much speculation as to when or if the Aquarian Age has started the point is nothing just starts and ends. It fades in and phases out just like a wave and the wave we find ourselves now surfing may feel big already. It’s never been surfed before so we cannot yet comprehend the size and each movement will feel gigantic, but let me tell you this wave has only just picked us up to begin and it is the wave taking us into the Aquarian Age.
The 4th frequency feels the most volatile as it is after all the bandwidth with the most distortion. In most streams or labels it holds the entire spiritual arena, the space in which separation is Seen and experienced and it’s the space that holds a magnificent mocktail of beliefs that have over time been mutated from the original religious roots such as angels and demons, ascended masters, saviours and gods. These are all templates now to be seen in their truth as the coded descriptions of patterns, as intended, to withstand the test of time and yet the distortion began when these codes were taken by power hungry, egocentric leaders of long ago and twisted into history for their gain in that time…..that the race has been forming its foundations upon ever since and only now beginning to see that we have taken “The words as Gospel”, the word of God distorted and preached literally.
The Book was coded, the words are symbols and behind these are the Truth, the mirror of our separation and the descriptions of the patterns were there all along, waiting for the Eye to recognise the ancient language of patterning.
Again, I encourage you to look past the Piscean Era and to see how the saviour stories repeat and when you find the path to see past the words and into the patterns, the detachment from the Piscean Era and all that you have known becomes a much smoother transition.
This is the path of the initiate, it is the illuminated path that will lead all those prepared to Be the Shift through the fields of hopelessness that are experienced when we go through such a deep deprogramming, the real eye view, a journey of Freedom….the ultimate purpose.
The days of playing around in the spiritual fields without full respect are over, it is time to get REAL as 2020 will be incredibly sobering to those still singing from the fishy song sheet. It would be fair to say you will witness those believed to be the “most enlightened” begin the Deep C Dive within in which the emotions, the judgement, the spiritual warriors, the blame, the victim and separation will spin out for all connected to experience and resolve/dissolve.
This is likely to appear quite reactive, looking through the window of social media it has been evident that many of the popular spiritual spaces are rumbling with reactivity. It is for a time a perfect learning space to understand the mirrors and distortions, the lies in the beliefs, but after time the need to experience these distorted fields reduces dramatically and through the reflections the requirement to step away gets louder until we listen, and follow the guidance to enter the depths of within, to sit in the silence and observe the fields so that we can learn, grow and re-emerge accountable.
There is a great responsibility when we declare we are of the light and this will now make itself very known.
This year is of course the kickstart to the incoming decade cycle, it holds a whole range of crucial points that are being shown in the cosmic star map and it’s headed up by Saturn who has been at home in Capricorn for the past two years. It is now we get to surf through the crescendo of this transit before he takes his dip into the energy of Aquarius in the first part of this year and then partnered with Mars to retrograde back into Capricorn and re-enter Aquarius on 21st December with a Grand Conjunction with Jupiter on Solstice, highly symbolic of how the Aquarian Age will taste. Saturn and Jupiter hand in hand at 0 degree which opens up such an incredible portal giving the purpose of the 2021 next incredible wave.
So what do we know in terms of how this will pan out?
In short, nothing will be the same. We begin the year with the Capricorn Council: Saturn, Pluto, Sun, Mercury, Jupiter, South Node, with the two Centaurs Pholus and Ceres. By the 20th of January we receive the strategic war Goddess Pallas Athena enter Capricorn whilst Sun and Mercury make their escape to begin the gathering of data required to bring some sense, some form to the paths we discovered during the depths of January.
This Council is the Master reset. On the world stage this is set to change the structure as it hits the foundations of everything we once knew to be true and trusted; albeit the trust has been dwindling for some time the ripples of unrest will begin to be seen reverberating through the fields and will be hitting the rule creators. This points towards our governments, banks and all institutions that are invested in keeping its’ audience, its people dulled down. The humble Gaians, the compliant humans have already been showing their unwillingness to be spoon fed and showing that compliance to that system is now a thing of the past. What is next to be realised is how the population has blindly allowed this control, that there is no point hating on the puppeteers, we chose the role of the “puppets” and yet we are soon to discover that we were always the “real boys” and all we’ve got to do is cut those strings. We will learn to be responsible and with this we will learn that we created this space to lose the wisdom, this is how change begins and through this we will learn that the power is always with the people.
From a decade view let’s just say the power will be very much on the light side by the close in 2029.
Knowing the deconstruction is upon us will no doubt have fear rising, this is the objective, all must be seen and please do not lose sight of the Magic this holds. We knew the fear programming was to make itself known, hence these past couple of years specifically when the word ego was on everyone’s lips. Ego, being the label for the first programming that holds judgement, blame, shame and everything that stops the process of the heart awakening.
Talking of Magic, this will be the word I use mostly as the theme for 2020. This may seem contradictory to the visualisations that might be appearing reading this report however we must understand exactly what magic is and the alchemical process it holds.
Most of us know magic to be something quite extraordinary that happens very quick, faster than the eye and the brain can digest, but from the most highest of view points and in the lowest of the dense frequencies it happens incredibly slowly and resembles something that looks a whole lot more like chaos.
Think about it for a second, imagine the Master Magician materialising something from nothing, atoms splitting, fizzing energy in creation, something appearing from nothing takes great force to create and materialise something that now holds space, and this process is no different for us. However being so physically dense this process in the beginning happens in super slow motion, allowing us to witness the secrets it holds and at first it is easy to get lost in the details without seeing the greater more expanded view. In the beginning it will appear somewhat painful, chaotic, but this is simply learning how this all works and the pain is nothing more than the resistance held.
Fully aligning to processes of transformation will continue to be a theme running well into this decade. Pluto isn’t moving out until 2024 so there is plenty more to transform, no space to rest on our laurels because this year will shake the most attached into their Divine Detachment and this will also be assisted with the incoming solar cycle 25.
The current solar minimum we are experiencing; this incredible DNA rewrite that began in the last phases of 2018 and truly made itself known in 2019 is likely to begin switching back into solar activity during this year. This will be the point in which our attention is taken outside of ourselves briefly to confirm and fully realise that the focus must remain within. Sounds backwards I know but once this starts appearing within our realities it will be far easier to explain. In a nutshell this is the activation and growth energy to the codes we are now receiving, it is the reap what we have sewn energy as we get to live out and ride the experiences chosen through the frequency we reach during each solar minimum which occurs approximately every 11 years. The shifts outside are likely to be HUGE bringing more confirmation that to surf this, to shift this, and to keep the field vibration high then we must release from the out there and continue to shift from within.
Another eye opening shift is that this incoming solar cycle has been predicted to be of a Grand design, meaning more sun spots, more flares more mutating gamma rays along with plenty of plasma to assist the transformation or evolutionary process. Lets just say a Grand Solar Maximum has potential to create a lot of “magic” (of course this would be bringing disruption to the 3rd dimensional operations so it appears as chaos) which will highlight our addictions, dependencies and really bring home the awareness of how much we rely on technology, and have become so reliant and entwined with the very world we say we no longer want to grow. Time to go back to cash? Perhaps at least keeping a stash ready in the event of flash disruptions would be handy?
In the last days of 2019 we saw a couple of sunspots from the new cycle, then on the 2nd January another appeared which indicates we have the new activity beginning after an incredibly long recorded year of a blank sun, hence the deep solar minimum we are in and this incredibly deep work we have all been busy completing, but let’s just say this decade will be the year many more open to their SOUL-AR Alignment as they realise the power of energy and open to the keys of how to harness and surf the Source flow, learning the secrets of our Solar Disc, the true Son that humans proclaim their love for, and opening up the ability to climb the ladder of light and prepare for each Ones Ascension.
One must KNOW, that for any alignment to take place the mind must be open to the process, the physical must align to Being and to how the alignment operates and the Energy will then do its’ work and fill the field, expanding and creating the form to continue one’s journey of expansion.
What might be the eye opener is how the new cycle begins and there always tends to be quite a “magic” event. Please remember before I go on that the meaning of magical is used quite differently so that we see it as chaos in its slowest most dense form, but this Divine Magic is the alchemy for our transitions as a race. With this in mind the last deepest solar minimum we experienced was 1913, the next solar cycle in 1914 was the year of World War I, as well as a whole list of other historical events and campaigns across the globe including sections of the Ghandi story. Now I am not saying war will begin however these points of change, these shifts in cycles do bring exponential change, just as the 2009 solar minimum which really got our planet moving for 2012 which was the year that the solar activity began to maximise causing a mass wave of awakenings and our forerunners anchoring in their new found energies of the 5th dimensional world for us all to begin flowing through and experiencing too.
We will witness as all materialises but in the meantime we continue working within to reduce the inflammation and conflict because as we know all is simply a reflection and if we want more perceived higher frequency experiences then we achieve this by adjusting from within.
The cosmic period we are now in takes us deep inside the cocoon phase in which we perfect the tone of our shell, we perfect the nutrient balances and become the alchemists of transformation for us to then see how our self-creation “fares up” in the rays of the next solar cycle.
The higher the vibration, the higher the health levels the more bright and strong the butterfly wings will be to withstand the incoming solar storms and flares.
What is a little interesting to note from observations is that something is appearing to be out of balance…..which of course, any imbalance is perfect through its perceived imperfection, it will hold a yet unknown reason, perhaps such as the tipping point, perhaps part of the build up to the tipping point, we are all feeling unsure and I know we can all feel something about to flip. The abnormality I have noticed is the fact we are experiencing a very warm winter here in the UK, in fact the tip of Scotland had a record temperature of I believe 18 degrees C over the festive period, what is odd is that being that we are in a solar minimum and have been since the end of 2018 and with this we should technically be cooling, we should be experiencing snow here in the UK……and its been balmy, light jackets are more than adequate and night time temperatures aren’t dipping so bad either. This is apparently set to turn but the near future predictions are still incredibly mild for a deep solar minimum.
Of course this will be symbolic, there is always purpose and it will be a part of a process, the initiates have found that there is of course a pattern, our bodies have also been going through rapid burn up, super high temperature radiating from the spine. For me this is highlighting that we are speeding up, of course all is One and therefore Earth will ascend as we do also which brings me onto the next words that keep coming up for 2020 and that is Fire and Ice. I haven’t quite got the entire translation and I am not going to attempt it, it’s not the way it works for me as this is my experience to journey too, therefore I cannot know it all and neither do I want to. The Fire and Ice symbols and codes have been appearing in my field in a whole range of ways, but there is no doubt the words are being placed under my nose like light gems.
Fire, it’s happening. Australia we love you and we are holding you in our arms whilst the balance moves itself through for the next phase of y(our) journey, but of course it isn’t just Australia. In 2019 we saw some massive issues across our globe and this of course will continue into our future until we listen to the needs of this planet and realise that in order to exist here we must harmonise. We will stop mining fossil fuels and use our Source as intended and we will stop picking at the lungs of our planet and leave the trees and forests alone. Australia is surely to now show the world how it’s done, but what makes me curious is it appears there is a part of the pattern that’s missing right now and the contradiction is the lack of ICE, the cooling of the solar minimum isn’t here….
This of course highlights my expectation in the patterns, which hinders the view of the truth, of the pattern shape which I will expand into given time but I thought it would be interesting to share my part completed puzzle with you, who knows there could be someone holding the other half.
But this out of balance feeling, also feels incredibly perfect in the pressure, the sense that something is going to snap, and it’s making itself known within us all. There are so many contradictions in the unconscious field that we all can sense that the back is about to be broken on so many old cycles and this anticipation or perhaps fear for many is exactly what’s required to be added into the melting pot to cause the alchemical activation to awaken the most stubborn of sleepers.
Waking up in this decade will be fast, hard, almost railroaded….or bust.
That’s another contradiction through the 4th realm: what we want, what we say we want, what we yearn for and yet our non-acceptance to how it moves. Fighting Self to hold mirrors and resist love, the very thing we declared we wanted, denied due to attachments.
Another word that will be coming up a lot in 2020 is ATTACHMENTS, with the Capricorn Council active to kick start this 10 year period there will be one simple question to ask self, ‘am I attached to outcomes, loyalties, obligations, expectations of the physical kind or am I moving into the New World from within where everything has purpose. All is free to move and the knowing of the Divine Plan is encoded and followed, again with the shifts about to happen on our physical world stage much of the attachment and victim programming will becoming highly active for that to be seen and dissolved.
Please know, especially those reading these words and not yet understanding, that beneath the world you have known to be true is another world. It is the world that creates your world and we have learned how to Master this within our fields, I am here to assist and the A Gift from Gaia website is not too far away. It will be home to all the keys and gems, the alignments and portals I have discovered so far and will continue to write until it’s time for me to leave here. I write to share but to also ground in the journey, to assist, simply because I LOVE and sharing LOVE is my role, and yours too, just in case you haven’t worked that part out, no one is different other than some are just more inquisitive than others and become great key seekers.
So as we move into this new year and decade we know there is a ridiculous amount of change we are about to experience. Nothing can stay as it was and the power I was receiving behind the words of make this year-end count, that it wont ever be the same again has opened up an alertness, an awareness of how vast and how earth changing these incoming years are to be.
For us to be dissolving the attachment programming on this level, for us to be ushering in the Age of Aquarius then this IS BIG, we have now manifested our collective dream.
The focus must be understanding the Sacred Field, this Key will soon be available to those outside the SOUL-AR Alignment Course but for now what this means is committing to the upkeep of the tone of your sacred temple. Making sure the structure is strong, that all internal requests are immediately actioned without delay, that all feeds in and out are of the highest value and that the gates are secured allowing the most respectful and responsible to join and INjoy the celestial tones that emanate from your Divine Aligned Field.
This focus is the only focus of the Initiate, it is our only “working” role if you like in which we must be active and observing always. Once this is learned its easy and work is pleasure anyway because the activity and observing also gives the signs, symbols and gem trails into new data and experiences, its how we operate once the field is stable and we really wouldn’t want it any other way, neither could we go back to the old way, once we can read the language of the field it’s a whole new world, and then some, because even this doesn’t stop, there is always more….ALWAYS.
What is interesting is when the awareness expanded and the experience gifted the wisdom of how easy it all is once we operate from the centre point of the Sacred Field, the word work doesn’t hold the same old heavy vibration, everything does become simple, it’s a flow, and it moves with ease, and this flow, this ease, will be the space to exist within whilst everything begins to move much faster. A centrifugal force ejecting, rejecting, dissolving and removing within the spin to ensure there is constant space for opportunity, whether this is chosen or not is another matter. It’s a choice personal to each, but resisting these energies will again highlight the levels of attachment to this world and the blind commitment to the reincarnation process, or the karmic wheel if you prefer, which are the patterns of the Piscean Era that we are now all dissolving. We cannot be free to explore the quantum field and surf the astral planes if we hold attachment to the presenting world, which is after all simply a reflection, only the Piscean teachings would have you believe you can have both, but it simply cannot work that way. We either operate from the energetic world, the point of creation which gives us access to our Creative Freedom, or not. We hold the attachment to the physical and try and manipulate from there, but we know this is a fully tried and tested way of dis-ease and separation, it doesn’t fulfil, it creates needs and desires for more, to repeat, to perfect, it’s a world and a way that can NEVER be satisfied because what it believes it seeks was programmed in as a belief.
These words will trigger the attachments and accentuate the lack and loss programming however always remember that the Divine detachment will always “sort out” the experiences for the great distortion removals that will reflect the need to try fix or hold on.
These often end quite loudly and in the beginning there is enough anger to raise and create a force to continue the removal before the wanting to fall back to the old way begins again. As I said things are speeding up, therefore the old hard way to break free actually becomes so much easier, we have all pretty much seen what there was to be seen and repeating during these evolutionary speeds become pointless. Also remember that the truth is you are neither abandoning or leaving anyone or anything, you are releasing the trails of co-dependency in which we learn about our fear of things and people leaving, nothing ever leaves; we are One, we are always connected, in so many ways, our genetics, energy, memories, thoughts, stories, all of it is a very powerful connection, if you haven’t learned this and can only feel connection in the physical reality then the separation and non-understanding is seen. For that space to be filled and the full connection established, no one and nothing leaves, it’s just our ideas, beliefs and wants for everything to stay, but given time we get to see how this creates nothing but stagnation in the field. There is no love in control, and this way is laden with conditions and that’s not the path of the light walker, likewise holding blame, judgement and anger attached to these memories, thoughts, feelings and stories continues the perpetuating distortive energy within the field and continues the karmic processing.
In 2019 I released the key called the Karma Dogs which explains the point and purpose in bringing all experiences to a point of neutrality so that the gift of growth for all connected can be experienced and the blockages finally released, again this will soon be available for All to access. This key will also bring the awareness as to why dis-ease such as mental health illness will appear to increase at an exponential rate this year and more visibly through the first half of the decade. Again this is essential for it to be Seen and for our world to stand up and begin to care more, looking for new ways to understand the stress and why it has continued to build even though the psychiatric world technically should know more today than ever before, and yet the contradiction highlights that this knowledge clearly isn’t aligned as we continuously see the statistics increase and mutate, more youngsters being diagnosed with mental health presentations and specifically eating disorders that are symbolic to their foundations not being supported, and an over sensitivity to control.
Again, this must become loud for the transition to begin, this is not something to be judged but it is something we can all take responsibility for by caring more for Self and therefore our race, by each taking the responsibility to hold their Sacred Field we set the tone and experience for all those we come into contact with, we become the example, our path holds the trail of directions and sign posts that we took and for those choosing to be a part of the shift, this change will follow.
We are the example, by choosing to show up HealthFULL and filled with compassion, and this is what catches the attention of our sleepy Brothers and Sisters, creating a flow to follow.
This is the world that exists under the physical presentations, the world I was speaking of earlier in which the details discussed here in truth are simply just another pattern, a pattern rumbling and ready to implode the moment the balance tips. A world that the psychiatric knowledge ignores and yet it is the space we truly operate from and it is the answer to all health, this is now expanding and becoming known, the more we open up to this Quantum existence, the more people who follow the keys and find themselves in fields of gold, the more the old foundations and ways they operate cease to be effective, steering more towards the unseen world.
2020 is a Master 22 year, this is a year in which the NewBuild or the New World starts to rise, it is the year that we witness the phoenix take form from the ashes, and the power of this year is quite frankly nothing we are have ever been close to experiencing for many many lifetimes and it kick starts in January creating an exponential start to this year.
Let’s take a little closer look to this incredible month
The Capricorn Council may well be active in January but let’s be sure to understand that this wave has been building since Pluto entered in 2008 and blew the horn to herald the great transformation and we have been surfing ever since with a crest of the wave here in 2020. This theme will continue specifically throughout this year as the wave moves through, so whilst we may feel that January will be a climax it will show itself to simply be a crucial part of something much larger, this again is a pattern, a wave, and this wave or pattern will show itself as a part of an even larger fractal if you observe from a more high space.
The Saturn and Pluto conjunction I find historically interesting to watch (Sit tight because you are about to receive some energetic confirmation as your body reacts to the truth tones)Is the 1914 conjunction that happened in………Cancer, the opposite to Capricorn.
Hmmmm I am sure you are now recalling what I spoke about earlier regarding 1913 and 1914, the great solar minimum that we are now aligned with and experiencing in 2019 and 2020, and we are now transiting the same conjunction of the two mighty power lords in our heavens, whilst we are soon to exit a great solar minimum……there are never any coincidences, this is HIGHLY symbolic and screams balance and change.
This is a super pattern, this is the reaping of what we have sewn from another cycle lasting 106 years, have we learned? Are we to repeat and learn more or will we experience the expansion of coming together in unity? I feel the magic will show all angles to the hands so that we can be even more dumbfounded by the show.
The most interesting energy in this flip from 1914 to now is that we are of course in the sign of Capricorn. Cancer gave us a huge emotional shake up, so the opportunity to build from this IS now here if we choose, all is a choice. In Capricorn the home of Saturn the energy takes us into a fast transformative phase of deconstruction and reconstruction with the blessing and aid of Pluto. The focus sits within our Banks, Governments, this includes the medical world and its “control” as it acts like a narcissist’s flying monkey assisting in the current social programming. Saturn represents the glass ceiling, it creates apparent blocks and boundaries, a gift to ensure we learn exactly what is required for our progression and only ever released with permission to pass when we have a key player such as Pluto or perhaps Neptune or maybe a very abrupt shift, something unexpected such as Uranus involved too. Saturn represents structures, our material world and everything we deem as real, including our creation of time. Well we are here, we are surfing Saturn whilst we have Pluto in balance play.
The navigation, the instructions to this game is guiding us to prepare for all structure, even down to our molecular structure to transform into the new form.
One other flip that continues to rise in the transmissions is the contradictions that are becoming highly visible, the polarities, the duality, the opposition (note above, the opposition of Cancer and Capricorn, which ultimately represents birth and death, a low octave cycle of Pluto) the references to the flip, is this about to be the energetic pole shift? Will this pattern now begin to take form in the physical?
The pendulum swing from positive to negative began some time ago, we all reached the opportunity to rest in the central point, the mid way, the space of peace, each of us have been able to find this place if we wanted as the information and availability to this octave has been fully open and active for some time, now the pendulum swings again, and its best description is the rags to riches, riches to rags or the next visual is the flip of the pyramid……but this visual keeps expanding, from one pyramid, the mirrored other half of the shape becomes visible, two pyramids, one inverted creating the unseen mystical Merkabah, the key to the light force, the seed of creation.
However the symbolic words that centre around the flip manifest, be sure to release the attachment to how this may look, it would be advisable to stay in the Divinely Detached space of being the observer as opposed to experiencing the force of the flip through the attachment to the old ways, Divine Detachment gives the ability to be free and fly when the physical earth begins to shake too hard.
Another interesting guide here is Saturn’s link into Religion, due to its karmic and control octaves and yet as we know, Saturn is in the process of completing its Piscean karmic story which is that of the religion we have come to know and base our entire beliefs around, and whether you think you are religious or not, your programming is plugged directly into it, the way we live is built on its foundations……and this is exactly what our celestial map is showing to now dismantle and transform with the partnership of Pluto.
With this transformation, the deconstruction and the NewBuild it will take great levels of responsibility for each to hold, and it is through taking this responsibility that we regain our power as the people. We release the old ideas of waiting to see how our field responds, we release the we shall see mentality, and we begin to care more, share more, and make everything within our field our responsibility, it becomes our committed choice, and anything we no longer want to be a part of or include in our field we close down, and this now goes for our structures and those who govern. To be fair we as the “public” have never stood up, have never said no, have continued to choose the better of two or more evils when the answer is clearly now a big united NO to anything and One who is continuing the patterns of insanity, repeating what simply does not harmonise or align to peace.
We the public never took the responsibility, we have been side-tracked with our life of addictions and desires. Perhaps its been fair to say we have never shown we have what it takes to be responsible and so if we want to activate this new field of responsibility then I encourage each to be making better daily choices to enhance the field, to care more about who we allow to be our leader and to not accept the old “that will do”, because when we instruct our field that only the finest will do then and only then will our collective field provide this.
The more responsibility we take, the more we support our own individual field and build the new world within, choosing to deny all that destructs and encompassing all that expands and brings joy to all within our individual and shared space, will then move the collective through quantum jumps as together we commit to increasing the vibration of our field and as a result rapidly dissolves all that is no longer accepted or required, it becomes spent.
The New World is built by those who take responsibility, and we are now to take this pearl of wisdom and truly become a part of the evolutionary process we have started to create so that our Ancient Future Self continues to evolve and surf the cosmic sine wave.
This is no longer about you and I, this is all about Us and We.
The first week of January holds the conjunction of Mercury and Jupiter whilst we move into the first lunar eclipse of 2020, this energy is exaggerated by the moon’s transit through the zodiac and begins to trine each planet creating a harmonious feel before it starts to square off with the Capricorn Crew opening us to more magical and yet chaotic energy in which the Jupiter mercury conjunction will bring swift flows of expansion for those choosing to bide by the terms being set by the Council sat in the hall of Capricorn.
Mars takes us into an interesting wave, the lower masculine frequencies within the collective begin to be triggered, not wanting to be left behind appears to be prominent in the collective data and this is shown in the celestial map as Mars trails behind in Sagittarius. He makes square with Chiron which rings the unconscious masculine wounding like a bell allowing more to be awakened and seen within and enabling us to see this within our fields and make the conscious choice to remove the dis-ease. His time in front of the Council doesn’t come around until 16th February, right after Valentines Day and continues into March 30th when on the 31st his conjunction with Saturn sees them both walking into Aquarius together, another very crucial phase as Saturn resets the masculine coding for the Aquarian era.
So with this trailing behind, this slow physical lower masculine energy is now something that becomes incredibly important to give focus, this is representing the balance of the masculine and feminine frequencies, bringing forth opportunities to discover the divine union within. The template of the unified flame is simple, the masculine energy is our action, its what we do, its how we think, and it has been incredibly separated from its support, the feminine, the guidance from within, the voice that is always known and never acted upon, which is the pattern of the separation. We have been healing this wounding and the union happens once the voice, the feminine is heard and has been re-established as the voice of reason, the only voice that commands the advancements in the field. So what we have appearing now is a vital period, a relatively short linear period of three months in which the magic wand will be pointed and the new will appear before our eyes, again the reality of this will look like much falls away, but what is left is all that is required to build the new and by cutting away that which is unable to expand will provide the most healthFULL base to build upon.
Moving into the second week of January we begin with some awkwardness in the field as the moon in Gemini quincunxes the Capricorn Council, we will see the path but will find a glass sheet stopping the progression, go in, see where the resistance is, where is the attachment to the form and physical, release and move again, Gemini can make it all a little dithery so be precise. Another word(s) for this year, precise and precision, make your choice and move which aligns with the Saturn and Capricorn ruling. I am sure you are all merging with your cosmic goat and learning that to dither or be indecisive when climbing these steep mountain slopes leads to mistakes, wobbles and falls in which we bounce down the mountain, sustain injury to teach us and without thought begin the climb once again; this could feel like a crazy groundhog day if you haven’t begun merging with your spirit goat within and especially if you have at some point declared yourself an ascender, the sign of the goat is the great ascender of the signs, it is the sign that teaches us the climb, from the very bottom to the very top with all the pitfalls and pitstops in-between and I highly encourage this is learned before the experience teaches you, its much kinder, more responsible, to be one step ahead of the learning experience.
On the 10th we are powered by a new angle of energy, the moon moves into its phase of opposition whilst our Luna goddess sits in the emotional courtroom seat of Cancer, she looks across and sees the eyes of the Council staring back, at a point in which Saturn and Pluto are both on the 22nd degree.
Lunar Eclipse with the sun sandwiched between Pluto and Saturn conjunct Mercury on one side and Jupiter and South Node on the other, whilst the moon trines Neptune bringing so much to light. Data and information is to surface to assist in the fast movement, this also could well be quite conflicting in terms of sun and mercury feeding data from the physical and yet Neptune and moon bringing up the internal guidance, another testing time, another choice point to either take the guidance from within or continue the old way with what is fed from the field.
Uranus will also be stationing direct on this day.
12th of January we reach the crucial tipping point that we have been talking about for the past few years, can you believe we are finally here! Yes, I am sure on the one hand it’s a wow moment and yet on the other you are fully aware of the work it has taken to get to this point, in which we now experience the speed intensify, a conjunction of pure karmic transformation, a cosmic reset of the most gigantic kind, a resetting of a 500 year portal which will induce our chosen clearing and releasing modality aligned to the patterns of speed we surf, the incoming of 5G speedy data to disrupt the unconscious patterns and dissolve what is no longer required as part of our evolution and its learning structure. We requested change, we requested connection, we requested more information, we requested to evolve but of course how this manifests isn’t always what we think we need; our history shows us this with wars and major events that whilst on a personal level they appear abhorred on the grand design each are essential to make way for the new through what we have learned through the experience, or perhaps as our history tells us, what we didn’t learn and what we had to loop. Again this loop, the karmic cycle is breaking down and so many many human lines will be now going through the purification processes to unify and come back to the One, this looks like ancestral lines closing on a physical view but energetically it is energy returning to Source.
So much will begin bubbling to the surface from this point on, the theme underneath all will be floating around the Unified Flame of the Masculine and Feminine, which in turn appears to place more pressure on Mars as he edges ever closer to Capricorn, the guidance here is to pay attention to the whispers within and follow that guiding star, to focus on what is required for the unification and to withstand the G force of the movement we are making through time and space, supporting the physical, listening to its requests and acting without delay, from here we all focus on creating strong light filled structures because we will find that nothing else will do from this point forward.
Complacency is dissolving, priority and purpose fully installed.
Once the conjunction takes place we then move through Mercury’s passing, the planet of communication passes the point of karmic transformation and a new way of delivery is birthed. This will be a time to fully understand the power of the spoken word, this will be lessons in the destruction of banter, flippant comments and word spells and each opens to more opportunities to understand the power of our spoken language and how blind we were to our incantations. A new respect for our language and for many a new language to be birthed, especially for those discovering the language of the body, the field and the physical realms. On the other hand, for those who have experienced the floods in the fields, those unable to hold back and observe, struggling with the silence in the field may well find the shift into the observer space an easy transition as Mercury and then the Sun transits over the Dark Lords.
Moments ahead we have our Moon trine Neptune bringing in some super sensitivity which when dived into will unveil spaces and places in which to create upon, most likely highlighting more that requires clearing first as the month of January simply no longer allows us to bring the old frequencies into the new, that’s the respect and responsibility gate now placed in Capricorn, you wouldn’t exactly go waltzing into Nando’s eating a bag of chips from the local chippy, understanding the rules, the etiquette of Saturn and its goaty ways will align you to the open doors of the new light establishments being built under the newly refreshed Saturn and his learned friends.
In fairness the rules were always there, the first initiation is to learn the Universal Laws, unfortunately spirituality teaches it all backwards and its not until the beliefs and stories are stripped away that all we are ever left with and all that was ever needed to understand is the way our Universe behaves, and to align with this.
But as a race we chose to learn this the most complex way, however I guess if we learn backwards then the chances are we will discover all there is to learn and never again have the requirement to repeat.
Technically each of us has become a part of history
As we can see already the amount of energy building in the first half of January, this period is going to be incredibly busy, and again, these are shifts that haven’t been experienced for generations, we have no recent references within our coding to pull in any experience from, we are being held accountable and being asked to make every step, breath, word, fully action aligned, consciously responsible and as we move into the latter half of the month this doesn’t change.
The moon then moves into another square around the 16th, another passing in front of the cosmic Council, have we got this yet? No? Then repeat, yes? Then let’s shift and shift we most certainly shall because this square has the moon in Libra, balance, justice, this is IT, this is an almighty opportunity entering for those happy and comfortable to be walking in unison, both within and without.
Come the 20th the already wide open eye is most likely to open some more, even when we believe it can’t open any further, the Sun will join Mercury in Aquarius, there will have been results of some description, a want to come out and reconnect but what will be connecting into, it’s going to be new, it’s going to require learning how to operate once more, which ultimately again shakes the attachments free and helps us to open further into the flow, it feels explorative to the inquisitive and will allow the fear to be seen in the stagnant restrictive areas that are not welcome to change. This shift of energy will have us all exploring the new that has begun to take form.
Finally we shall end this report for January on the Aquarian New Moon on the 24th which will feel like the culmination point of the incredible January journey, and by the feel of this energy one month is going to progress and perform as though a year has passed, a huge quantum leap and a giant portal to begin the month of February. The snag, the area to pay close attention is the days running up to the New Moon, specifically the 22nd and 23rd as the Moon transits the Capricorn Council, the Luna goddess reports in.
Again, has it been learned?
The New Moon in Aquarius will have us expanded, showing up in our finery of this most incredible transformative month.
To summarise there is only one word to use……MAGICAL
January is setting the tone of this year, it is a year to advance, grow and expand at an exponential rate and this is going to require the ability to love self unconditionally and to finally ignite that twin flame within, uniting the masculine with the feminine to continue what is now set to be the ride of our lifetime.
There are of course many other transits and aspects and I will share more as we pass through but for now angels it is most definitely time to focus on the flight path, this is intricate, this is life changing but remember, we are doing this together, we are loved we are supported and we have choices, we can choose to move through consciously or choose to be a part of the unconscious breakdown, all choices are respected and never judged.
Sending so much love
Andrea 💙💙💙
********
LoveHasWon.org is a Non-Profit Charity, Heartfully Associated with the “World Blessing Church Trust” for the Benefit of Mother Earth
Share Our Messages with Love and Gratitude
LOVE US @ MeWe mewe.com/join/lovehaswon
Visit Our Online Store for Higher Consciousness Products and Tools: LoveHasWon Essentials
http://lovehaswonessentials.org/
Visit Our NEW Sister Site: LoveHasWon Angel Numbers
https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/
Commentary from The First Contact Ground Crew 5dSpiritual Healing Team:
Feel Blocked, Drained, Fatigued, Restless, Nausea, Achy, Ready to Give Up? We Can Help! We are preparing everyone for a Full Planetary Ascension, and provide you with the tools and techniques to assist you Home Into The Light. The First Contact Ground Crew Team, Will Help to Get You Ready For Ascension which is Underway. New Spiritual Sessions have now been created for an Entire Family, including the Crystal Children; Group Family Healing & Therapy. We have just began these and they are incredible. Highly recommend for any families struggling together in these times of intense changes. Email: [email protected] for more information or to schedule an emergency spiritual session. We can Assist You into Awakening into 5d Reality, where your experience is one of Constant Joy, Wholeness of Being, Whole Health, Balanced, Happy and Abundant. Lets DO THIS! Schedule Your Session Below by following the Link! Visit: http://www.lovehaswon.org/awaken-to-5d/
Introducing our New LoveHasWon Twin Flame Spiritual Intuitive Ascension Session. Visit the link below:
https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-twin-flame-spiritual-intuitive-ascension-session/
Request an Astonishing Personal Ascension Assessment Report or Astrology Reading, visit the link below for more information:
https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-ascension-assessment-report
https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-astrology/
Experiencing DeAscension Symptoms, Energy Blockages, Disease and more? Book a Holistic Healing Session
https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-holistic-healing-session/
To read our Testimonials you can follow this link: http://www.lovehaswon.org/testimonials
Connect with MotherGod~Mother of All Creation on Skype @ mothergoddess8
Request a copy of our Book: The Tree of Life ~ Light of The Immortals Book
Order a copy of Our LoveHasWon Ascension Guide: https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-ascension-guide/
**If you do not have a Paypal account, click on the button below:
If you wish to donate and receive a Tax Receipt, click the button below:
Donate with Paypal
Use Cash App with Our code and we’ll each get $5! FKMPGLH
Cash App Tag: $lovehaswon1111
Cash App
Donate with Venmo
VENMO
Support Our cause in the creation of the Crystal Schools for Children. Visit our fundraising link below:
LoveHasWon Charity for Crystal Schools
Support Our Charity in Co~Creating the New Earth Together by Helping Mother of All Creation. Visit our fundraising link below:
Support Mother Earth!
Support Us on PATREON
PATREON
Support Us Through Our LoveHasWon Wish List
LoveHasWon Wish List
We also accept Western Unionand Moneygram. You may send an email to [email protected] more information.
***If you wish to send Donations by mail or other methods, email us at [email protected] or [email protected]***
**** We Do Not Refund Donations****
MeWe ~ Youtube ~ Facebook~ Apple News ~ Linkedin ~ Twitter~ Tumblr ~ GAB ~ Minds ~ Google+~ Medium ~ StumbleUpon ~ Reddit~ Informed Planet~ Steemit~ SocialClub~ BlogLovin~ Flipboard ~ Pinterest ~ Instagram ~ Snapchat
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
TITLE: A Super Solid History of the “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy(s),” c. The Beginning (or There About) to Now-ish
SUMMARY: Human beings are absolute fools when it comes to love. It’s largely the reason why God, in all Her infinite wisdom, so cleverly decided that the beings in Her employ (and thereafter) would have nought to do with such petty, earthly matters. Not they had seen a memo or anything, but it merely seems obvious, does it not? (Ao3)
NOTES: Hello, hello! Here be my very first Good Omens fic. Please note that I have only just started the novel and so this is mostly a product of my having watched the series several times over.
. . .
+ Perhaps one of the cruelest tricks that God has ever played (and the list was indeed long) was in allowing angels to believe they were incapable of love. There is some amount of debate as to whether or not this was entirely by accident. She was a busy woman after all━perhaps that was why it, the question of whether or not angels were truly capable of love, had slipped through one of her metaphysical cracks (of which, admittedly, there were many). Those who managed to refrain from falling had quite an easier time believing this particular theory to be very much the case. A largely unspoken, slightly offended, “She would never,” followed by an affirmation of the belief in the long held assumption that they were above such things anyway, so really, what did it even matter, and can we please return to the task at hand?
Those who did happen to fall on the other hand, went in rather the opposite direction. In a somewhat convoluted fashion (they were technically still angels after all), demons argued that, no, celestial beings had never been capable of love, and, yes, this was done with abundant amounts of purpose. Not to mention the longstanding rumor that perhaps they were always capable, which served the purpose of both dividing and controlling the heavenly population by means of dispensing vague, unverified information. And to the more skeptical among them they might say, “Well, she’s God isn’t she? It’s not as if she lacks the ability.”
In point of fact, they were both wrong.
From the very moment they had begun their stint upon the Earth, Aziraphale had often pondered the nature of love. They had heard the rumors, of course, not that they held much affinity for such behavior. No good has ever come from a rumor, they thought, particularly when their mind was especially prone to recalling those terrible centuries of heavenly warfare. No taste for it━the whispering between nebulas; the speculating of who would be staying and who would be going. Aziraphale had often suspected that it was part of the reason why Crowley had ended up doing… what he did. That perhaps the assumption they would fall did more to provoke the descent than anything else. It was a shame, but it had been so long ago, and there didn’t seem to be much to do about it now, at any rate.
Regardless, the question of love as it pertained to earthly beings, that made rather a bit more sense. Not to the humans themselves of course, but to Aziraphale, and even to Crowley, the emotion was in fact easily explained and somewhat predictable when applied in almost every conceivable situation. Usually.
“There is no possible way that girl is worth so few goats.”
Aziraphale had never felt truly comfortable with early human rituals as they pertained to establishing their various relationships. The use of the dowry, for example, particularly when a father might value a herd of sheep over the life of his child (and at this point in time, rather too young, in their estimation), stirred something… untoward in their gut.
“She’s a bit young, don’t you think?”
Even then, Crowley had possessed the somewhat uncanny ability to speak the words that Aziraphale often thought but feared to say aloud, and while a part of them was grateful to hear them spoken, the other part was curious as to how their supposed enemy could be so well-attuned to their thoughts. Could be the point, I suppose, they thought, looking quickly away before Crowley could notice, to catch us unawares with their deceptive bouts of intimacy.
“Well there, Aziraphale, how ‘bout it? Can I count on you?”
“Oh, um, my apologies,” they stammered, unfamiliar fleshy fingers tangling together, “count on me for what?”
“Your discretion,” Crowley reiterated with an air of unrepentant espionage curling around the crown of their head, “she is worth far more goats than... that.”
Aziraphale envied the demon’s seemingly instinctive use of their own hands; tossed about in the air, waved vaguely in the direction of the unfortunate scene which played out before them. How did one use one’s own hands as a means of further emphasizing their point? Marvelous. They would have to spend more time working on that.
“ Aziraphale ,” Crowley repeated, one eyebrow raised smartly above their golden eye, “I know you can’t be a fan of this either.”
“Well, no,” they admitted, “but I am merely here to observe, and I did promise myself that last time would be the last time.”
Crowley hummed with a mildly infuriating tone of knowing skepticism (which Aziraphale didn’t much appreciate), “Alright, well, if you’re here to observe and all, I guess there’s nothing you’d be able to do about this.”
Aziraphale was, as it turned out, not quite quick enough in noting that, as a matter of fact, yes, they would be well within their rights to interfere when a demon was involved, but by that point Crowley had vanished from their side, and a slithering serpent had already begun making its way towards the feet of the large old bearded gentleman who had offered far too few goats for so young and bright a person.
. . .
It was right around the time human beings started getting rather more polite with their food that Aziraphale managed to develop a fair higher degree of grace with his own hands. Rather difficult to eat a steaming bowl of noodles without the use of… “chop-sticks.” Gracious, Gabriel would be horrified by the very idea. Not just by the “sullying of the vessel,” but the notion that one might do so with sticks? Unthinkable. Regardless, it all came fairly easy after that (the hands); throwing a pair of dice, holding a quill or a pair of knitting needles. After a time he discovered that he very much enjoyed the tactility━the variety of sensations felt on the surface of the skin he had been ordered to have.
He had also, around this time, begun to go about being referred to as “he.” Moreso to blend in than anything else. It was hard to pin down when exactly, but at some point humanity became far more reliant upon noting the difference. It made a certain kind of sense, he supposed, if they were going to insist upon such hierarchical-like systems to survive.
“They are Her creations after all,” Crowley reasoned, casually (almost certainly, casually) observing Aziraphale’s hands as they cupped his bowl of broth.
Aziraphale made a somewhat half-hearted attempt to cool his soup, lest the demon sitting across from him note his discomfort. In as polite a fashion as possible, so as not to rock any proverbial boats, he made the potentially ill-advised decision to be predictable and “play dumb.”
“And,” with a mild stutter, “and what is it you mean by that?”
“Oh, don’t be dense, Angel, you know exactly what I mean by that.”
He hated when their conversations took these kinds of turns. When their differences became undeniable and he was forced to reconcile with the truth of their circumstances: That all evidence to the contrary, the demon sitting across from him was supposed to be his mortal enemy━and for what? Some… pesky disagreement? An oversimplification to be sure, it must be conceded, but all the same, for… what, exactly? What had it all been for?
Having accepted the frequent refrain of Aziraphale’s silence in moments such as these, Crowley had returned to his own drink; a sharp yet sweet rice wine that Aziraphale had recommended. All the better for his own sanity, for his own return to his hot bowl of flavorful broth (with some kind of... fish base, in which large pieces of seaweed, accompanied by smaller cubes of to-fu floating alongside; absolutely fascinating, by the way), and unsettling, unwelcome questions that did little good for him to ponder over. But ponder he inevitably would, and he felt it prudent to admit that he had himself often wondered what might have happened if he had been more… present during the whole debacle (the war, as it were), or even if he had known Crowley at the time━would the outcome have been the same?
It doesn’t seem a particularly worthy avenue of thought to continue shambling down, especially if one were to consider the fact that it was all decided upon long, long ago; but as he sneaks a glance upwards, to the sight of a demon sat across from him at a table, taking careful sips of a rice wine he has no reason to drink (other than to acquiesce to Aziraphale’s own enthusiastic request) he does have to wonder, How bad can they really be?
It’s on this particular evening that Aziraphale and Crowley happen to “brush hands” for the very first time. Azirphale had, on occasion, been made aware of the concept, but had yet to fully partake in such an episode. Human beings seemed to make quite a to-do of the whole affair. He had borne witness to such things with his own eyes, and was rather struck by the intensity of something that seemed so bafflingly simple. But then again, that seemed to be the nature of love. At least as it pertained to human beings. Angels were immune to such things, clearly.
They had both reached for the bottle at the same time, is all. Nothing to fuss over. It was bound to happen sometime━trapped as they were in these rather cumbersome… things; adjusting to the speed and the space of it all. Moving with both certainty and uncertainty, holding things too tightly or not tightly enough. Silly, unreliable things. You had to wonder what She’d been thinking (not that Aziraphale would ever say so, of course).
The poets will speak of a spark, but Aziraphale didn’t much know about all of that. He could acknowledge a warmth, perhaps even a… tingle? In retrospect he might even recall a raising of the soft hairs along his arms. But really, there’s not much to say about it. Other than the fact that from the perspective of an outsider there was perhaps an unnatural pause. A stiffness that mortal beings struggled to find. Most living, physical beings required breath you see━they are frequently at the whims of their world; it is, quite nearly, impossible not to be in motion for any extended period of time. That was just the way She wanted it. The unrepentant motion. The force. The push forwards. Don’t stop, never stop. Until, you know, She says so.
These two beings, however, they weren’t human beings. They were created by God, of course, but they were relatively new to this “body,” business, and as such they still seemed to be encountering the unfortunate and inconvenient side effects. Touch being just one of many. Angels didn’t really touch in the same way humans did. Their natural forms failed to really give them the ability. They did in fact… collide with each other from time to time, but it was limitless. There was no barrier. If anything, it was a bit unpleasant━the lack of boundaries. Something about “seamless teamwork,” is what Aziraphale could recall from his discussions with Gabriel, or Michael. It was difficult to tell the difference sometimes. Regardless (or perhaps irregardless), human touch would appear to be quite a bit different. Because there was a pretty significant boundary, and for whatever reason that Aziraphale had yet to identify, it felt somehow more intimate than the traditional, angelic “brushing of hands,” as it were.
Crowley, in a rare moment of clumsiness, must have felt similarly because in his shock had pulled his hand back so swiftly that he managed to knock the half-empty bottle to the table with a soft snick, with a gentle, rhythmic dripping of the remaining wine to follow.
“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale muttered, moving quickly to right the bottle and dab at the developing stain. Crowley had stood rather abruptly after that, and not in the smooth, serpent-like manner that Aziraphale had become accustomed to, and with hardly a “so long,” turned and fled the scene. They would never mention that particular moment again, but Aziraphale, to his great, great consternation, did struggle to put it entirely out of his mind.
. . .
Oh, centuries pass. Not entirely unlike an unfathomably long sigh, the world continues as the world often does. As do the angels and the demons playing their parts in some… hip yet indescribably vague off-broadway production (with no discernible plot) written by and for an audience of precisely one. Maybe. Probably. Over the course of The Great Exhale (™), Aziraphale observes. He learns. Which should be obvious, as that was something of the job assigned to him in the first place, but he really takes a genuine interest in the task. So much so that he keenly starts to observe other observers, humans who frequently come to be called “authors.” Authors are truly outstanding observers in their own right; even going so far as to record their observations in impressively long works of art━in letters and in image, the authors and artists in question lend a helpful amount of weightiness to a position he had come to doubt on occasion.
“They see things in ways we can’t, you see,” Aziraphale had tried explaining to Gabriel during one unexpected (and painfully awkward) meeting. As he had come to expect, Gabriel listened with a look of mild confusion (and pity), but it didn’t bother Aziraphale all that much. He had his books. “You can tell the others there’s no reason to worry,” he continued quickly, hoping their conversation had reached its conclusion, “I have all we need right here.”
“No surprises, Aziraphale,” Gabriel warned in goodbye, slipping out the door, “and remember, they can’t see nearly as well as we can.”
“Well, we know that’s not true.”
The surprising (yet unmistakable) tenor of Crowley’s voice echoed from the darkness of Aziraphale’s office, which had been empty the last he checked. The angel in question could do little to prevent the slight hitch in his breathing, concerned with not only the unexpected appearance of a demon, but so quickly after the departure of an angel that would certainly see said demon immediately and irrevocably smited.
“That’s cheeky,” Aziraphale mumbled as Crowley sauntered out of the back room, his hair in its usual impeccable coif.
Shortly after Aziraphale acquired the bookshop, and not without some degree of honest ignorance as to why, Crowley did what he unfortunately happened to do best, and asked Aziraphale precisely what was the point of it all? And as had become usual practice, Aziraphale had a maddeningly difficult time coming up with an answer.
“You know, I’m not quite sure,” he finally admitted, “as soon as I do I shall let you know.”
“With bated breath, Angel,” Crowley had responded in distraction, his own nose lost in one of Aziraphale’s many books that he had seemingly no definitive explanation for.
. . .
The thing about Aziraphale’s exchange with the archangel Gabriel, that is the somewhat truncated version of an answer to Crowley’s “why,” was much longer and perhaps more blasphemous than Gabriel wanted to hear. But it was, possibly, exactly the kind of thing a demon (or rather, this demon) would want to hear.
Though Gabriel’s visit made for something of a stressful few hours, it was a particularly lovely day nonetheless. The leaves had begun changing their colors, but it was still pleasantly warm when standing in the sun, and should he feel just a touch too warm, a perfectly timed (some might say, miraculously timed) gust of wind would breeze on through the open window. Despite the fresh autumnal air, the smell of the books often lingered; the unmistakable scent of old paper and ink blending seamlessly with the decaying leaves which wound through the air and along the pavement.
“Do you happen to recall,” Aziraphale began, pouring Crowley an exquisitely steeped cup of Earl Grey, “when I first acquired this shop?”
In so much as Crowley could be predictable, he did, quite predictably, feign forgetfulness (not that angels or demons could forget very much by the very fact of their design). “Not certain,” he pondered theatrically, his sharp chin resting in the palm of his hand. “About what century was this, d’you think?”
Making the conscientious decision to refuse to participate in Crowley’s strange theatrics, Aziraphale continued, adjusting his vest as if it had suddenly shrunk while he was wearing it (which was certainly possible, he supposed). “Well, you had asked of me an admittedly fair question as to why I had purchased the shop at all, and I had told you I wasn’t quite certain as to why, and━”
“Yes, yes,” he interrupted, taking a sip of his tea, “let’s hear it then.”
“Well,” he began, somewhat taken aback by Crowley’s abrupt demand for an answer he had recently pretended to have forgotten, “I━I do believe it might have something to do with… love. Of all things.”
Crowley’s nose did indeed wrinkle, as if a bad sort of smell had passed beneath it from having even heard the word, but he did have a thoughtful look. If Aziraphale had to describe it, he might find himself comparing it to a rather more subdued version of the look that had passed over Crawley’s face subsequent to the infrequently mentioned Flaming Sword Incident (™). An expression of pleased surprise which, in retrospect, betrayed a yearning optimism that most demons should not, under any circumstances, possess.
See, as it happened, Aziraphale had been doing a lot of thinking as of late. Not a great habit, a stern-looking Gabriel would often scold in his head, It’s all been figured out anyway, no need to go reinventing the wheel. As it happened, Gabriel was quite unimpressed with the invention of the wheel. No great feat, in his estimation. Not that he found humans to be impressive in most cases. Aziraphale couldn’t blame him, he supposed. Gabriel hadn’t been tasked with the job Aziraphale had━maybe if he had been, he would’ve arrived at similar conclusions (likely not so, but it was hard for Aziraphale to deny giving others the benefit of the doubt).
If you were in fact playing one of the two roles assigned to you (that of Angel or Demon), you might be privy to something of a hotly debated topic. Love. What was it? Who was capable of it? Was it a uniquely human trait? Was it freely available to all beings? And of course, as was the question in most things, how in the world was God involved in all this?
“Oh, Angel, not this old… chestnut,” Crowley nearly spat. Despite the darkened frames over his eyes, Aziraphale practically felt his rolling of them.
“Now, hold on,” he continued, hoping to cut Crowley off at some self-righteous pass he knew wasn’t far behind, “just… wait.”
Obviously, it was rather difficult for anyone to speculate with any degree of certainty the true machinations of God’s mind. Whether God had designed everything (angels included) with the capability to feel and/or express love in its entirety or not, Aziraphale had begun to wonder whether or not it very much mattered (the debate, that is). You had to start with the Assumption (™).
“Which is…?”
A self-fulfilling prophecy. An angel such as Aziraphale, assuming that it didn’t much matter (whether or not God had given angels the capacity for love), which was the general opinion of the heavenly chorus━or Crowley and other demons similarly assuming it was all a vile manipulation borne of boredom and the Almighty’s irrepressible urge to have a hand (metaphorically speaking) in just about everything. All this and still the usual refrain from both sides: Humans and love, they know not what they do. As if the heavenly (or not so heavenly) were, at the very least, immune.
“It’s the isolation you see,” Aziraphale managed to somewhat tangientally conclude, “the being… trapped, as it were. In their bodies.”
It was in that moment that Aziraphale worried whether or not he had gotten a tad too close to the Spilled Wine Incident (™) which had occurred several centuries earlier ( long unspoken of). Wondered if perhaps Crowlely had, in his own time, reached a similar conclusion, and was in fact thinking the same exact thing. That of angelic… mingling and the somewhat invasive ability to see into the heart of someone’s soul, versus the perfectly human ability to hardly know a person at all except perhaps through a brief brushing of hands. The arrangement of words on a page. The splashes of color on a canvas. That perhaps God, in all her… strange, bureaucratic dereliction of parental duty had in fact given human beings one single instance of superiority.
“Love.”
In a limit imposed by God, human beings could only love one another given truly uncomfortable degrees of uncertainty, and what angel or demon had ever taken such a risk?
In case you (the reader) were wondering, interrupted God with a very gentle boom (otherwise one’s head was quite likely to explode), it’s them. The two of them. Idiots.
“So, the bookshop,” Crowley spoke, filling the void of Aziraphale’s silence, “you wanted to know more about this… Risky Business?”
There was almost certainly the undercurrent of a joke in there that Aziraphale would require an explanation for at some other juncture, but for now he merely nodded. “I believe so,” smiling into his cup, “for how valuable are our observations if we’ve only ever made them through our own omniscience?”
Long, long story, very much shortened to a far more reasonable and linear degree: Since The Beginning, angels and demons had largely felt confident in their belief that they knew far more than the average human (Agnes Nutter aside, of course); and Aziraphale, in the midst of an occasional crisis as to who knew what and how well, had, with the acquisition of his quaint little bookshop been unconsciously soothed by a truth several centuries in the making. That angels, like humans, did not in fact know everything. That they were not necessarily immune to what it was they had supposed, and that, quite blessedly, there was just… so very much to know. Even after all this time. Pages and pages and pages of things to know.
“It’s a fair point,” Crowley answered with a brief smile of his own, “never much cared for all the…” A signature wave of his free hand, bereft of his teacup, “...business anyway.” Referring of course to the traditional forms of angelic and/or demonic communication, which funnily enough, neither gentleman had experienced for quite some time.
And it was, during this particular turn in the narrative (quite nearing its conclusion, I promise you), that an angel and a demon would brush hands for a historical second time. Historic for the existence of hands, the fact of their briefly touching again, and of course the reality of their circumstances (which Aziraphale had become rather tired of noting). They both reached for the teapot at the same moment you see, which, if one were a betting man (or woman), they might imagine a divine hand or two, or several, or however many hands God might prefer to have, in the mix.
What made this particular time so different from the first was not only the fact of their very recent conversation, but the privilege of having several hundred years to have a good, rational think on the matter. So rational, in fact, that the urge to spring violently apart and knock something over seemed to be entirely absent.
“You know, I’ve often found it rather funny,” Aziraphale began quietly, painfully aware of where their fingers touched, “that despite my theory, you have often been quite good at mirroring my own thoughts.”
“Ironic,” Crowley agreed, “though you are rather easy to read I’m afraid.”
The beautiful thing about a brush is the secondary movements that might come after━particularly when the brush might provoke a pause. Most anything can occur in the midst of a pause. One might move a finger, for example, which in turn might elicit a not unpleasant shiver down one’s spine. There’s also the accompanying sound, which, for all his talk of humans being superior, it was a shame that their hearing was so dreadfully ordinary. It would be rather difficult for a human being to hear breath in the same way Aziraphale or Crowley might, sitting apart as they were. The intake and the exhale, all occurring within a brief, blissful pause which, along with their shared breath and the clinking of china, was accompanied by the continued autumnal breeze, and the scattering of dried foliage.
“I think,” Crowley continued, his hand moving, ever so slowly, to fully grasp Aziraphale’s own, “that we should consider testing your theory again.”
“Q-quite,” Aziraphale managed to answer, wonderfully overwhelmed by all the knowing (and marvelous not-knowing) occurring within the tangle of their hands. “I do enjoy a thorough undertaking of the scientific method.”
. . .
They were both wrong (the gossiping, angelic and demonic masses) because, in an infuriatingly on point God move, they were both partially right, weren’t they? Yes, of course, angels were always capable of love, but God was rather busy wasn’t She? She’s a deity just like any other━lots to do. Being in charge while also doing Her best to refrain from micromanaging, which She’d been told employees didn’t actually like, so can you really blame her for being a bit aloof sometimes? An honest mistake, really. Nothing quite so sinister as the demons might like to believe, nor so benevolent as the angels would like to think. And besides, She’d given them humanity, and She did love a good game of risk.
#good omens#good omens fic#ineffable husbands#@hencethewriter#y'all it has been#about 5 months#working on this garbage#also i wish tumblr#would fix it's fucking formatting#but we know that'll never happen so
12 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
joe860611
john
thatsaladgal
-=- That Salad Gal -=-
kwakgaeul
𝙖 𝙣𝙤(t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶) 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜.
kichikichiko
Frankie!
